He's alive? Why this guy?!

We didn’t have time to stand around thinking about what had just happened. Smoke was starting to fill the tent as it collapsed around us in flames. The bandits who had been knocked out cleanly in my heatwave earlier would either suffocate or burn to death, but that wasn’t our problem in that moment. We had to get out.

All at once, we booked it for the exit. I covered my mouth and squinted my eyes against the smoke that I had caused. Breathing was becoming more painful by the second. If the fight had lasted any longer, we’d have likely all been killed.

I was the first to get to the exit, and I tumbled my way out, hitting the ground and coughing my guts up. I heard my two companions get out behind me, but was too busy trying to wipe and blink the smoke out of my eyes to look at them. I was also suddenly reminded of the pain in my mouth and hands from casting magic without my staff, which I had managed to push through with adrenaline before.

Doubled over, coughing like a smoker, wracked with pain and completely exhausted. Hardly a glorious victory. My head was all over the place.

I had directly killed six people. Another eight or nine with the collapse of the tent. It was a deep, strange feeling that I had never felt before. I couldn’t exactly identify what it was. The fog in my head didn’t help.

Still, we had girls to get home. I couldn’t exactly stay on the ground doing nothing. We had to get moving.

I forced myself to my feet.

“Misty, Imannuel, you guys o-“

I cut myself off. The girls we had rescued were standing in a huddle a short ways away, all seemingly having backed away from someone else nearby. Someone who was flat on his back, wounded, burned, bleeding badly, but still conscious. Someone who should have died along with his men. The boss who had beat the shit out of me earlier.

“You…” I grabbed my staff and walked right over to him, the tip quickly gathering energy. “All of this is because of you. Your men are dead because of you. I was forced to kill because of you. These girls are terrified because of you!”

I aimed at his chest from point blank range, intending to let loose a flamethrower that would leave him a charred mess just like his men. I had been forced to take lives, and it was all his fault. He had to die too.

He didn’t even say anything as he stared down my staff. He was already probably in a tonne of pain. This was just me putting him out of his misery.

“Wait, Bakuchan!”

My flamethrower went wide of its target and straight into the ground as Immanuel pushed my staff to the side. The discharged energy melted the muddy ground where it struck, leaving a smouldering swamp of black and red.

I shot Immanuel a look that I realised was probably more aggressive than I intended, but he responded with stone-faced sincerity.

“He might have information on their buyer. If you kill him now we might fail to save more girls.”

It took a second for my addled brain to process his words, but when I did, I loosened my grip on my staff and my tensed muscles relaxed. The hell was I thinking? Why had I just been seized by the urge to vaporise that guy? He was no threat to me. He could barely even move. But I barely even thought about it before deciding to cook someone alive. What was wrong with me?

“Bakuchan…”

I looked back at Misty, who had her hands over chest. She almost seemed to flinch when I turned to her. I looked back at the rescued girls, and their reaction wasn’t much different. They looked at me wide-eyed, like I was a feral animal.

What the hell man… I’m the one who saved everyone…

“Bakuchan. Quit spacing out. We need to get these girls back to the city. And this man needs medical attention if we want to get anything useful out of him.”

Immanuel’s words forced me back to reality. He was right. What was I even doing spacing out at a time like that? The job wasn’t over yet.

“…come on, Mist. Let’s get moving.”

“Eh-? Uh- right…”

I tried to focus on thinking about our next steps, but I just couldn’t keep my head on straight.

What the hell is wrong with me?

***

Honestly I barely paid attention to anything the whole way back to the city. I was stuck in my own head that I tripped and fell on two separate occasions. Have to say, catching yourself as you fall is not a pleasant experience when your hands are burned to high fuck.

We saved the victims, dismantled the trafficking ring and captured a vital source of information, all without any of our own getting hurt. On paper, it was a rousing success. But none of it felt right to me.

Killing those people in the tent felt… strange. Not good, that’s for certain, but not entirely bad either. It was such a unique feeling, so complex and unexplainable, but not exactly desirable. So why had I lost control and almost killed the boss too? What had come over me?

When we traipsed back into the city, handing the prisoner and rescued girls over to the dumbfounded commander who had so clearly expected us to fail or die, it should have been a great victory, or at least a nice catharsis. But honestly the events barely registered in my mind. I ended up just stumbling off to my stone-walled bedroom and laying flat on my bed.

Physically, I was in a lot of pain. But that wasn’t what had me feeling so… weird. I couldn’t describe it. But I knew it had something to do with the events at the tent that day, and that brand new emotion I discovered while we were there.

The way Misty looked at me… what was wrong with me?

I didn’t want to wallow in self-pity, but I couldn’t shake it all out of my mind. I wanted something, anything to distract me from it, but I couldn’t get myself moving to find anything to do.

I suppose that’s where the small feeling of relief came from as I heard the bedroom door open. I expected Misty, but it was actually Immanuel. We met eyes as he stepped into the room, but neither of us said anything. Instead he just quietly came over and sat next to me on the bed. He seemed to be looking for something to say. Or maybe he already knew what he wanted to say but wasn't sure how.

“…was that the first time you’ve killed?”

“…yeah.”

“I thought so.” He sighed, but it didn’t sound like he was sighing at me. It sounded empathetic? I think? I’m no good with any of that. But he continued anyway. “I remember the first life I had to take. It wasn’t too different to today. Bandits, but instead of kidnapping girls to sell, they were attacking carriages and extorting them for gold. Things went south, one of them attacked Count Bellman, and I made the decision. It felt… so strange. The feeling was so unique. Not good, but not entirely bad either. My head was so addled after the fact that, the next time I had to run security for the count, I found myself aiming for lethal strikes from the get-go. As if killing again would give me some sense of clarity on what I had been feeling before.”

I looked up at him, but he seemed to be looking at something far away. Remembering, but not reminiscing, if his face was anything to go by. Everything he had said was…uncomfortably similar to what I felt when I left that tent. More than anything, I was confused, and I thought that killing the boss would give me clarity. Even though that’s obviously stupid. Killing is what gave me such a confusing feeling, so I should kill again to understand? That was ridiculous. But it seemed so right in the moment.

I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapped my arms around my legs, and hesitated slightly before asking “what happened?”

“My squadmates stopped me. Told me if I was gonna lose my nerve like that I couldn’t be trusted with such an important job. Made me sit out while they dealt with the threats. I became a liability because I let myself be led by my feelings. But if they hadn’t stopped me, I might have let killing become too easy. Because they forced me to exhibit restraint, I started to learn how to use my judgement and only kill when absolutely necessary.”

“Then… why did you become an executioner?” I thought it was a reasonable question, but he returned it with a sad smile.

“I’m not.”

“What?”

“My job was never to kill you, Bakuchan. It was to make sure you can be trusted to do your job. I was charged with keeping you in line, but I never intended to use lethal force. You just kind of assumed that was the case, and it was convenient, so I never corrected you.”

“…huh.”

Immanuel never intended to kill me? Hell, he was never even an executioner? Had they just implied it to keep me in line? I had been keeping my guard up a little this whole time thinking my life might be in danger, but that was never the case?

“So then… was us walking instead of teleporting just so you could judge me?”

“In a sense.”

“And now that you know me better… are we gonna teleport to the border with your boss instead of walking?”

“Is that what you want?”

I almost couldn’t believe my ears. All of this journeying, and sleeping rough, and dealing with trouble like floods and bandits… all of it could just end now? Just like that? And all I had to do was ask? I mean it was really that easy? This business that was supposed to take months could be over tomorrow?

I mean, I’d be an idiot to make any other decision, right?

“…no.”

“No?”

“No. I don’t want this journey to end yet.” I mean, how could I? After everything that had happened in the past day, how could that possibly be how it ends? “I’m not done travelling with you and Misty yet. We’ve got more to do. We still need to teach Misty more about magic. We still need to become heroes to the public. We still need to… we still need…”

I was letting my mouth run away from me too quickly, I didn’t even really know what I was trying to say. Why was I so desperate for this to keep going? Why was I so damn scared to be alone again?

Dammit all. Why do I feel like I'm gonna cry?

“Bakuchan?”

“…what if you’re not there to stop me next time?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… today. If you hadn’t stopped me, I’d have…” I didn’t want to say it, but we both knew what I meant. I’d have let killing become a habit. “I’m… scared to be alone again. I don’t… I don’t want to be a killer…”

Immanuel looked at me wide-eyed. I could hardly be surprised, though, right? It was hardly like me to just spill my guts like that.

The hell is wrong with me? I run out of jokes to deflect with or something? It’s pathetic.

“…okay,” said Immanuel with a sigh, though also a slight smile. “I’ll tell Count Bellman I don’t think you’re ready yet.”

Haaah… I’m so weak. All of that complaining I did about walking and waking up early and everything, but the moment I’m given an out I buckle like a coward. Scared to be alone? Who the hell am I? Bakuchan, the exploding nomad? The girl who worked alone, lived alone and travelled alone? When did she become so scared?

It was all this guys fault. Him and Misty. Travelling with them had turned me soft. I’d be totally fine if I hadn’t been with them. That's why I had to end the conversation with the strongest curse in my arsenal.

“Thank you.”