“Those were by far the worst bandits I've ever seen,” grandfather commented after the minute or so Lock needed to calm himself.

Lock simply nodded, still unsure if he trusted himself not to hurl if he opened his mouth. He'd never killed someone from so close before. Thank god he'd experienced it now, against mostly harmless enemies, with grandfather there to protect him. Suffice to say he was much more appreciative of the situation now. Also angry that guns didn't exist. That was how he'd committed all his past murders. It had obviously spoiled him. Getting so emotional for killing someone up close for the first time, pathetic.

“Thanks for... organizing this. Better to be done with the first time in a safe environment than when my life is actually in danger,” he said, unable to bring a smile to his face, but capable of meeting grandfather's blue eyes with his... and trying to convey his gratitude with his gaze.

“I'm glad you forgive me, but is it over yet? I saw you let one live.”

Right, Calm was still alive. He pushed away the repetitive phantom feeling of his hand digging a dagger into soft flesh by clenching it harshly and slamming it into a nearby tree. Then he went to drag Calm's unconscious body into the clearing.

“Is there anything we need this guy for?” he asked dully.

“Not really. You can let him live though, he didn't see your face,” was grandfather's reply.

Lock shook his head. “He saw yours. You won't be here much longer, but I don't want to leave anything to chance. It only takes one arrow for it all to end prematurely after all.”

He hesitated for a bit, before sitting on the back of the still dead to the world Calm and divesting himself of his greaves. This would require a finer touch. His left hand gripped his victim under the chin, while his right found purchase on his left temple. His weight anchored the torso to the ground as he pulled the head away from from its body and twisted harshly. It was more of a pop than a crack, a pop that resounded through the neck straight into his hands.

He looked up to meet the curious eyes of his grandfather. “A bloodless death,” he explained.

Grandfather nodded, then crouched and started divesting Angry of his clothes, making Lock grimace. Right, the looting. Although he doubted that the corpses had anything useful on them, he still searched Calm's body thoroughly, finding a few coins in a place he'd rather not mention. After a short wash they found their way into his pack. Money was money. He picked up the bow and inspected it before shaking his head and throwing it into the clearing.

“Nothing but firewood,” he muttered, walking over to his grandfather, who'd just finished divesting Potato of her valuables. “So what do we do with the bodies?” he asked.

“You're much less squeamish about this than I expected,” was his reply.

“I can freely admit I didn't particularly savour it, but killing them was the most beneficial route I was capable of taking in this situation.”

“Fair enough. I'm glad to see you act rationally about it. The potential danger they could pose to your life was not worth theirs.”

Lock smiled grimly at that. “Nothing is.” This was a fact he'd known for a very long time, but that had suddenly been reaffirmed. Killing, in this world, was unavoidable. Something he'd perhaps been a bit blind too due to his circumstances. He would keep a more open mind in the future.

“Correct.”

-/-

They'd sat down after piling the bodies somewhere out of sight. Lock wasn't completely ready to take on the dungeon yet. He was still feeling a bit wonky mentally. He wanted to formulate a plan for the cyclops first and most importantly, he'd gained two levels in Assassin from the small altercation that had taken place.

He'd only really noticed after his adrenaline had died down. The level up notification was fairly unobtrusive, more an itch in the back of his head than a loud ping like he'd expected the first time he'd gained a level in his Alchemy class.

“Two levels. Odd, I was expecting one from how incompetent these guys were,” grandfather commented.

Lock couldn't help but agree. The thieves really had been pathetic. Two levels meant two attribute points he could distribute; he naturally put them into Endurance and immediately felt the difference. Adding two to twenty-three was very much like emptying a glass of water into a puddle, but that was hardly to be disparaged. The glass of water had been gained in one minute of work, after all.

“How does it feel?”

“Only a slight difference. Still feels great though.”

“Endurance is the hardest attribute to really feel. It consists of too many others that are only affected minimally. Regeneration, vitality, stamina...”

“Yeah, but it's definitely the one with the most refreshing feeling. I can feel my lifespan lengthening,” Lock said, and they descended into silence for a bit.

“How do you think we should approach the dungeon?” grandfather finally asked.

“I made all those corpses. You think we could poison them and wait for the cyclops to simply choke to death?” It was the least dangerous plan Lock had been able to come up with, but it relied on their enemies being stupid, which was never a good assumption to make.

“Hmm, on one hand, cyclops aren't that stupid. On the other hand, I have to be wondering what the creatures have been eating for the last week or so. It can't be easy to hunt while blind, and while mana does offer nourishment, it's not a great replacement for feeling satiated.” So the creatures were probably quite hungry by now, and therefore more susceptible to such a tactic.

Not needing to eat did not eliminate the feeling of hunger, a lesson he'd learned from the phase where he'd just sipped a nutrient potion every meal.

“You think we could control the corpses, make it appear as if they’re some civilians simply stumbling into the dungeon by accident, and giving the cyclops the feeling of having successfully hunted down a target?” he asked. Grandfather chortled.

“I really love your pragmatism. Give me a moment. I think I have something like that with me.” He walked over to his pack and started searching through it. He eventually emerged victorious from his fierce battle with the baggage and triumphantly held up two vials, filled with a dark gaseous substance.

Lock had to rummage from his memory for what the substance was for a bit, but when he did he couldn't help but laugh. “You're not a Necromancer gramps, why are you carrying around vengeful soul wisps?”

“Didn't need the money, and they can be used as a distraction against spiritual existences if you ever find yourself in a bind against any.” His expression turned smug. “And another little known fact is that they like to possess corpses if coaxed into it, even if they do so incompetently.”

“Alright, and how exactly do you coax them into it?” Lock asked, while simultaneously asking himself why he hadn't known about this fact.

Grandfather coughed into his hand and mumbled something. At Lock's expectant look he repeated himself, louder this time. “You have cut open a corpse, stick the open vial into it, and then sew it shut so it doesn't have any other way of escaping.”

That was... macabre... there was one question plaguing his mind, though. “And how exactly did you find that out?” he asked accusingly.

Grandfather sputtered. “It's not what you think, that's for sure! I used to party up with a Necromancer who consumed the things as a sort of cheap power-up. He died one day, and scared the literal shit out of us when he rose up afterwards and tried to bite me in the butt,” he said indignantly.

“You tried to replicate the process later or what?” Lock asked. Grandfather nodded. Lock tilted his head dubiously, noticing a pattern he hadn't paid attention to before. “Why do all your adventuring stories involve butt stuff?”

“Screw off,” grandfather mumbled. “You get shit out of a giant one time after having killed him from within and you never hear the end of it.” He trailed off, looking into the distance. Probably thinking of all the butt stuff he'd experienced.

Lock broke the silence with a question he'd never thought he'd ask. “So, can you show me how to insert a glass vial into a corpse's intestinal track now?”