'What's a Level.'

  Simon turned the phrase over in his mind. He felt like he'd learned more about Valtia with those three words than in the entire past week.

  His rushed transmigration had left him with canyon-wide gaps in his understanding of this world. Voice-In-The-Sky hadn't been given sufficient time to explain things in detail. Aside from describing Valtia as a medieval land of fantasy, nearly everything else was left vague. There were many burning questions that Simon never got the opportunity to ask.

  Chief among them was this: how much of the gods' RPG-style system had been invented wholesale for their champions? Conversely, which parts of it were offshoots of systems that already existed in Valtia?

  Did the people of this world have access to Levels, stat points, and EXP?

  Simon had been on the fence regarding that theory. The main piece of evidence in its favor was how Identify assigned a Level to whoever he used it on. Level 9 for the Red-Eyed Hunter, Level 5 for Katarina, Level 89 for the Sealed Demon of Ruination, etc. That lined up neatly with how the gods' system seemed to operate.

  However, Identify had also labeled all of those as Estimated Levels. Why would the system need to make estimates for others when Simon's Level was clearly defined?

  While it was possible to come up with various excuses to keep the theory alive...the simplest answer was that Levels didn't even exist in Valtia. The system had merely been eyeballing how much of a threat the Identified targets were.

  Which wasn't to say that people here couldn't have strength akin to Levels. Lucette had known actual magic, and she'd been much stronger and faster than a typical woman of her stature. But that didn't mean her spells were based on Skills, or that her heightened parameters were derived from Levels and stat points. After all, elevated superhumans weren't uncommon in tales of fantasy.

  Different world, different rules.

  Katarina's admission just now had been the final nail in the coffin. She didn't know what a Level was. If RPG game mechanics were a thing in Valtia, everyone would know about them. Their very presence would've fundamentally warped the shape of society.

  And not in any good way. Simon could scarcely begin to imagine a culture with instant positive reinforcement for murdering someone. That sounded...rough. He pitied the transmigrators who may have suffered through worlds where Levels and EXP were an intrinsic aspect of reality.

  In hindsight, he didn't need to ask Katarina in order to confirm his theory. None of Kirkelas, Ebris, or Lucette had ever mentioned Levels, stat points, or EXP. If RPG mechanics were a part of Valtia, then they would've been too big of a topic not to come up at least once.

  Yet he had asked – and now the woman was staring at him, impatiently waiting to hear what a Level was. He couldn't tell her everything, or even close to everything, but he needed to give her some type of answer.

  "You've never heard of Levels?" Simon put on a mask of mild surprise, as if she was the one at fault for being ignorant of such a well-known subject. "That's unexpected."

  Katarina furrowed her brow at him. "Caelryn is the second-largest city in the Severed Isles. If I didn't hear of Levels there, then the saying can't be that well-known. Where did you learn of it?"

  "Elsewhere." Time to misdirect. He'd rather she be asking him about Levels than his origin. "It's a general term for how strong you are. Higher Levels equates to a more powerful combatant. For example – do you think you could've beaten any of the four slavers in a one-on-one fight?"

  She sent him an unimpressed, eyes-half-closed look. "Simon, I am trying not to cast undue suspicion upon you, but questions like that make it exceedingly difficult. There are few noble reasons you would have to ask someone who they're capable of killing."

  "Making conversation? Friendly competition?"

  Katarina barked out a laugh. "More like sizing them up as a target. You may have avoided telling me where you hail from, but if friendly competition is where your mind goes to, then it's evident you've lived a life of luxury."

  She wasn't wrong. While Simon hadn't exactly been rich on Earth – especially in the second half of his life – he'd probably lived a more comfortable life than Valtia's royalty. Electricity? Air conditioning? Supermarkets? Refrigerators? Water taps? All common back home, and all insanely opulent by medieval fantasy standards.

  Before he could attempt to salvage the conversation, Katarina sighed, running her hand through her shoulder-length red hair. "Not that it matters here. We both know you could slay me with ease. If you're asking me how strong I am anyway, then...is it to accurately gauge how useful I would be as an ally? In case a Fell Beast or another band of slavers attack us."

  Simon nodded. "Correct."

  Thanks for coming up with an explanation. Saves me the trouble.

  This was why Identify was such a massive advantage – no one else seemed to have it. From Katarina's perspective, he was a Demon to be feared, someone who could effortlessly slaughter a group of bandits and heal from debilitating injuries overnight. She ascribed an inherent degree of competence to his actions, assuming that there was an underlying logic to every decision he made, even if its meaning wasn't readily apparent to her.

  All of that might've gone out of the window if she could use Identify. Simon's Level 7 was barely higher than Katarina's. It was certainly lower than whatever concept of him she'd built up in her mind.

  If I pretend to be a full Demon, then I can also pretend to be much stronger than I am. That'll open a lot of doors for me. And without Identify, most people won't be willing to call my bluff.

  He shouldn't introduce himself as a Demon, as he doubted they were even allowed in human society, but if the opportunity arose to Shapeshift his arm during a pivotal moment...yes. That could work nicely.

  "Then I'm sorry to disappoint you," Katrina muttered. Rather than apologetic, her tone sounded bitter and strained, like she was failing to keep long-buried emotions in check. "If enemies come calling, my combat skills will prove to be of little assistance. I couldn't have defeated a slaver. Not any single one of them."

  Simon raised an eyebrow. Based on their respective Estimated Levels, he'd figured as much – yet he hadn't anticipated that Katarina would possess such a dire view of herself. People tended to think 'Yeah, I can take them', even when they really, really couldn't.

  "What about Torben?" he posited. "As in, the quiet male slaver who captured you with Relia. He looked slightly weaker than the others."

  "Yet he would have beaten me. Unless I caught him unawares, or crept up behind him in the dark, which isn't what you're asking. My areas of expertise lay in stealth, thievery...fleeing."

  Her mouth twisted into a self-derisive sneer. "Although that last one is debatable, it seems. Couldn't have escaped the slavers without your aid. Doubt I would be able to escape a Fell Beast, either. Let alone a Demon such as yourself."

  At that, Simon frowned. "You know I'm not going to follow you after we reach Springwater Village, right? If you want to part ways, then that's perfectly acceptable."

  "I believe you. That doesn't change my own helplessness. If you wanted to hold me and my father in the palm of your hand, keeping us like trinkets for your collection, then you could."

  Katarina gripped at the fabric of her worn, roughspun tunic, her hands clenching into fists. "Some people in this world are blessed with money, majesty, or magic. I am not one of them – will never be one of them. My father and I are penniless, the opposite of nobility, and neither of us were born with an affinity for mana. There's no point in denying our lot in life."

  Think I'm missing a bit of context here. She used the word 'magic' as if it was interchangeable with 'power'. From what Katarina was saying, some people had a higher affinity for mana...and that resulted in more physical strength? Or they were born with abilities that others lacked? Like how Lucette could cure her poison with magic, while the rest of the slavers were plain out of luck.

  For the hundredth time, Simon gave thanks to the gods' system. It had granted him an unparalleled capacity for growth. People born without deep pocketbooks or an affinity for mana might never rise above their station, but he was a unique existence; Valtia's ultimate special snowflake. As long as he continued to survive and improve, nothing was truly out of reach.

  Whereas someone like Katarina is being stonewalled by factors beyond her control.

  Thinking of her in that manner sparked embers of pity in his chest. "You aren't penniless anymore," Simon pointed out. "Half of this carriage's stockpile belongs to you."

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  She flinched with shock. "Half?"

  "To the victors go the spoils. We killed the slavers, so we get their stuff. Let's split everything down the middle. Half for me, half for you and Gerold."

  Her gaze shifted back and forth. The motion seemed ingrained and automatic, as if being offered a favorable deal meant she should check the shadows for knives in the dark. "I only killed one slaver," she mumbled. "And you would've slain her without my intervention. And you could take everything here if you wished. What reason–"

  "Just say yes," Simon deadpanned.

  His exasperated tone seemed to reach her where honest generosity had failed. "You're...serious." She drummed ten twitchy fingers on her legs, nervous energy building within. "...No. Too uneven. Invisible strings attached. There must be an exchange. Balance the debt."

  "Don't try to slit my throat as I sleep, and we'll call it square."

  Katarina froze. Slowly, something resembling a smile snuck onto her face. "Well. A fair deal, I'd say."

  --

  They reached Springwater Village one day later.

  The carriage's Artifact – titled the Navigation Crystal – did all the hard work for them. According to Katarina, it was attuned to notable locations and landmarks across Valtia, and could even remember places that it had visited before. With the roads clear and empty, and the carriage utilizing an autopilot that put self-driving cars to shame, their ride was a straight shot to Springwater.

  As soon as the impoverished village crested over the horizon, Katarina tensed up, as if just now recalling a matter of importance. "Two issues to discuss," she hurriedly said, turning to face Simon.

  He side-eyed their rapidly approaching destination. "Couldn't have done this earlier?"

  "Was distracted by my father." She breathed in, gathering her resolve. "I seek to strike an accord with you."

  "Oh?" Simon laced his fingers together, adopting the posture and countenance of a scheming Saturday morning cartoon villain. It wasn't necessary, but it was fun. "What sort of accord?"

  "The slavers mentioned that Springwater is going through troubles – more troubles than usual. Hard times make for desperate people. To hungry vultures, my father and I will appear as feasts to be devoured."

  Katarina hardened her gaze. "I would like to petition for your protection. At least until I've brought my father to a physician. In exchange, I shall–"

  Simon held up a hand. "I'll set my own terms, thanks." In truth, he'd be fine with escorting them for free, but this was a good opportunity to set some ground rules. "If you desire my protection, then you must agree to a vow of secrecy. Don't tell anyone in Springwater that I'm a Demon. Not a soul. It would make things...rather inconvenient for the three of us."

  "Huh? I wouldn't have revealed your nature regardle– nevermind!" Wearing an expression of pure befuddlement, Katarina hastily cut herself off before she could torpedo her own negotiating position. "That is truly all you require?"

  "Correct."

  She blinked, then nodded, having finally learned not to look a gift horse in the mouth. "I agree to your terms. Thank you."

  Seconds passed. Katarina stared at him. A companionable silence gradually turned pensive.

  Far too late, Simon realized that she was waiting on him. "What is it?" he asked.

  "Aren't you going to initiate a Contract? That's what happens in all the stories."

  Ah. Memories surged to the forefront of Kirkelas writing black-scrawled words in mid-air. Right. Contracts. The binding vows that were apparently a Demon's bread-and-butter.

  And which Simon couldn't do – yet – because he wasn't actually a Demon. He'd experimented with forming a basic Contract using Channel Energy, but it seemed incompatible with that particular brand of magic. Maybe he would learn a specialized Contract ability later down the line, but for now it eluded him.

  "Is there any need?" He shrugged, affecting an air of nonchalance. "We've done without Contracts until now."

  "...That we have."

  Katarina stared at him once again. This time, her gaze wasn't wary, fearful, or pensive – it was piercing, analytical, as if reviewing every spoken word and action taken since the moment they'd met. She didn't know what was wrong with him, but she knew something was.

  For several long seconds that put Simon's poker face to the test, he felt genuinely worried that she was about to figure him out.

  Then her eyes shifted to his right arm. It was in human form, not currently Shapeshifted...but the sight of his silver-black scales and taloned fingers wouldn't be forgotten anytime soon.

  Just like that, the spell was broken. Katarina's piercing gaze dulled to a sort of resigned acceptance. While she knew that Simon didn't fit the mold of a typical Demon, she didn't have the evidence to prove what that meant. And even if she did, where would that get her? Earning the ire of a prospective ally? Better to let sleeping dogs lie and take her victories where she could.

  It was a look that Simon was intimately familiar with. He'd seen it all the time in foster care.

  "Then we go without Contracts," she murmured. "Yet there is still the second issue to discuss. A dilemma that will afflict us both."

  Katarina swept her arm around the carriage interior, gesturing at their piles of plunder. "Unlike Caelryn City, I doubt that Springwater Village has secure accommodations for housing caravans. If we leave our valuables alone and unguarded, someone else will come along to keep them company."

  "You think people will rob our carriage in the time it takes for one doctor's visit?"

  "No." Her lips curled into a wry smirk. "They'd rob it in a quarter of that time. Or merely activate the Navigation Crystal and set off for brighter pastures. It's what I would've done."

  "Makes sense." Simon pointed at the glowing Artifact. "So we bring that with us – and the spare Navigation Crystal we looted from Relia's carriage. Those are the most important things here. We'll bring other high-priority items as well. Leave whatever we can do without. Would suck if people rob our carriage anyway, but Gerold takes priority."

  "Agreed on my father taking priority, but I must oppose the notion of carrying priceless Artifacts in a destitute village. Even if we hide the Crystals on our person, some keen-eyed watchers will notice."

  She folded her arms over her chest. "And then they'll ambush us – with the intent to kill. Just one Navigation Crystal could alter the course of someone's future. There's no shortage of people out there who would condemn a dozen nameless others to better their own livelihood."

  Is that also what you would've done? Simon almost asked, restraining himself at the last moment. They'd nearly arrived at Springwater, and it would be an inefficient use of time to remind Katarina that she'd recently graduated from the Valtia School of Hard Knocks, going from non-killer to killer.

  "Fair point." Rummaging through the assorted items, he found the spare Navigation Crystal that they'd taken from Relia's carriage. "I'll just have to hide our stuff in a place that prying eyes can't see."

  Katarina's response morphed into a choking gasp as the light of Inventory swallowed the Crystal.

  Simon whistled merrily as he canvassed the carriage, picking out their most treasured items like he was shopping at a department store. Sparkling gold coins? Inventory. Pristine new weapons? Inventory. Food and water rations? Straight to Inventory. Malnourishment was something he intended to never experience again. Inventory's storage space was pretty generous, so he had plenty of room to work with.

  Let's see...guess I don't need these anymore. To free up space, Simon dumped a heap of rusted blades and armor on the floor. He gave one last salute to the collection of junk, honoring the skeleton crew of Caelryn Cave for their sacrifice. That should let me slot in the remaining poisons and antidotes. I'll keep Stuart's meat in case of emergency, though. Oooh, right, portable Warding Orbs! Gotta grab–

  "What."

  It was less of a question and more of an utterance. Simon glanced over at Katarina, finding her in a state of exhausted disbelief, as if she was tired of being shocked in new and creative ways.

  Belatedly, Simon remembered that he hadn't used Inventory in front of her since killing Ebris. And with how chaotic that moment had been, she could've easily interpreted it as him producing a hidden blade from his sleeve. She looked at him now with eyes pleading for an explanation, the dark circles underneath them seeming to deepen by the second.

  He raised his right arm – still in human form – and waggled his fingers. "Demon magic."

  Katarina declined to comment.