Mash stared at the dead body; he couldn’t understand what had just happened. He hadn’t meant to kill the boy, it just well, happened. It was a single attack, with a weapon that shouldn’t even have been able to kill anyone. It was just a stick, better suited to act as a cane than a weapon. It was an accident, an unexpected outcome that no one present could have predicted. Mash though didn’t feel like it was an accident. He had been aiming for his neck, which while unlikely to kill him would probably have caused serious damage. He could have, just as easily, aimed for the boy’s wrist. He hadn’t though. He didn’t know why he hadn’t. He didn’t feel like he was vindictive, he didn’t even feel particularly angry with the boy.

As he was contemplating why he had aimed for such a vital location, he realized that he currently didn’t feel anything. He didn’t feel good or bad. He had killed the boy, but he didn’t care much. Thinking on it now, he didn’t even know who the boy was. He didn’t know his name. In the past, the boy had approached Mash plenty, but Mash had never bothered learning anything about the boy. He had been preoccupied with raising his stats.

He hadn’t spent much time with the other kids, and at some point, didn’t really want to. They weren’t like him, or rather they were like the old him. They reminded Mash of someone he could have been, but no longer wanted to be. He stared at the body before him, realizing suddenly that he didn’t regret his actions. It was such a small thing compared to what he had gained. He would get his job advancement a year earlier and could even be offered a class for defeating someone who was a higher level than him, not to mention the improvement to his stats.

Mash’s thoughts returned to the scene before him, he had been spacing out after realizing that he had leveled. He had gained a decent number of stats as well. It seemed like fights, or maybe kills, were more likely to raise someone’s stats. He watched some of the knights run up to the boy, a few pointedly standing between himself and the boy. He didn’t really understand why, its not like the boy was going to get more dead, but he didn’t really care. This whole thing just felt so pointless, the boy had died before being able to live his life, all because of some stupid arrogance.

Some of the knights had parted to let some people through, one of which was his father. He didn’t know the other two that had followed them, but one of them wore the robes of a healer. The healer couldn’t do anything at this point. The boy was dead, Mash had already gained the experience. He doubted that would have happened if the boy could be revived. Mash just stared at the group as they approached, not entirely sure what was going to happen.

Mash had been growing distant from his parents over the last couple of years. They hadn’t kept acting disappointed, rather they had acted like nothing had changed. He didn’t like how they seemed to never address the topic. Mash felt like there was never a resolution with his parents and found that he didn’t want to spend as much time around them anymore. He didn’t blame them for not knowing how he felt. Mash would never tell them how he felt, he honestly thought that they didn’t deserve to know anymore. At least that’s what he told himself.

______________________________________________________________________________

Fathers P.O.V

The scene before him was chaos. The professionally trained knights and guards had gathered up in a circle, most of them were panicking rather than acting like they should. Some stood stone-faced, clearly still shocked by the sudden events. There, in the center of the gathered crowd, were four boys. He had heard his son was involved but had not realized what the exact situation was. One glance over the state of the boys told him everything.

Mash had gotten into a fight with another boy, going against his specific instructions. Mash had been getting into fights more often as of late, especially with kids far older than himself. He knew that his relationship with his son wasn’t the best, but at least he had expected him to listen to his father. He wanted to go to Mash, and provide him with some comfort, but looking at Mash’s face he noticed that Mash looked normal, like he was completely fine. Mash looked as though nothing had happened. He had seen shock before, being a military leader would do that, but Mash’s face showed no signs of shock. If Mash looked like he cared about anything it was the stick in his hands, which was now missing the usual forked top. He looked at the other boy and found what he had expected. One of the forks of the stick was lodged deep into the boy’s head. He was dead, that much was certain. He heard the man next to him scream.

“Jason!”

The word came out in a surprisingly high-pitched screech. It was a bellow that could be felt through the ground. He had never seen his coworker in so much distress before. General Russel almost always looked like he was ready for a fight. A glare had been fixed on his face for as long as he had known the man, but now he broke into a crying mess as he held his boy’s lifeless body. The healer had already realized it was too late but checked anyways. He didn’t have the power to revive people but could heal the boy if there was even the tiniest trickle of life.

They wouldn’t be that lucky it seemed. As the healer shook his head in defeat, the tension from the group had shifted. He could feel the anger radiating off Russel and decided to shift slightly to cover Mash. Russel didn’t miss the motion and glared daggers at Mash. Russel spoke before anyone could react.

“You were the one who killed Jason.”

It wasn’t a question, a mere statement, or maybe a judgment. Russel might as well have been breathing fire for all the anger laced within his words.

“Jason, huh.”

His son seemed to be ignoring the tension completely instead speaking calmly, but Russel interrupted him before he could get another word out.

______________________________________________________________________________

Mash P.O.V

Mash looked at the scene before him more confused than anything. So that was the general’s son. How was he so weak? Mash had heard that the general’s son was a knight’s apprentice, he should have been far stronger than Mash. He probably even had a combat related skill of some kind, but he was so pathetic. Mash looked at the crying man hold his son for another second before finally looking at his father. His father had been looking back at Mash. When their eyes met, Mash saw the pain in his father’s face. Or was that disgust? The look lasted only a moment.

Then his father turned away moving his sight back to the general on the ground and shifted slightly closer to Mash. The motion reminded Mash of his father’s disappointment, so he instead looked at the group of knights around him. Some looked confused, but by now most were looking at him. They had a multitude of expression. Many looked disgusted and a few seemed to be angry. He even noticed the occasional concerned face among the crowd. Everyone though, saw Mash as the killer. That much was obvious.

As Mash investigated the faces of the knights before him, did he even begin to feel that something had changed. He was not sad or regretful. Instead, he felt wrong and a little disgusted. He could tell that he wasn’t feeling that way about himself, rather because of the situation in front of him. He hadn’t done anything wrong. The fight was fair, and Mash won because he was deserving. The boy had lost because he wasted his potential, despite being given a much better class. Mash felt something there, a better understanding of the wrongness from earlier.

Then he noticed it. It felt like he had been hit over the head, as the realization dawned on him. The boy’s class simply wasn’t better than Mash’s. Mash’s class had been made for catching up. The runner was literally meant to close gaps. Even after Mash had won the fight, he still treated the boy’s class as being above his, but that didn’t make any sense to him now. Why was everyone so adamant about knights and heroes being such superior classes? Sure, they gave a decent number of stats, but any class could gain stats early by working hard. In fact, most people spent their youth doing just that. Mash had heard that was what most people did when they wanted to improve or change their class, although that was typically commoners.

Everything fell into place then. The class never really mattered; it was just a means to gain skills and levels. The name, and even the stats to some extents were mostly irrelevant. Mash remembered scouring his book and seeing how a lot of advanced classes would give highly unique skills. It never tiered one class above another, and almost always mentioned use cases for the skills listed. After spending so long focused on his stats, he had thought that was the most important aspect for classes. Everyone he knew judged classes by the number of stats you gained from the class. Mash just couldn’t figure out why. Sure, stats were good, but Mash was certain some classes would be able to ignore a simple difference in strength or dexterity. So why did people insist that classes be defined like that? Mash kept trying to come up with a reason, but continually seemed to be running around the answer.

“You were the one who killed Jason.”

The words were spoken so loudly that they broke Mash from his train of thoughts. He realized that he was looking at the general, and that the man was speaking to him. He thought about what the man had said.

“Jason, huh.”

Mash only realized he had spoken once he saw the man’s face darken further. He was honestly surprised the general could squeeze more emotion into his face. It took a second, but Mash realized what he had just said. He panicked then, looking around trying to find a way out, when he couldn’t find one, his eyes settled on his father. Mash hoped that his father would do something, but he just wore a helpless expression.

“Detain him.”

Mash could hear the words ring in his head and thought that the general must have used a skill. The knights immediately moved to capture Mash, that finally seemed to shake his father out of his stupor.

“Russel, don’t you think you should ca—”

His father couldn’t even get the words out.

“Calm down! Your boy killed my son without even knowing his name! His! Name!”

The last few words had come out much louder than the rest. He was yelling at this point; Mash had begun to think that he would draw his blade. By now he was firmly within the grasp of the knights and wouldn’t be able to defend himself even if he wanted. Mash was afraid. He felt like he was close to something, but he couldn’t put his finger on what. However, it felt like something he needed to know. He didn’t want to die. Not now.

He felt like his body was reacting even before the sword came his way. He wanted to throw up and it was becoming harder to breathe. He noticed the knights loosen their grips. Mash had apparently been staring at the ground because this gesture had made him lift his head. He wanted to see what had changed. The general didn’t seem as angry as before. His father had seemed to calm him down. Mash tried to look at the knights but realized that his vision was getting blurry. He was crying, when did he start crying? Was he that much of a coward that he couldn’t face the consequences of his own actions? That thought sickened Mash more than anything else, and he threw up.

“Take him to the dungeons. Once I settle down, I will come up with a fair punishment.” The general seemed to have gathered his composure and spoke the words with the authority that Mash would expect from a general. He didn’t give it much of his attention as he tried to regain control of his stomach. His father looked like he wanted to protest but refrained after sharing a look with the general. The knights moved immediately leading Mash to the dungeons.

He went to the training grounds often, but never actually went to the fort itself. He was not allowed to go inside, so he never bothered trying. Now though he was let in through a set of back doors that he had never noticed before. As they entered the building, Mash realized that the fort was made of crystal. He had thought it was made of stone, but once inside you could see how the light passed through some sections of the wall. Mash gasped a little as he was led down a set of stairs. The walls, floors, and ceilings were covered in intricate rune work. Was this whole fort one enormous mana crystal? What enchantments would even require a crystal this large? Mash was flooded with questions, but those quickly died as he realized where the dungeons were.

The dungeons, he seemed to be going to, were entirely separate from the fort itself. It seemed to have been dug into the dirt and had none of the awe that the main fort had. No crystal or engravings along the walls, just simple stone cells. There was no light source. One of the knights had grabbed a candle as they went further into the dungeon. Mash’s room was simple. More a pen for animals than humans, it had a single hole in the corner to use as the bathroom and a slightly elevated mound of dirt with a simple blanket to act as the bed. The knights reassured him that he would only be here for a short time and left. Then Mash was left alone in the cell. As the knights got further away, the darkness swelled till there was nothing left but his thoughts. Well, he did have a lot to think about.