The arrow pierces through Matthew's head, and for a split second, everything holds still. Then, the shaft explodes in a violent bloom of fire, splintering apart as if trying to rip the air itself apart.
A fiery shockwave follows, a brief burst of heat washing over me as the corpse topples forward, the impact sending up a small cloud of dust.
His skull is half-gone, the edges of the wound cauterized black, wisps of smoke curling from the charred flesh. Blood doesn't even have a chance to flow—the heat seals the vessels instantly, leaving just a hollow, smoking cavity where thoughts used to be.
Tough luck, bro.
Should've had more Constitution.
I barely spare him another glance, instead turning my gaze to where the arrow came from. The murderer is already limping away, her movements sharp and desperate. She glances back at me, her eyes feral—wild, yet focused, as if gauging whether I'd pursue.
The grass beneath her feet catches fire with each step, the flames licking hungrily at the earth before quickly fading.
I simply observe her in turn, noting the details. A large, cauterized hole tears through her abdomen, raw and angry, the flesh around it blackened. There's also a stab wound on her shoulder, deep enough that I can see it clearly even from this distance, the edges torn as if the blade had been yanked out roughly.
Blood soaks the fabric around it, but not enough to suggest a severed artery. She's wounded badly, but I don't think she's on death's door just yet.
The ability to draw her bow so accurately, combined with enough firepower to kill Matthew in one hit, doesn't speak of complete exhaustion, even if her wounds do seem quite deadly.
Interesting. I wonder if she killed the other two.
I glance around the clearing but see no sign of them. No bodies, no movement. That's impressive. If she took them both down, then she did so quickly enough that they didn't even make a sound.
I shall search for their corpses later. That should answer my questions.
She disappears into the distance, swallowed by the dense foliage of the forest, and I let my gaze fall back to Matthew's smoldering remains.
The body twitches slightly, nerves firing off their last desperate impulses before finally going still.
...This was, mere moments ago, a person with hopes and fears.
I could have saved Matthew, certainly. A simple step, a raised hand, and the arrow would have missed. Or I could have warned him, given him the split second he needed to dodge.
I could have tried to reason with the girl before she attacked, convince her that vengeance wouldn't bring peace.
But I didn't.
Because ultimately, their conflict wasn't mine. Their deaths—or survival—contribute to my goals only insofar as they provide resources or obstacles. Matthew's soul serves me better than Matthew himself would have, at least for now. The girl's continued existence may prove useful, or it may not. Time will tell.
I take a moment to examine my thoughts.
And I find myself… uncaring.
It's not ignorance.
It's not obliviousness.
I know well the benefits of cooperation and morality—how they allowed humanity to rise above and beyond, how they let us thrive against all odds.
Even here, in this so-called "Tutorial," the principle should hold true.
Even if the rules seem to favor the strong, even if everything is tilting toward a world where one man might one day be able to wipe out armies, the foundation of civilization might still have value.
And yet, I do not quite subscribe to the notions of good and evil.
Was the girl evil for killing a defenseless teen?
Was Matthew evil for being part of an attempted murder?
Was Karl—the spear guy, whatever his name was—the true villain for fueling this entire conflict?
Or am I the evil one for not interfering, for not stopping this pointless bloodshed when I likely could have?
Different people would give different answers. Some would say yes, others no, all drawing from their own beliefs and perspectives. And every single one of them would be correct in some shape or form.
And I would agree with all of them.
Because there is wisdom to be gained from everything.
But I also do not care.
Because I am me, myself, and I. No one else.
And the final decision belongs to me and me alone.
No made-up human construct shall restrain me. No belief shall bind me save for my own. This is the path I have chosen.
Because to me, there is no good nor evil—merely desires.
And the echoes they leave behind as they clash against one another.
A single thought, and the soul mist seeping from Matthew's corpse begins to condense. It feels… heavy. Much heavier than any other soul I've absorbed thus far. So much more potent.
I recall the fat man who died on the first day. His soul mist had been beyond my ability to budge back then, and now I understand why. It's a matter of strength. Of ability.
More testing is needed. But this time, I can make it work.
This time, I will have a human soul to study.
The clearing grows silent.
I close my eyes for a moment, letting the wind wash over me, and replay the events once more in my mind.
In the end, I am quite satisfied with how things turned out.
Sure, I could have slaughtered the other humans. It would have been possible. I'd certainly have more material to work with.
But more doesn't always mean better. Having a hundred bananas sounds great in theory until you realize you can only eat ten or twenty before the rest spoil. Souls aren't bananas, obviously, but I imagine at least one or two would have dissipated before I could store them properly.
And that was before I realized how potent human souls are.
Another option would have been to restrain all of them, force a ceasefire, and coerce them into working together with me. That might have worked. But it also seemed… unfeasible.
They were already locked in a cycle of violence. Mortal enemies.
Forcing them to cooperate would have required more effort than it was worth.
I go over everything one last time, then push the thoughts away.
What's done is done.
Can't change the past.
Not without chronomancy, at least.
I take a deep breath and glance around the clearing. The blood, the burnt grass, the smoldering corpse.
All silent.
The wind picks up again, rustling the leaves.
There is training to be done, improvements to be made...
And I am wasting time.