They continued to stare. I stared back, as imperiously as I could manage, focusing on my breathing, projecting outward confidence. I couldn’t help noting that all of these people had swords, except the captive.

“Well?” I prompted, raising an eyebrow. I could’ve just opened by Immolating the leader—Rocco, I think Kasser’d said his name was—and he would’ve deserved it just for what I’d seen him do, let alone the rest of his life of banditry. But this was a performance. There were certain rhythms to it; I had to build tension, strike the right notes at the right moments. That was the difference between music and noise.

“What in the f—” Rocco blinked twice, then took one hand off the woman he was pinning down to draw his sword. “This freak better’ve killed those two idiots, or I’m gonna do it slower. Sakin, hold her.”

“Sakin,” I interjected as Rocco released her and one of his lackeys sidled forward to obey, “untie her, and then keep your greasy fingers to yourself.”

“Okay, you little shit, that does it.” Rocco let go of her entirely, ignoring the ensuing scuffle as she got a head start delivering mule kicks to Sakin without waiting to learn what he decided to do, and made it two long strides toward me.

Even knowing the horror I was about to unleash, this time I felt pure satisfaction in forming the spell in my mind and then pushing it silently into reality.

Immolate.

Rocco combusted like a firework. The next moment was all howling chaos as he dropped his sword, falling to his knees as his flesh dissolved into flame and charcoal, managing to scream intermittently as hellfire and healing magic fought for the condition of his lungs. The rest of the bandits all yelled in alarm, backing away from their boss, and their prisoner took the opportunity to roll herself away from Sakin across the table, tumbling awkwardly to the floor. She didn’t immediately get up and I couldn’t see her behind the tables from the dais; I really hoped she hadn’t accidentally broken her skull or something in the fall. That would be a bitterly ironic end to her adventure.

“Boss,” Biribo murmured directly in my ear, which would’ve made me jump violently had I not been in stage presence mode and ignoring all outside stimuli, “artifacts. On the table, there.”

I noted them without him needing to point; deposited among the rest of the spoils on one of the tables were a shirt of chain mail and a big two-handed sword, both notably fancier in design than anything the bandits were wearing, and subtly glowing.

“They don’t actually glow,” Biribo explained quietly while I made myself gaze impassively down at the spectacle of Rocco burning. “That’s your Blessing of Might, it’ll let you pick ‘em out from other objects that way. That armor is impervious to penetration and resistant to blunt force, and will draw incoming attacks toward itself and away from unarmored body parts. The sword gives the wielder an instinctive mastery of greatsword fighting.”

I cut my eyes to the side and nodded subtly, and he retreated, flicking his tongue out once. So the little shit could take a hint, when he felt like it.

The fires consuming Rocco were diminishing, so I judged it time to approach. One languid step at a time, I descended the stairs from the dais and made my unhurried way down the central aisle between rows of tables. The remaining bandits were already backed away from their boss; as I drew closer, three of them pressed themselves further back until they were against the walls. Sakin just stood there glancing back and forth between me and Rocco with an idly curious expression that gave no indication at all he was watching a man burning alive.

I came to a stop about three meters distant from Rocco as the fire at last faded, leaving him whole, gasping for breath, and down on his hands and knees. He raised his head, revealing a haunted expression, and the first thing he saw was me looming over him.

Looking smug. And I only slightly had to fake it. This was an ugly situation and I did not enjoy the spectacle of a human being in the extremity of pain; I especially didn’t like being the cause of it. But at the same time, there was a certain satisfaction in seeing brutal karma befall a piece of shit like this. And, I had to admit, further satisfaction in the sight of a man who’d moments ago offered me violence on his knees before me.

“So,” I said lightly into the labored silence which followed. “Who’s in charge here?”

“You…son of a…” Rocco pushed himself unsteadily upright, having to grip a nearby table for leverage. His sword had fallen out of easy reach, but he found the spirit to glare at me. “I’m the boss of this gang.”

“Oh? Immolate.”

Down he went, leaving behind a trail of sparks and an ear-splitting howl of anguish. My sense of satisfaction burned away with it; I could feel some triumph over subduing an enemy, but actually watching the suffering play out was hard to endure.

Off to my left, the bound woman’s head appeared above the height of the tables; she had rolled herself out of range of Sakin and the others—and me—and was now watching this situation with a wary expression. Despite the blood still running down her face, she looked alert. Good, probably no head trauma, then.

While waiting for Rocco’s current doom to subside, I studied the bandits. All of them, including their captive, as well as Kasser and Harold, had medium brown skin and curly black hair. They were clearly all of one ethnicity, though it was one I couldn’t quite place in Earth terms—which made sense, if this population had been separated for as long as Virya had implied. The coloration might have been North African, but they tended to have prominent cheekbones and aquiline noses like some European populations. Plus some exotic features that had probably emerged from mutations after their ancestors were brought here: all of them possessed oddly shaped eyebrows, not the smooth arch I was accustomed to but sharply bending down in acute angles above the outer corner of the eye. Also their eyes were light in color, pale but vivid shades of green and blue, which was striking; lighter eye pigmentation is tied to lighter pigmentation in general, which is why you don’t usually see that in people with skin and hair like theirs. The captive woman’s eyes were a pale gold unlike anything I’d seen on a human. So not just lighter pigmentation, but a different kind?

I suspended my musings because Rocco was once more passing out of the worst of it. I fixed my stare on him, diligently keeping my expression neutral despite the horrible spectacle. That felt right, in a weird way; if I was going to do something like this to a person, it seemed like the least I owed them was not to turn away from it.

Then he was again gasping and slumped to the floor, but unharmed. His clothes were singed and smoking in several places, but not on fire. Maybe they used less combustible material than the cloth I was familiar with?

“Let’s try this again,” I said, projecting calm. “Who is in charge here?”

Rocco looked up at me, opened his mouth, then shut it. I could practically see his primitive brain struggling to figure out the correct answer.

Sakin loudly cleared his throat. I fixed my stare on him and he made an odd gesture: placing his open right hand atop his left, palms down at chest level, and then lowering them to the level of his waist. “Why, you are, Lord Seiji.”

It occurred to me belatedly that I had yet to ascertain whether the given name or family name went first in this country. Oh, well, Lord Seiji suited me fine either way. Better that than my parents’ name.

“Finally, we are making progress,” I said, and he gave me a pleased smile. Yeah, something was definitely wrong with this guy; he’d shown no emotional response at all to anything he’d just seen. Well, that could be dealt with later, so long as he behaved for now. “Ah, ah! Stay down, Rocco. It suits you.”

The (former) leader of the bandits had been laboriously getting to his feet, but froze at my command. I could see the conflict written all over his face as rage warred with fear. For a moment, I was afraid I’d have to Immolate him again, but fear won out. Baring his teeth and visibly seething, Rocco sank back down to his knees and lowered his head. I suspected just so I couldn’t see his expression, but for now, that would do.

Silence fell. I let it hang for a moment, a grand pause to build tension under their apprehensive stares.

“Biribo,” I said finally, strolling at the same unhurried pace toward the table on which the spoils were piled, “Virya told me this Good versus Evil business is a game the goddesses play. Tell me…how gamelike is it? Mechanically speaking, that is. Are there levels? Skill points?”

“I, uh, don’t really know what you mean by levels and skill points, boss,” my familiar replied uncertainly. “They’re goddesses. Life an’ death is only a game to the likes of them. For everybody else down here, it’s just…life.”

Good. That would’ve been too stupid.

“I see,” I said aloud, picking up the sword. It wasn’t as heavy as I would have expected, despite being nearly as long as I was tall. And also not made of metal. The blade was a deep blue in color, single-edged and straight for most of its length, with the last third or so tapering as it curved to one side. An intricate tracery of what looked like silver was inlaid into the lowest part of the blade, stemming from the crosshilt, which was also apparently silver and wrought in an elaborate shape that made it look like it was woven together from strands of metal. It looked way too delicate for an implement of violence, but there wasn’t so much as a nick or dent on it anywhere.

Furthermore, upon picking it up, I felt something resonate. It was an almost indefinable sensation, but a familiar one after I’d spent time practicing my Blessing of Magic. This was the Blessing of Might, then, the artifact’s inherent power connecting with mine. Completely unintentionally, I found myself adjusting my posture and stance as I suddenly became a master swordsman.

“In a video game,” I mused aloud, turning and pacing slowly back the other way, “bandits would be procedurally generated to give the player something to kill. In an anime, the drawing and voice acting would show them being over-the-top evil, all sinister grins and wicked chuckling at their lascivious designs on the heroine. Speaking of which, Sakin, I believe I gave you an order.”

“Ah.” Sakin did that gesture again. Was that something cultural or was he just crazy? Well, they weren’t mutually exclusive. “My humble apologies, Lord Seiji, I was distracted by all the drama.”

He approached the bound woman again, and she naturally backed up, snarling at him.

“It’s all right,” I said to her directly, pitching my voice lower. The look she leveled at me wasn’t a bit more trusting than that which she directed at Sakin, so I elaborated. “He’s just going to untie you. And if he does anything else to you, he dies. Everyone clear on this?”

“Clear as the sky, my lord,” Sakin assured me, still calm and cheerful at having his life threatened by a man who could set people on fire with his mind. Either a really good actor or a psychopath, by my guess. Probably the latter, since he’d ended up in a bandit gang.

The woman didn’t look any less suspicious, but this time she held still while the creepy bandit stepped around behind her and worked at her bindings. To his credit, he appeared to be obeying me, touching the ropes and nothing else.

“In real life, however,” I continued, “banditry is the hallmark of a failing state. Not just because it shows that the local authorities don’t have the military strength to put down bandit gangs, but because of simple human nature. Humans are social animals, and the vast majority of people will follow most of the rules, most of the time, if they can. We all want to have connections to others, to feel that we belong, that we are part of something greater than ourselves. It is one of the most fundamental human drives. So when whole groups of people are turning their backs on civilization, living wild and preying upon others… Well, it only happens when those people have been denied the opportunity to participate fairly in society.”

I stopped in the central aisle, studying them all again. The captive was untied and had immediately put another table between herself and Sakin, but after that was just standing, watching.

“Most of you are here, in the damn howling wilderness, because this is the best you can do. Isn’t that right? I’m pretty sure I know what that guy’s deal is,” I said in a dry tone, looking pointedly at Sakin, who grinned as if I was paying him a compliment. “And…what’re you, a leper?” One of the other bandits had bandages wrapped heavily around his head and hands, leaving openings only for him to see and breathe through. What little skin I could see looked gray and weirdly cracked. He ducked his head and mumbled something in response, shrinking back away from the others. “I’m sure you each have your own fascinating stories,” I said, glancing at the big woman, Goose. The smallest of the bandits was still half-hiding behind her, peeking warily at me; on closer inspection I realized that was also a woman. Or a girl, she looked hardly out of her teens. “The details don’t matter much, to be frank. Just know that in a well-run country, with adequate social services and law enforcement, you would be back in your homes and towns, going about productive work, being part of the whole.”

I paused again, for effect.

“That is…most of you. You, though.”

It was astonishingly easy to manipulate the unwieldy-looking greatsword, thanks to its innate magic and my Blessing. I neatly slipped the tip under Rocco’s chin and with the smallest nudge, forced him to raise his head and look at me.

“Oh, you’re loving this life, aren’t you?” I drawled. “Little bandit king in his broken-down wreck of a castle. There are always a few. The people who are the reason the rest of us need police and armies. Malcontents who just don’t give a shit about anyone but themselves, who jump on the opportunity to steal and kill and rape and generally push other people around. I bet you think you’re pretty hot stuff, huh?”

He glared pure hatred at me, tendons standing out on his neck as he clenched his jaw, but he said nothing.

“Y’know the truth, though?” I added, leaning toward him and affecting a conspiratorial tone. “The truth, Rocco, is that being an asshole who can’t function in civilized company doesn’t make you a big bad lone wolf. The truth is that you’re just missing the vital pieces of your brain that would enable you to get along the way a human is meant to. The truth is that you are not special. You’re just weak.”

That was more than his manly pride could bear. He broke with a roar, shoving the blade side as he surged back upright and lunging at me with bare fists.

I’d been expecting something of the kind, of course, but even so it was way easier to evade him than it should have been, thanks to the sword’s magic. I neatly sidestepped, my body flowing by instinct through martial forms I had never actually practiced and letting the ungainly brute stumble past me. I could easily have killed him in several ways at that moment, and nearly did on pure reflex thanks to the sword’s borrowed expertise, but aside from bringing the weapon up to a ready position, I refrained from striking back.

With that, anyway.

“Immolate.”

Rocco faceplanted as he burst into flame, curling up into a piteous fetal position and howling in agony. I stepped back, sweeping another considering look across the thoroughly cowed bandits, my eyes coming to rest on the last member of our little party.

She tensed as I stepped toward her, but I kept the sword lowered at my side. The woman was rubbing her wrists, where red marks showed the bandits had been none too gentle when binding her. Aside from that she had bloodied knuckles, scrapes all over her hands, a black eye and blood still steadily trickling down her face from where Rocco had bashed her head into the table. And that was just what I could see outside her clothes.

“Heal.”

Pink light burst around her, causing her to jump in startlement and then… It probably said something about the woman’s character that her reaction to confusion was to step toward me with a fist raised rather than flee, but she immediately stopped, taking stock of her new situation.

“What did you do?”

“Really?” I raised an eyebrow. “If you can’t tell from the state of yourself, I’d think the name of the spell says it all.”

She looked down at her hands, flexing her now un-damaged fingers, then back up at me. Her expression had been downgraded from open distrust to wariness. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome,” I said in my most magnanimous tone. “As I said before, I am Omura Seiji.”

Slowly, she nodded.

“And…” I prompted. “That would make you…?”

Finally the suspicious look faltered, letting a hint of self-consciousness peek through. “Oh. I am Delavada Aster.”

“Hajimemashite.”

“Uh…what?”

“Never mind. And what shall I call you, Delavada Aster? I ask because different cultures arrange names differently, and I’ve only just arrived here. I’m afraid I don’t know the rules yet.”

“Oh. Delavada is my family name. You can call me Aster.” She hesitated. “My…lord?”

“Aster it is, then.” I looked over at Rocco, who had managed to pull himself together again with the flames once more fading. His breathing was even more labored than before, but he was already shoving himself back upright.

That was the way of it, in all the cheesy stories, right? The hero saves the fair maiden from the cliché ravishing of a cliché bandit, and in gratitude she joins his party for adventure, romance, and…

But I wasn’t the hero of this story, and frankly this woman didn’t strike me as the damsel in distress type; so far she’d done a lot of kicking and snarling and hadn’t screamed or cried once. And in a flash of inspiration, I suddenly had a better idea.

There was still blood on her face, but with the actual wounds gone, I noticed that Aster was, in fact, quite pretty. Now, I enjoy a pretty lady as much as the next guy, but I generally wouldn’t focus on such details at a time like this, except that it enabled me to test out the fruits of my previous labor. Focusing on her golden eyes, I brought forth the recently-created spell to the forefront of my mind, and gave it that last mental push to bring it out into the world.

Enjoin.

Had I not been looking right at her eyes, I might have missed it; I nearly did anyway. The golden corona of light that briefly swirled in each of her irises was almost the same as their base color. Then she blinked and took a step back, scowling.

“What was that? What did you just do?”

Instead of answering, I smiled and stepped closer, shifting my grip on the greatsword to offer it to her, hilt-first.

Aster’s gaze dropped to the weapon, she frowned, and then looked back up at me. “It’s…glowing.”

“Not exactly. You can just see the magic in it now.”

Her eyes widened in comprehension and she inhaled sharply. That was all, for a moment, until I extended the handle of the sword toward her again. After another pause, Aster finally reached out and wrapped her fingers around it.

I almost stumbled when it left my grasp; there was a moment in which I felt hopelessly clumsy and off-balance, with the loss of the sword’s artificially granted athleticism. It passed quickly, though, and then Aster straightened her own spine, blinking, and unconsciously shifted her feet exactly the way I had done upon picking it up.

Having just handed this stranger a deadly weapon, I turned my back on her, because I was fairly confident she wasn’t motivated to use it on me, and because an expression of trust can be a power move. People are more kindly disposed toward someone who shows them generosity, a principle of human nature which has been leveraged by salesmen, cult recruiters and pickup artists since time immemorial. No reason it shouldn’t work for a Dark Lord.

"Now, as a newcomer here,” I lectured, ambling back toward the central aisle and taking cold satisfaction in the way Rocco almost fell over himself backing away from me now, “I’m aware that some of the…nuances are going over my head. The broad strokes I can see, but on reflection, perhaps I’m not the best person to pass judgment on you lot. I believe that right belongs to the victims of your crimes. Those still alive, anyway. So!” I turned around and leaned against the edge of a table, gesturing grandly. “Aster, you know what they did. I’ll leave their fates in your hands.”

Freshly healed, empowered with the Blessing and with a lethal artifact in her hands, the woman who moments ago had been a beaten captive turned a wide-eyed stare on the bandits, most of whom immediately pressed themselves against the walls, having already backed up as far as they physically could in the room. I noted that Goose was deliberately shielding the young girl with her body. The guy in the bandages had his shoulders hunched, wringing his hands nervously. Sakin continued to look intrigued by it all.

Then Aster’s gaze fell on Rocco, and her expression changed. So did his; I could actually see him realizing just how fucked he was.

She took a step toward him; he tried to retreat, ran into a table, and half-stumbled, almost losing his feet.

“Uh, boss,” Biribo hissed in my ear, distracting me from the show. “You just gave all the powers of the Dark Lord to some chick you literally just picked up off the floor. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Of course I didn’t fucking know what I was doing, was that a real question? “You seem able to pick up on invisible magic crap,” I murmured back. “What can you tell me? How well did it work on her?”

He flicked his tongue out in annoyance, which I only noticed because it extended into my range of view where I was still watching Aster inexorably back Rocco against a wall. “It…looks like she’s got the use of your Blessings. It’s weird, doesn’t look like a normally Blessed person. The Blessing of Wisdom won’t function for her since she hasn’t been issued a familiar, and she doesn’t have your gift of spell combination. Or any of the spells you know, I don’t think.”

“Mm. So she can also use spells and artifacts, now, but will have to get her own.”

He didn’t answer, falling silent as Aster pressed Rocco fully against the wall, the tip of the sword resting against his chest.

“Well?” she growled. “Anything to say for yourself, asshole?”

He glared at her, chest rising and falling rapidly with labored breathing. For a moment, I thought he was actually going to try to argue on his own behalf, but then his face contorted into a feral sneer.

“Fuck you, little bitch!”

“That was not the correct answer,” I murmured.

Rocco knocked the blade aside with one meaty forearm and tried to lunge at Aster, but he was no match for the artifact’s power. In a single fluid motion so fast it was almost invisible to the naked eye, she sidestepped, tripped him, and brought down the huge blade in a flashing arc.

The bandit leader hit the floor with two separate thumps, and then a couple smaller ones as his head bounced away. Blood spread across the floor with astonishing speed, as his still-pumping heart sprayed it from the stump of his neck.

I spent the next few moments in concentration and self-control. I could not afford to let my performance slip; these thugs needed to see me as calm and in charge or they’d turn on me like the wild dogs they practically were. Keeping my face composed, I fought down the nausea, suppressed the sudden shock of it. I mean, I had set this up myself with at least a strong suspicion this was how it was going to end, but it’s another thing to see violence like that right in front of you. God, the smell. I’d never realized blood had a smell. I guess you only notice when there’s a lot of it present, fresh and piping hot.

Aster was looking at me, I realized, and it was hard to interpret her expression. I just nodded at her once, rearranging my features to hopefully convey approval. I was getting myself back under control, but didn’t quite trust my voice yet.

She turned, bloody sword at the ready, to study the rest of the bandits again. Her stare settled on Sakin.

“You.” Aster pointed the blade at him; Rocco’s blood dripped from its edge across a table. “You would’ve climbed onto me as soon as he was done.”

“I surely would have,” Sakin agreed without hesitation. “Because Rocco expected it. Believe me, you never wanted to fall short of his expectations. The other two lads who got left behind on guard duty, they were never willing to have a go at captives and Rocco kicked them both around like pump balls because of it. Thankfully, we never have to worry about that again. Speaking of which, Lord Seiji, did you kill Kasser and Harold? Not to second-guess you or anything, my lord, but they always seemed like decent sorts, to me.”

“Those decent sorts murdered a peddler just before I got here,” I remarked, pleased to find my voice perfectly even.

Sakin shrugged fatalistically. “Well, again. That’s life out here in the wilderness. If they hadn’t, Rocco would’ve made one of them bloody the other, and make ‘em pick which did which. That’s what he did last time. Oh, but Miss Aster, don’t worry about Donon over there. He was off the hook when it came to women, thanks to his, y’know, condition.”

Bandage Guy hunched his shoulders and pressed himself harder against the wall.

Aster lowered the sword, turning to glare at Goose. “And you. You’re a woman, but you would’ve stood aside and let him do that? How many times have you stood back and watched?”

“Survival isn’t easy, or guaranteed,” Goose said in a tight voice, extending one brawny arm to press the girl behind her back into the wall. “Those of us who have something to protect have to…to do what we have to.”

Aster stared at her in silence, then shifted her gaze to the younger girl. Then, with a sigh, she bent and grabbed one of the fluffy dried plants strewing the floor and began wiping blood off the sword with it.

“Really?” I prompted. “That explanation is good enough for you?”

“It’s like you said, Lord Seiji,” she replied, raising her eyes to meet mine with not sign of fear. “And like she said. Life is hard all over. We all have had to do things we’d rather not. Most of us didn’t choose to be in this situation, but…we make do.”

“Well spoken.” I straightened up, stepping out into the aisle. “Very well, then. Are there any further complaints concerning the new chain of command around here?”

All of them shook their heads, except Sakin, who made that hand gesture again.

“Good. Aster, I’m sorry about the awful day you must be having. You’re of course welcome to enjoy my hospitality until you feel recovered enough to return home.”

“I don’t…” Aster’s eyes fell upon the beheaded body of Rocco. “They killed my party. I don’t have anywhere to go.”

Party? Interesting. That bore further investigation. “I am sorry for your loss. That being the case, please make yourself at home. The rest of my new employees will treat you with the utmost respect; you have my blessing to stab them if they do not. Now then! One of you kindly head up to the tower and let Harold and Kasser in; they’re locked out on the roof. Do appraise them of the change in leadership. The rest of you, clean this up.” I gestured casually at Rocco’s cooling corpse. “Meanwhile, Aster, let’s have a discussion about this situation we’re both in.”