Tristan

Tristan walked back to the inn in silence, even after Sophie and Sneakers eventually caught up. He wasn't trying to walk fast--or slow for that matter. He wasn't thinking about pace or anything like that. He was still wrestling with his own discomfort, and it made so little sense! He felt like he was trying to untie a ball of yarn that had knots on every layer.

All he could think about was the fight, about Timetwister. Why was it bothering him?

They'd killed her in seconds. Why was this blessed doubt or whatever lasting so much longer? He hadn't felt this way at all after killing Venom.

It's okay, he tried to reassure himself. It was a fair fight that we'd just prepared really well for.

But that wasn't enough. If that was what was bothering him, he felt he'd have worked past it by now. So what else was bothering him?

He'd never really been good at all that self-reflection stuff his mom had talked about, just as he'd never been good at the pond with no ripples.

Now his pond was filled with ripples. There was more ripple than water.

So how was he meant to deal with it? He definitely couldn't pretend it hadn't happened. Trying to bury his feelings about it by pretending it didn't bother him clearly wasn't working either.

Every time he looked at Sophie, he could see her concern plastered across her face. Was she right to be? He didn't want to make her worry, but he didn't know how to stop looping back to that silent moment where he stood over the body with the bloody blade in his hands. He didn't even have that blessed sword any more! It didn't even exist! So why couldn't he stop thinking about how it had done its job seemingly too well?

At least Sophie had taken the hint and not brought it up again on their trip through the darkening streets.

As they walked through the doors of the inn, Tristan went straight to the table they'd sat at before, all but ignoring the waitress who asked if they wanted anything.

"Maybe just waters until our friend arrives," Sophie supplied, trying to be polite while still casting a concerned glance his way.

Tristan was just glad when the woman moved on. He didn't feel like an audience at the moment.

"We're going to celebrate with Billy, right?"

Sophie's question hung in the air. Tristan wasn't sure he wanted to answer. He doubted he'd feel up to it, but they had made an agreement. He wasn't going to break it.

He suddenly felt restricted by the obligation, which was stupid, as it was meant to be a celebration! So why was he growing aggravated? He tried to rein it in. He needed to stop letting small things bother him.

The blinking in the corner of his vision, for example, absolutely should not have been as annoying as it was. It was starting to drive him crazy! He could tier up whenever he wanted to now. Shouldn't that be a good thing? But the very frustration he was feeling more than proved that he absolutely should not go through with his tier-up yet. He had to be more grounded for that.

The waitress returned with waters, and Tristan took one. He lifted it, feeling the cool glass in his strong hands.

He wasn't sure whether he wanted Billy to return sooner or later.

At least the bar itself was less crowded than before. It put Tristan a little more at ease. He could see the door, too, so no one could enter or leave without him noticing. Maybe he would distract himself that way.

But embracing distractions won't solve the problem.

He downed his water in one long swallow. The coolness should have been refreshing. He was thirsty, after all. But it didn't satisfy him.

Across the table, Sophie's frown deepened. Yet when she spoke, it was with kindness. "Should we order food? What are you feeling like?"

The second sentence almost felt like a little test to Tristan, whose eyes sank into his empty glass. "Maybe? I don't feel particularly hungry though."

"Uh huh," Sophie said, clearly measuring his response.

With a rustle of feathers, Sneakers flitted over to him and landed on his shoulder. Then he pecked the side of Tristan's head, hard.

"Ow, Sneakers! What the--?"

"You've been acting strange ever since we accomplished our mission, Tristan," Sophie interrupted. "And not wanting food? That's not like you at all. What's going on?"

Sneakers nudged him, too, from his perch. This time with a headbutt rather than a sharp peck.

"I'm fine!" Tristan answered, anger flaring within him, and he stood up quickly enough that Sneakers flapped away. "Why do you keep assuming something is wrong?!"

Rather than answer aloud, Sophie pointed to the table where his water glass now lay broken beneath Tristan's bleeding hand.

Seeing it with his own eyes, the swordsmith was suddenly aware of the faint pain pulsing up his arm, and the anger quickly turned to embarrassment.

"You really didn't even feel it?" she asked.

Tristan clasped his bleeding hand with his other and tried to use a napkin to stop the bleeding. "I'm fine," he repeated, but with a lot less conviction.

"Is that why you haven't mentioned that you can tier up even once yet?"

But Tristan was saved from answering immediately as, from one of the doors to the kitchen, a server rushed out and headed straight to their table where she asked if Tristan was okay while quickly cleaning up the shattered glass.

"Yeah, sorry," Tristan muttered.

The server clearly didn't want to wade into their conversation, as she tried to explain there was not a healer on staff before hurrying away with the broken bits.

Tristan's hand tightened, sending with it a fresh flash of pain that he outwardly ignored. He turned back to Sophie and answered her question. "I was going to think about it after a good night's sleep."

"That's probably a good idea."

"You're both still alive!" Billy exclaimed loudly as he strode through the door, precisely an hour after they'd split up. "Gods, am I glad to see you! And by 'both' I actually mean all three of you," he said, including Sneakers this time as he swung into the seat between Tristan and Sophie. "How are you?! And what's a good idea?"

Sophie spoke up quickly. "Well, with our success, Tristan gained the final level he needed to advance to tier 3!"

Billy leaned over and clapped the swordsmith on the back. "Wow, man, congratulations! That's amazing! Also not so surprising given what you were able to accomplish."

Then he paused as he looked at Sophie. "Am I seeing this right? Did you--?"

"Gain three levels? Yes I did!" the astralist said, beaming.

"Gods be praised," Billy said. "We definitely need to celebrate! But--" He lowered his voice. "How did all that go, by the way?" He must have seen Tristan's hand then, because the driver also added, "Is that how your hand got so messed up?"

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Tristan grumbled. "It's not that bad."

Sophie coughed. "Ah, no, that injury came after, actually. But the plan went off practically without a hitch. It was almost too smooth, if such a thing is possible."

Sitting quietly, Tristan began massaging his hand. "She never really stood a chance."

Billy leaned back and whistled. "But she was tier 4, right? She definitely stood a chance."

"You weren't there," Tristan replied.

"What, did you actually kick a tier 4's butt? It sounds like..."

"Yeah..." Tristan said, not really listening to whatever else Billy was going on about

Billy's questions had made Tristan think about the fight again, but from a slightly new angle.

If someone like Timetwister, a tier 4 caster, was that vulnerable, what does that mean for someone like Sophie who was only tier 2?

And that was when it clicked.

He knew Sophie wasn't stacking Endurance like he was. She didn't wear heavy armor, or wield a shield, and she definitely hadn't mentioned having any sort of defensive cooldown like some of his other allies had had. She didn't have spells capable of healing herself, or buffing her defenses for that matter. She was just a simple caster. But possibly even less than that, since she was a 'pet Class.' All she had, now that he thought of it, were her astrals. That was it.

Her astrals, and now me.

That wasn't enough. Not by a long shot.

What if people try to come for her because of me? What if someone from the Steelblood Guild decides that a good way to come at me is through her? She's in my Permanent Party. They'd be right to think it would hurt me to hurt her. It would.

That line of thinking wasn't leaving him feeling good at all. There had to be something more that he could do--other than just helping her grind through levels faster.

What if I make her something? Not armor, definitely, because she'd never be able to wear anything I made. Couldn't be a typical item either, for the same reason. Maybe something consumable?

He hadn't tried crafting anything in that vein before. He wasn't really into potions or scrolls, but he could try to do something like that with his enchanting. It wouldn't be too big a stretch, thanks to the foundational [Inscribe] skill. And given the success he'd just had with that and the silencing sword... But then his Core came to mind again, and he knew he wouldn't be able to help her in that way either.

What else can I do? How am I going to help protect her in the middle of combat?

An idea came to him, and as he judged it, he figured it might not actually be a terrible one.

I could make a skill that could help!

He'd read enough in the Divine Collection to have found out that upgrading skills was just the beginning for some people. In fact, he should have already put the whole 'design a skill' idea together, since Jamal had been training him with some of his own. When he'd first told Tristan about the Roaming Blade, the swordmaster had called it one of his originals. Tristan just hadn't turned it into a full skill yet.

What would a 'Tristan original' even look like? he wondered. Suddenly the idea sparked a new chain reaction in his mind. Places that were usually reserved for thoughts of swords and runes now began firing off as they began considering where he could begin when designing a skill.

It honestly felt kind of incredible, as if a whole new door had opened to him, revealing to him another new realm of thought that had always existed but he just hadn't noticed it yet. He felt a resonance within him that warmed him.

And, once again, a notification appeared.

[Quest unlocked: Create a Skill]

It was yet another unexpected reward from what had already been an objectively incredible day--no matter how it was leaving him feeling. And of course now he was even more conflicted! Why was he receiving another quest? At least this seemed much simpler than the one that was constantly testing his limits.

Well, he thought, what's the worst expanding it could do? At least then I'll figure out what I might be reaching for.

So he did.

[Quest: Create a Skill]

Creation has and always will be a part of your Path, but branching out beyond the fundamentals is something you've only begun to test. To progress, you must create a wholly new and original skill.

Required to reach the fourth tier.

There were several things off about this quest, as Tristan read it. Firstly, the expanded version really seemed more directed at him than any other quest he'd received. Secondly, it was written in a way that it included details almost like someone had been watching over him. Surely that wasn't true though, right? Thirdly, the final line was totally unexpected. It was even set apart, so there was no doubt that it was not only important but also true.

'Required to reach the fourth tier.'

Tristan didn't know how to even begin feeling about that. He'd known that people got additional requirements to tier up eventually. Jamal or Cherry or someone had told him that. But usually those things didn't come until much, much later. He was technically still tier 2, for crying out loud! He hadn't even taken the time to tier up yet, as the bloody blinking notification in the corner of his vision continued to remind him. Yet here he was, face to face with a requirement to reach tier 4.

What if it's not the only one? he suddenly worried. What if, because I got this so early, I'm going to have to do more?

The most obvious inclusion would be to finish his Path Quest to [Avenge The Brightshield].

But that quest doesn't say anywhere that it's 'Required to reach the fourth tier.' He even pulled it back up to double check.

Something across the table from him moved quickly enough to snag Tristan's attention. Looking up, he saw that all the others--Sophie, Billy, and Sneakers--were looking at him with very worried expressions.

"He's definitely not okay," Tristan overheard Sophie whisper.

Billy bit his lip, though that might have just been because it was now clear that Tristan was paying attention to them again.

Tristan had enjoyed the distraction of the new quest, however fleeting. But now he was back to the stinging of his hand, and the concerned looks.

"You will probably want to go get that hand healed," the driver said. "There's a place in town that might be open this time of day, if you hurry over there, but..."

"I'll be fine until the morning," Tristan said.

"You keep saying stuff like that," Sophie fired back.

"Yeah, and I mean it."

Her frown deepened. "I'm sure you do. That's not going to change the fact that I'm still worried about you."

"And I appreciate that, really." Tristan pushed back his chair. "Look, I know we talked about celebrating tonight, but I have a lot to think about right now, and I kind of just want to hit the hay."

The other two exchanged a concerned look that raised Tristan's hackles a bit, but he tamped it down.

"Alright," Sophie eventually said. "See you in the morning. Though, you might want to think about what that will mean for us. We've been kind of single-minded in this mission for a while. What would you like to do now that we're past... this part of it?"

It was a fair question, and truly it was one Tristan hadn't even considered yet. If nothing else, having such a question blindside him proved to him that he wasn't all right, this definitely pushed it into his view.

"Yeah," he muttered. "Maybe head back to Jamal's. Or up to your family's place? Didn't you say something about wanting to do that?"

Sophie immediately stiffened. "Ahem. Yes. We'll talk in the morning."

There was clearly more that she didn't want to say, but Tristan wasn't about to push into it. Not today. Not when he had so much already spinning around within him like a tornado.

Visions of Timetwister's dead body were still haunting him, and how it would have been all too easy for the same thing to happen to any of his friends. Not just Sophie, he now realized, but Chessa or Opie, too.

There was also the excitement that he'd finally started to feel from having opened up those notifications and getting flooded with experience, even if most of it was wasted for him.

The tier 3 notification itself, blinking and blinking and blinking, both annoying and promising, was another.

For some reason, as he climbed the stairs to his room for the evening, he found himself thinking back to his fight against Shadow. It felt it had been the exact opposite of the fight against Timetwister, which filled Tristan with even more warring emotions. Since one of those was immense pride, it only stoked the newly-minted conflict even more. He didn't want to be like Shadow. He certainly didn't want to believe he was becoming more like him either! But thinking back to how Shadow had described the Brightside quest, hadn't his attack on Timetwister basically been the same?

He threw open the door to his room and didn't even bother turning on the light. He just pulled the door closed behind him and trudged toward his bed, shedding layers of clothing as he went. Eventually, he settled in on the edge of the mattress, just sitting there with his head in his hands.

This whole thing should have felt so much better. He should have been happy about crossing another {Legendslayer} off the list.

Maybe he'd get there with time. Once he got past the ease of it.

He knew there were weeks of planning that had gone into it, and more money than his entire family had probably spent in half of a year back in Woodsedge, but that didn't make it any better. It had felt like an execution, and he didn't want to be an executioner.

He wasn't going to go down that kind of Path. That wasn't who he wanted to be.

As he reclined at last on the bed, Tristan wondered if sleep actually would be able to cure what was ailing him. He also wondered whether he was going to be able to sleep at all. The nagging concern that had built up in the center of his being wasn't just going to go away with time, was it? He doubted that. This was something more, something darker. It almost felt like something was dragging him down. Not to Venom's level--he'd never sink that low--but definitely down.

As he drifted off to sleep, Tristan Hammerson wrestled with all that he was feeling. He wasn't wholly successful, but at least he was on his way.

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