I turn to Ashmaw and bear my teeth. "The system is screwing me over. I can't move from this spot."

His eyebrows shoot to his forehead. "That is quite far-fetched. From where I stand, it is far more likely that you have given up, and that laughter is at your own uselessness."

"Wow, thanks for the compliment." I shake my head and jab a thumb back in the direction of the house. "I can still feel the coin I set down under some strong shields. If I could've actually moved, I would've teleported to it and launched one last desperate attack before teleporting away again."

Ashmaw nods. "I surmised as much when I saw the shields."

…Oh. Shit. Is that why my skill stopped me? Not because I was going to run away, but because my plan would've gotten me killed? No… no. It didn't let me teleport to Dell's either. Both can be true at the same time, though, I guess.

"Well, then, I guess you would've won. Want to kill me now and get it over with, or are you going to torch this place to the ground?"

"You are confusing. Initially, I thought you were the type to die pointlessly defending your allies—and then I thought you the type to abandon them at the first sign of danger. Yet here you stand before me–somehow confirming nor denying either of my suspicions." He taps his foot in the largest show of casual motion I've seen from him. "Do you cede that I am more powerful than you?"

I snort in surprise. "You kidding me? Did you not see what you did to the damn sky?" I wave a hand at the shattered sky. "The most I can do is throw some projectiles, make some shields, and teleport in a very predictable fashion. Reducing a city to rubble is way over my pay grade."

Ashmaw's frown only deepens for some reason. He studies me with the eye of a teacher that's not sure what to do with a misbehaving student once they've heard their side of the story–which is way better than him just killing me. Maybe this is actually working somehow. But I can't let him get… bored, or annoyed, or just randomly decide I'm not interesting enough to live. I need to know exactly what he wants from me so I can play to that.

"What do you want from me, Ashmaw?" I ask directly. "You're obviously not just with Stonestep Solutions, or else I'd be dead and gone already; so what's keeping those cracks from erupting and killing me dead?"

"Unnecessary. 'Killing you dead', as you say, is merely restating the point that is clearly made by the word 'kill'." He says with his focus obviously elsewhere. "You have caught my eye, miss Shelby. The poor human you took over must be screaming from inside whatever cage of a mind you keep her in."

With a click of his tongue and a hiss of smoke, he raises the hand he isn't keeping behind his back and snaps his fingers. Most of the cracks disappear from the sky–save for the ones over us, the house, and a random one off in the distance. Ashmaw closes the distance between us in a single stride and tenderly brushes Pearl's shell with his fingertips.

"Ah, I so wish I could have seen you alive… yet even as a remnant, you carry such strength." He sighs wistfully. "Alas, I was born too late to experience the majesty of a being that resisted the system at the height of its power."

I stare blankly at Ashmaw, confusion slowly bleeding away into realization. "The hell did Stonestep Solutions tell you about me?"

He lets his hand fall and steps away mournfully. "Nothing but the truth. That a long-dead Shellraiser took over a poor human, and that their consciousnesses have merged in an imperfect harmony."

"Uh… no. I'm me. Shelby." I pat my chest, then reach up to the shell. "This is Pearl. Short for something else I'm not sure I can tell you. She's inside the shell, but she's a complete living being. Not a… spirit, or whatever you think she is."

Ashmaw's eyes widen, and he throws back his head in a hearty laugh. "Ha-ha! Using humor as a way to bargain for your life. I have yet to see that–thank you for the laugh. Your death will leave a long-lasting impression for that alone."

I scramble to tap Pearl's shell again as the crack above gets… hot. "No, no, no; wait wait wait. I can prove it to you! Pearl, come out for a second."

He stops laughing instantly. "Insistence on a joke makes it far less humorous. Now your memory will be… tainted… by…"

Pearl crawls out of her Shell, confident and glistening. Ashmaw falls perfectly silent, his eyes glazing over as if going blind in real-time. He reaches up with both hands and rubs them vigorously, then swallows hard and looks away.

"I have not felt the system's censorship in… years." He murmurs in awe. "To show me something the system still thinks I should not see… there are very, very few things I can safely assume it to be. One of which is that you are telling me the truth. Which would mean that the system thinks the knowledge that a shellrasier exists is fine to know, but that actually seeing it–no, them–is not… how fascinating. You, Shelby–are you not affected by this?"

I shake my head. "No."

"Perhaps it is because you are not native to this world. I… perhaps I was too hasty." He smiles, sending a chill down my spine as the two cracks closest to us disappear. "In all my hunts, I never thought I would be able to kill a shellraiser. Are you bound to this human… Pearl?"

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Pearl bristles at Ashmaw saying her name. "I hate this guy."

Ashmaw winces, then sighs in exhilaration. "Ah, how my mind prickles at the unknowable. How divine to be blessed by the pains of what the system does not want me to know. What did she say, Shelby? Please do not leave anything out."

"She said she hates you."

"Does she? How wonderful!" A vibrant orange tongue snakes out of Ashmaw's mouth and runs over his lips. "I so hate when my prey comes to like me. Their screams are never quite as… satisfying."

"Yeah, I definitely hate this guy." Pearl mutters. "We should run, Sheby. He put his guard down and Illumisia has the others. There's nothing left here for us."

"We definitely should." I agree, but my body doesn't. "So… what happens now, Ashmaw?"

He cocks his head even further to the side until his ear touches his shoulder. "Why, nothing has changed. I kill you, take a trophy, and become the sole being who can say that they killed a shellraiser since the days of old. Though I am considering how best to end you so that I can keep the trophy intact…"

I shudder as he shifts his head from side to side, knocking his skull against his shoulders at an increasingly violent pace. To say the guy has a few screws loose might be an understatement, or maybe these 'gris' are all like this, but it definitely doesn't work in my favor.

"You know, if you let me go, you could fight Pearl later when she's much stronger. What good is a hunt if you don't have a harrowing tale of the fight to go along with it?" I spread my hands in a show of peace. "Just think of it; you wouldn't just be the first person to kill a shellraiser–you'd be the first one to fight one on even ground and come away victorious."

He shakes his head while it bobs from side to side. Without even considering what I said for a second. "I can make something up. As long as I have the shell and remnants for proof, there will be no doubt. Just think of it… I will spin the truth that everyone remembers. Ooohhh… it gives me the shivers."

Disgust writes itself onto my face; this guy isn't just a hunter, he's the worst kind of hunter. Back on Earth, he'd go out in a jeep with a bunch of other people and stalk a lion for days, exhausting it without an ounce of his own skill, then take the easiest shot in the world and brag like he ran it down with his own two legs. And without anyone around to prove him wrong, his word becomes the truth.

Pearl will be remembered how he sees fit. I won't allow that. I… wait. We aren't alone. The constant magic scratching at my mind is proof of it.

"Too bad the psychic is here. Or else you'd get to make up whatever heroic story you want." I sigh in false sympathy and turn to look in the direction of the magic. "But with them here, all you'll be remembered as is the guy who killed a human and claimed he fought a shellraiser."

I smile coldly and clasp my hands behind my back, watching as Ashmaw's oscillating neck comes to a stop. His smile is gone, and his tongue slithers back into his mouth.

"Do you think they're constantly reporting back to Stonestep Solutions, or are they cut off right now? Because if I were them, I'd be pretty damn terrified of the conversation I'm overhearing." The magic around me dips, and the air gap around Ashmaw disappears. "Oh, would you look at that. The psychic just told us they haven't contacted Stonestep Solutions yet. If you hurry, you might get to them before they send the message."

Pearl laughs cruelly as all the remaining joy leaves Ashmaw's face. "Aw, look at him! He's figured out that having even one bystander means he can't push the story he wants. Too bad, too bad."

Ashmaw's lips curl into a snarl. "Stonestep Solutions wants you dead more than anything. The psychic will corroborate my story if it means you are dealt with. All that I need is confirmation and the both of you will cease to exist."

I raise my chin ever so slightly. "It also means that if said confirmation never comes, then you can't kill me. Because then you'll never get the chance to claim you hunted a shellraiser–just that you killed one that couldn't even defend herself. The last of a species, put down just for some freak's sick amusement."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." Pearl shakes her head and waggles a finger at Ashmaw. "I'm just a poor, defenseless little shellraiser. Killing me would be about as hard as filleting a fish that's already dead. Not great for the kind of story you're trying to tell."

"I have no idea what she is saying, yet I feel that our hate is now reciprocal." Ashmaw seethes. "So be it. The human dies now and the shellraiser dies publicly when she is powerful enough to put up a mediocre fight."

"Whoah, there. We're a package deal. You kill me and Pearl dies, too. Swear on my life." I put a hand over my heart with the most serious face I can manage. "Give us a couple of years, then I'll give you the hunt you're looking for. Of course, Stonestep Solutions wants me dead right now, and I can feel the psychic trying to do something…"

Ashmaw growls and flicks his fingers. Heat and light erupts in the distance, so intense that I have to look away. Before the light can fade, the psychic's magic dies. I let the lump in my throat linger as Ashmaw plants a hand on my shoulder opposite Pearl and pushes his face less than an inch from mine.

"You have disgraced me, Shelby the human and Pearl the shellraiser. I do not forget such… slights." He hisses, trailing the last 's' into a click of his teeth. "When the time comes, I will kill you violently and publicly. Perhaps Palastia or another city will fall in our battle. And when it is done, I will parade your severed head and Pearl's crystallized remains around with pride and victory unseen to this day. And so you never forget…"

He grabs my forearm without Clamber's armlet and grips it tight. Heat sears into my flesh, but the pain is nowhere close to the worst I've felt. My eyes might water, but he doesn't get a single sound or flinch out of me. And when he steps back, the skin under where he touched pulses and writhes like a mass of worms.

"Your lives are mine." He says as if stating a fact. "If you die before I claim them, I will hunt you down in whatever afterlife may exist and grant you eternal torment."

A blast of utter destruction rises from the roof, and before I can raise a hand to block the light, it disappears. Taking Ashmaw with it. I ball my hands into fists and breathe a shaky sigh of relief; it isn't technically a victory, but the psychic is dead and Ashmaw left. That's about the best outcome I could've hoped for.

I unclench one fist and reach up to rub the irritated skin. There's no magic coming from it, and I can already feel Illumisia's gifted immune system vigorously attacking it. If it was supposed to be a tracking mark, then he made a huge mistake.

Because the second this quest is done, and my skill isn't actively screwing me over, Illumisia gets unlocked. And he's definitely target number one.

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