Demon was exhilarated from the effort of defending Leornal. Even though he had relied on Mowrytal’s power, the fight had taken a great deal from him, and he felt that his skills, both in terms of the Trials, and his own personal way of measuring himself, had been stretched.

He enjoyed how much easier it had been to fight the beasts the second time, especially with the mana-blade. It reminded him of learning to fight the cats, the way that instinctive pieces of himself had risen up and drove him into urgency. Survival was a powerful catalyst for growth, but there was more to his excitement than that. He enjoyed growing stronger for its own sake.

And he enjoyed that, as the first human to ever wield mana, as well as soul arts, there were no expectations of the limits of his power. For all he knew, he could become stronger than any of the Darkest Night. Surely, he could grow strong enough that Geralt would have to respect him. Perhaps then he could find out more about the Maledite.

The thought of Geralt made Mason pause to consider something he had said: the Maledite weren’t on the same plane as this. That was probably a good thing. It had taken nearly a dozen people and a powerful weapon to take down Geralt. Something in Mason though almost longed to be surrounded by challenging opponents though. How much would he improve under their threat?

But things as they were seemed fine; he would build up his strength here, and find a way to their plane once he was certain he could hold his own. He would prove himself through strength. His eyes tracked down to the bodies around him. Maybe it was the Demon growing in him, but this sense of conquest was fun. Mason didn’t feel guilty for killing his enemies or pity them their deaths.

They attacked him and didn’t have the means to survive. That was their problem.

A thought raced across his mind then- of the rest of the humans that would be coming to this world. He remembered, in the same vague sense that one remembers a dream, that he had a girlfriend before the Trials. It was strange that he hadn’t thought of her once since he had first appeared in the assessment. Perhaps he was just too busy surviving and fighting.

But if the humans were coming, so might she. Alice. Would she grow strong, too? If not, could he protect her? The thought of her slipped from his mind.

Geralt would have enslaved the humans as surely as he tried to enslave the Biord, and would have enslaved the Darkest Night given the chance. And if Geralt was merely one of many, and if the rest of his people were as strong as him, or stronger… now that was a good reason for Mason to get strong. To protect his people.

That’s right- he didn’t just want to become powerful to prove something. He had people to protect, and good to do. Why then, did it seem like he had forgotten that? Probably the same reason he had forgotten Alice, and who he once was.

This world did something to a person. The mysterious forces, the threat of death, the powerful energies of mana and stamina and the soul.

Mason looked at Leornal, still screwed up in concentration, and remembered that if nothing else, he had to protect this friend, right now. That was simple enough to keep a hold of.

Still musing on power, he looked at the notifications from his latest fight. He had gained another two points in Blade Specialization- which he considered well-earned. On top of that, Mana Manipulation and Focus had grown by a point, and there were two other large changes to his skills. Mana Blade had become Mana-Blade, and he had unlocked a skill called Footwork.

Mana-Blade: Imbuing your weapon with magical energies, your raw force has increased, opening up a pathway to greater attacks. Mana Blade’s level is reset to account for the new ability.

Footwork: Your Focus has enabled you to measure your movements carefully. Every step has a purpose, you have only yet to discover what it is.

Congratulations you’ve unlocked a new challenge: Distinguished Footwork.

Distinguished Footwork: Cater your movements to your own designs and styles. When you’ve truly discovered your own technique, footwork will transform into a more powerful skill.

The message he took from that was comforting in a way; Keep doing what you’re doing. Presumably, the challenge would reward him extra agility Focus Points, which would go a long way to keeping him alive. He needed to continue refining his intelligence and willpower if he wanted to gain any real aptitude in magic, but the more physical stats might be just as important in keeping him from getting mauled or eviscerated…

“Let me show you something, Mason,” Leornal called, beckoning with one hand while the other remained keyed to the console.

Mason stalked over, still weary even though he had been using Recovery for several minutes.

“I managed to power up enough of the city that the beasts won’t know what to attack for mana. That means they won’t be hunting us down immediately, at least, but I fear it will wake a great many of them up that we might have been able to avoid otherwise. The system though is far more complex than I imagined. There is no telling what surprises we’ll run into from now on,” Leornal explained before taking Mason’s hand and placing it against the panel.

“Press your mana into it, delicately. The system will respond.”

Mason did so, and if he weren’t used to violent reactions from almost every new thing he touched, he probably would have jerked his hand away almost immediately after. Information surged through his mind that he could hardly begin to comprehend, but then he felt Leornal guiding him, and suddenly in his mind’s eye he could see a document.

The city is poisoned and dying. The seals which protected us for all of this time have fallen, and there is no hope of them suddenly finding a solution after all of this time. The city guard have been passing around a very powerful soul sealing spell, and several groups have been hosting trainings on how to use.

Can you imagine that? Soul sealing being taught to children?

There hope is that enough of us can preserve ourselves that when the Archmage finds the solution to the poison, he can restore the population.

My dearest Caleoran, the rumors are that your city too shall fall within the year, and I sorely regret that I have no means to come visit you. If I could, the things I would do to your beautiful…

Mason pulled back then, thoughtful. “So they sealed themselves because there was something killing their planet? What do you think it could have been, Leornal?”

“Nevermind that- what’s important is that I was right,” the older man grinned, “And also that there are even more secure parts of the city which should have some pretty powerful stuff stashed away. If they were hoping to combat a planet-killing poison, they would have had to spare no expense.”

“And here I thought your attention was on the dirty talk at the end. That Caleoran would have been a lucky… whatever these people were,” Mason shrugged. “None of this helps us though. Where are we supposed to go?”

Leornal pulled away from the console then and looked out the doorway over the suspended bridge. He leaned back and forth, seemingly checking his orientation based on the more notable buildings, and then finally he pointed.

Something like halfway across the city, one of the thicker buildings rose high above the rest, rounding into a large half-dome which connected with the cave’s ceiling. Though this wasn’t the only building to reach that point, the dome was far larger than most of the other buildings ever became.

Mason shook his head as he realized what was inevitably going to happen next, “So we need to make it all the way up there. How are we supposed to do that exactly?”

“Well I imagined we would walk, but if you develop the ability to fly anytime soon, I’d be willing to try that as well.”

There was a wider building- not the one they were aiming for- that seemed easily navigable only a few suspended walkways away. Intimidatingly, the sound of stomping, roaring, corrupted beasts could be heard nearly everywhere they went, but they had made a decent bit of progress without encountering anything face to face. Since both of them were low on energy, they considered this reprieve a blessing.

But nowhere they had found was fortifiable enough for them to rest, especially as the city seemed to come more and more to life with each passing moment. Magic barriers flickered alongside some of the suspended walkways to provide an extra layer of safety, more machines whirred and buzzed in the distance, and the lighting of the city had grown to the point that Mason could see comfortably without Focus.

The walkway to the larger building was an impressive thing. Twelve people could have walked side-by-side along it, and the end of the walkway branched into three paths, with two of the curving alongside the building and rising to connect with higher level walkways and alternate entrances. The main entrance, though, was still massive, and even though the ornate door was ajar, decayed, and broken, both men recognized it as a symbol of the affluence of the city.

Mason had only ever imagined such a state of decay as this city in his wildest post-apocalyptic fantasies. The structures were all clearly made of thick stone, presumably reinforced with magic and expensive materials, but that had only leant itself to maintaining the forms of the buildings, and almost everything perishable had done just that.

Despite the decay, this building maintained a thread of its former glory. Passing the threshold of that oversized doorway led into a wide open courtyard with a prominent basin in the center. A statue lay in shambles within the basin, but even crumbled, it was obvious this had once been a great fountain, and the statue would have stood some thirty feet tall.

Wide looping stairways crossed behind the statue, leading up to three separate floors that pushed back further than Mason could see from his current viewpoint. Then all along each wall of the building were wide, square openings that led into buildings filled with broken tables and something Mason was shocked to identify as a legion of mannequins.

That’s when it occurred to him, and he looked at the familiar shapes of shelves set into walls, tables and displays organized in easily-navigable grids, and secondary smaller doors set into the back of each of these smaller buildings.

It was a fucking mall.

He swore and Leornal put a hand on his shoulder, “I don’t like this place either, Demon.”

“It’s a fucking mall. Those are stores. Hundreds of them,” Mason shouted in irritation. When the archer gave him a puzzled look, he sighed and explained, “To make it easier for people to buy lots of things at once, different groups all set up permanent stores in a well-decorated area. It’s like a giant market, I guess.”

“I know what a mall is, you idiot. I’m not from some backwater world, I had cities too. That’s not what I was referring to though. Are you blind?” Leornal asked, looking serious enough that Mason had to second-guess his own thoughts.

He gave the area another glance, looking closer at the debris scattered all about, and then he realized that the dusty, cluttered ground wasn’t covered in broken stones. The ceiling and walls were whole and intact, and the center of a courtyard would likely have been mostly empty. But this sea of debris was made of something worse than broken infrastructure.

They stood in a sea of ages old corpses- skeletons wrapped in decayed cloth and buried in a sea of tents and bags every bit as ruined as the bodies which once would have carried them.

He could picture it then- the woman writing that letter about the imminent threat of the powerful poison, hoping it would reach her lover in another city. Then, knowing time was short, knowing that she would rather die surrounded by people than alone in a small apartment, she migrated to one of the most public gathering places she could imagine, where the whole city came in droves, packing the courtyard with bodies hoping and praying for a miracle.

This was a mass grave for a city that had died too quickly to care for its own passing. Suddenly, those grotesque creatures he had faced seemed even more tragic. There must have been hundreds, or thousands of people who had decided to try one last ditch effort to preserve their lives, but ultimately condemned themselves to something much worse than death.

It didn’t change the simple fact though, that if Mason faced another of those beasts, he would have to destroy it. The dead and the dying were nothing compared to him, Leornal, and the others who were very much alive.