Simon was feeling rather pleased with himself – although he knew he probably shouldn't be.

  In fairness, threatening Jonathan had worked like a charm. The physician took one look at Simon's demonic arm and capitulated on the spot. Based on his bulging eyes and how his expression morphed into a rictus of despair, he would've agreed to just about anything.

  Which made the 'negotiations' that followed somewhat awkward.

  No, Simon wasn't interested in pressing people into a lifetime of servitude. No, Gerold didn't need to be bumped up the waiting list. Yes, it was fine for Jonathan to continue helping patients who required immediate care.

  Yes, Simon just wanted the man to wash his freaking hands before each procedure. Yes, the offer of free water was still valid. No, Simon didn't have to go grab it from somewhere else. Yes, the blue glow that he produced water from was unspecified demon magic.

  No, his magic wasn't going to corrupt everyone in the room and turn them into mindless, slavering automatons. Didn't even know Demons could do that.

  It took Simon five seconds to explain his terms and five minutes to reassure Jonathan. The man only went back to doctoring when it was pointed out that some of his patients were currently bleeding to death. He made sure to thoroughly cleanse his hands first, repeatedly glancing over at the transmigrator's Shapeshifted arm, as if seeking approval for every minor action.

  Interestingly enough, none of the Valtian natives in the room – not even the ones waiting on urgent care – appeared to judge the physician for his bowing and scraping. If anything, they seemed relieved that the negotiations hadn't ended in more dead bodies. A couple of them were pretending to be dead bodies, like scared rodents playing possum.

  The only hiccup came when one patient attempted to escape the clinic. She would've gotten farther if she wasn't missing two legs and an eye, but Simon admired her gumption nonetheless. Alas, that kind of behavior couldn't be encouraged, so he was forced to tie her to a bed and barricade the front door with medicine cabinets.

  Best not to alert all of Springwater to the Demon in their midst just yet.

  After that, it was smooth sailing. Jonathan's operations went off without a hitch. Using Identify on the patients confirmed that their probability of infection had decreased significantly.

  Not as much as if there'd been access to Earth-grade disinfectant, but Simon was no miracle worker. His intervention had already saved dozens of lives. He was more than happy with the results.

  For now.

  Because in the back of his mind, that little voice named Responsibility was warning him of the impending...complications.

  The voice gradually loudened under Katarina's persistent, watchful gaze. She hadn't stopped glaring at him for the past forty minutes. It got to the point where he felt compelled to pull her aside so they could speak privately, asking the red-haired woman what was on her mind.

  "Oh, nothing," she remarked, in a tone that indicated he would be a fool for believing her. "I am merely...observing. This entire debacle has been quite informative."

  "How so?"

  Katarina raised an eyebrow that spoke volumes. "For one – I didn't know you possessed such a temper."

  Simon countered her raised eyebrow with two of his own. "I don't have a temper. Sure, I can get emotional sometimes, but no more than anyone else. The actions I took were logical and necessary."

  "Really now? Because that look on your face when you transformed your arm told a different story. If you'd seen it–"

  "How could I have seen what my face looked like? There's no mirrors here."

  Katarina opened her mouth, closed it, scowled, then finally let out a heavy sigh. "...Regardless, I take umbrage with you deeming this course of action 'necessary'. Surely there were other ways? Whatever your intentions are for Springwater Village, revealing your nature in a public setting is bound to cause problems for us."

  Simon gestured at the bucket of washing water, complete with a pile of bloodstained rags beside it. "I think I've made my intentions exceedingly clear."

  "Yes, but that was..." She trailed off, her eyes widening. "Wait. It was true? These people would have died if the physician hadn't cleansed his hands? This wasn't a convoluted scheme to advance inscrutable goals, like moving pieces on a board that only you can see?"

  What in the world are Demons getting up to around here? While his fabricated reputation may have been excellent at making people view him as stronger than he truly was, it also came with them – or at least Katarina – assuming he was some Machiavellian manipulator with foresight bordering on precognition.

  Beneficial in certain circumstances. Not so much when he wanted people to believe he was being sincere.

  "I could assure you that I was telling the truth," Simon began, "but there's no better way to sound like a liar than to profess your own honesty. Instead, I'll simply lay out my reasoning."

  He held up a finger. "First: the possibility of Jonathan fatally infecting people was very real. Would take me too long to explain why, so just chalk it up to Demon magic verifying my suspicions." He held up another finger. "Second: Jonathan already refused my previous offer. If I had done nothing, innocent people would've died."

  Well...potentially innocent. Simon hadn't asked Identify to list out their worst crimes or anything. The Skill was limited in how much information it could provide, and checking if the risk of infection had gone down was a higher priority. For all he knew, every single patient in this room dropkicked puppies for fun and ate babies for supper.

  But it wasn't his place to make those sort of presumptions. Having a well-earned distrust for the inherent goodness of mankind was one thing – declaring that everyone was guilty until proven innocent was another.

  Simon took great care not to step over the thin line between cynicism and misanthropy.

  "And lastly," he continued, holding up a third finger. "Jonathan was unwilling to listen to me. If I hadn't threatened him–"

  "Did it need to be with that, though?" Katarina pointed at his Shapeshifted arm. "A sword could have sufficed."

  "Jonathan would've fought back. Waste of time, and maybe he gets injured in the scuffle." Or maybe I straight-up lose and get exposed as a fraud. The doctor's Estimated Level is higher than my actual Level. "A threat from a Demon, however..."

  He shrugged. "This way cuts out the middleman."

  Katarina groaned. "I dislike that you're making a degree of sense."

  Simon grinned, but his mirth faded as Katarina leaned closer, lowering her voice to a quiet whisper. "I pray that you've thought of what comes next. Because I would prefer not to be slain for associating with Demons." A hint of worry crept into her tone. "You wouldn't have revealed yourself without an appropriate escape plan, right?"

  "Of course," he half-lied.

  In reality, if Jonathan had called Simon's bluff, screamed YOLO to the heavens, ripped off his shirt, and decided to throw hands...things could've gotten dicey.

  Thankfully, the doctor had been adequately cowed. There shouldn't be anymore potholes in the road until Katarina's father received an official diagnosis. Depending on the severity of Gerold's illness, they might need to adjust their plans moving forward.

  Virtually all of those plans would start with some variation of 'rush to the carriage and get the hell out of Springwater'.

  None of them could stay here. Once Simon and Katarina left the clinic with Gerold on their shoulders, word would immediately spread about the new Demon in town.

  If Springwater's people had been gutsy enough to cross swords with a powerful Fell Beast, then they might come for him as well. And unlike the Beast, he doubted he could take on an angry mob of pissed-off townsfolk eager to vent their frustrations on him.

  Simon only hoped that the pace of his feet could outrun the speed of traveling news – or of someone raising a village-wide alarm.

  Would be easier to flee if I left Katarina and Gerold behind, he admitted. While Katarina was decently helpful and slowly warming up to him, an invalid like Gerold was a liability, and the two of them were a package deal. Plus, it's not like I was planning to stick with them forever. I promised her that I'd get her father to a doctor, and I did; nothing more is owed.

  Unfortunately, abandoning them at this juncture would leave a bitter taste in his mouth. Such was the price of having moral standards.

  Speaking of which...

  Heroic Valor, Simon internally called. In case you haven't noticed, I just saved a room full of people from death by infection. Where's the–

  [Take it.]

  A modest sum of Experience flowed into his soul. It brought him most of the way to Level 7, but not quite.

  That's all? Last time your bonus EXP fully raised my Level from 5 to 6.

  [Gave same amount as rescued captives,] the Skill explained. [Higher Levels require more EXP.]

  Doesn't seem proportionate. In the first scenario, I rescued two people. This time, I saved dozens. Think that's deserving of a pay raise, don't you agree?

  Heroic Valor remained silent. Simon flinched as it sent an emotional impression reminiscent of water boiling over a hot stove.

  [You threatened a doctor whose only crimes were ignorance and discourtesy. He was no slaver. He spends his days toiling to heal the injured. And you pressed your claws against his throat.]

  Simon frowned. I wasn't actually going to kill him, even if he never came around. That much should be obvious.

  [Was he aware of that? Aside from you, was *anyone* aware? Jonathan genuinely believed that his life was in grave peril, and his patients genuinely believed that they were about to witness a beloved village physician being disemboweled by a Demon. While the matter may have resolved peacefully – which was no guarantee – this memory shall plague their nightmares for years to follow.]

  It seemed to stare coldly at him. [You were given precisely as much EXP as deserved.]

  I'm hearing lots of criticism, but very little of it is constructive. He let irritation seep through into his thoughts. Do you think there was a better way to convince Jonathan? At least in a manner that ensured the health and safety of his patients.

  [With your insufficient charisma? No. Someone like yourself is much more proficient at threats and deceit than forging sincere connections with others.]

  Simon blinked. That's–

  [Do not contact me until you have good reason.]

  Heroic Valor's presence vanished, leaving Simon alone with his thoughts once again.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  As if by reflex, he turned and used Identify on one of the patched-up patients. His growing unease diminished when he read the line 'Probability of infection has decreased significantly.' He then assessed several more patients, finding identical lines of encouragement in all of their Descriptions.

  I was correct to do what I did, he told himself. Maybe a silver-tongued devil could've settled things without threats of violence, but a black-scaled Demon beats the alternative of doing nothing. It's not a sin to be imperfect. Heroic Valor was in the wrong for chewing me out so harshly.

  His turmoil should have ended there. Over the years, Simon had been denigrated by no small number of people, some of them utilizing insults far more cutting and accurate than Heroic Valor's brief outburst. Their barbs had never stuck to him for long. He always bounced back quickly,

  So the transmigrator was immensely frustrated when, ten minutes later, he found himself still replaying their conversation in his mind.

  Was it because of the Skill's method of communication? Emotional pulses were definitely more impactful than mere spoken words. Or perhaps – as an aspect of the gods' system – its rebuke held disproportionate weight?

  But...no. None of those theories felt right to him.

  What about Heroic Valor was so uniquely disconcerting?

  Luckily, he was rescued from any further emotional turmoil by the front door barricade exploding.

  The incursion happened without warning. One moment Simon was knee-deep in introspection, and the next, debris had been sent scattering across the room like a localized storm of wood chips. He hastily covered his eyes as people screamed, Katarina rushing over to Gerold's bedside.

  Before the dust had even started dissipating, a group of five warriors hurried into the now-open entrance. Their sharpened blades and padded leather armor marked them as a cut above your average citizen off the street. The warrior militia swiftly formed a line, each gaze sweeping the room until they'd all located Simon and his Shapeshifted demon arm.

  A woman at the head of their formation stepped forward. "You," she hissed, her tone so acidic that it could've eaten through metal. The leader raised her sword, pointing it directly at his neck.

  As if he'd needed confirmation that they were here for him.

  In truth, Simon was more confused than concerned. How did people outside the clinic learn what was going on inside? I made sure to keep Jonathan and his patients from leaving to sound the alarm.

  Then again, there was still too much about Valtia that was unknown to him. Could've been telepathic communication, or a hidden Artifact, or an invisible panic button, or any number of things. This was a world of magic and fantasy – he couldn't possibly account for every variable. Not when he was largely operating off of secondhand information gleaned from a smattering of random conversations.

  It had only been a matter of time before his lack of knowledge cost him.

  Identify. A glance informed him that the militia group's leader was Level 11 and out for Demon blood. No surprises there. Even if she'd come alone, fighting his way to safety would've been a tall order. He highly doubted that she would be willing to negotiate terms of surrender, either.

  Combat, diplomacy, running...all dead ends. Simon felt intangible walls closing in on him. There are no viable options. Unlike with Kirkelas or the slavers, I didn't come prepared for this.

  Adrenaline surged through his veins as a smile pushed itself onto his face. Which means this should be a good test of my improvisation skills. If I can't handle a single ambush where I'm outnumbered and outgunned, then I would've never made it very far in Valtia anyway.

  I haven't lost until my heart stops beating.

  "Good day," Simon greeted, waving his Shapeshifted arm. Wasn't like there was any point in hiding it. Better to project an air of confidence. "While I understand your fervor, would you mind settling down? Jonathan here is in the middle of some sensitive medical procedures. Interrupting him might jeopardize–"

  "SILENCE!" With her free hand, the warrior leader reached into her pocket and pulled out a small white object. It was shaped like an eight-sided crystal, emitting a soft, radiant glow akin to the Sanctuary Tree and Warding Orbs. "I did not come here to hear your twisted words, Demon! I came here to enact vengeance!"

  He paused. "Vengeance for what? I just got here an hour ago."

  The legitimate curiosity in his voice only seemed to stoke the fires of her rage. "PERISH, FELLSPAWN!"

  Light nearly blinded Simon as the eight-sided crystal shone with sudden brilliance. Mana coalesced inside what was assuredly an Artifact, gathering energy into a visible core. It was like when Relia had charged her fireball spell, or when Simon commanded Kill to form. If pattern holds, attack brewing, need to verify. Ident–

  The core of light burst forth.

  There was no time. No time to use Identify, no time to retaliate – barely even any time to think. His next move would be driven almost entirely by instinct.

  And so Simon stood his ground, angling himself so that his left side was facing front. He made no attempt to dodge whatsoever, only feeling impelled to protect his right arm. The primal urge to flee never materialized.

  Perhaps his standards were skewed from meeting the Sealed Demon of Ruination in his first week, but as dramatic as the Artifact's light show had been...it simply didn't worry him.

  Dazzling radiance crashed forward. His left side took the brunt of the assault, its warm glow enveloping him like a layer of heated saran wrap. Simon felt a faint tingling in his Shapeshifted arm.

  Then the light vanished.

  It was so anticlimactic that he needed a second to realize that the attack had already ended.

  With a befuddled gaze, Simon glanced down at his left human arm. Tiny patches of clothing were burnt away, revealing slightly reddened skin underneath, as if he'd been out in the sun for a bit too long. It hurt...maybe? A little?

  HP: 86 / 90

  Yeah. 'A little' sounded about right.

  "You certainly have a penchant for theatrics," Simon remarked. "The effectiveness leaves something to be desired, though." He lifted his gaze back up–

  And found five astonished faces staring back at him. Where there had once been a group of battle-ready, gung-ho militia warriors, he now saw people who looked lost and adrift. The squad was gazing at their Artifact with forlorn expressions, the crystal's effervescent glow having faded to a dull, subdued off-white.

  It was like they'd prepared an extensive script in their minds for how this encounter would play out, and Simon had derailed it halfway through Page 1.

  Theory time. What went awry? He took a few seconds to think, as the warriors were graciously offering him plenty. None of them had stirred, their brains still in the process of rebooting. They plainly expected the Artifact to accomplish more than a mild sunburn. Because...

  It had been filled with sacred mana. Warding Orbs and Sanctuary Trees passively deterred Fell creatures. The warriors' Artifact seemed to be a tool designed for offensive maneuvers. If the Orbs and Trees were shields, then this was a holy blade – one meant to pierce straight through a Demon's heart.

  But Simon wasn't a full Demon. In fact, if he hadn't been Fell-Touched, the Artifact likely wouldn't have affected him at all. Might've been different if his Shapeshifted arm took a direct hit, but it hadn't, and the rest of his body was much less susceptible.

  He understood that. The warriors didn't. What they had seen was a monster shrugging off an attack specifically designed to kill it.

  'How powerful must this Demon be?' they would be wondering. 'What can we possibly do to a being of such unfathomable strength?'

  Simon cast Identify on the Artifact. The Skill validated his hypothesis, even pointing out that the eight-sided crystal was now bereft of sacred mana. It would be years before it had absorbed enough ambient energy to unleash another Fell-slaying blast.

  Their holy blade is rusted.

  Simon's lips twitched.

  The transmigrator stepped forward. The militia leader stepped back.

  His lips twitched again.

  Unable to help himself, laughter started bubbling up from the pit of his soul. It began as a light chuckle, then escalated, rising and loudening until his joy was echoing around every corner of the room. The warriors' faces all went white as sheets, their limbs trembling with fear, and Simon laughed even harder.

  How could he not? The same thing that drove the militia to attack him – their presumption of him being a Demon – was the same thing shattering their will to fight. It went beyond mere irony, treading into the realm of a farce.

  I love Valtia. This world never ceases to surprise me.

  "So that was it?" Simon managed to say, once his laughter had subsided. "A shiny bauble fails, and that's all it takes for your resolve to crumble?"

  The leader sputtered. She shut her mouth again when Simon took one more step forward.

  "Surely you have a backup plan. Or the wits to improvise when the chips are down. Something."

  Silence.

  "Unbelievable." The transmigrator shook his head. "I would ask why Springwater isn't sending their best, but I'm guessing its 'best' are the people laying in cots behind me. Brave men and women who stood up to a rogue Fell Beast despite knowing the risks. They have more spine than you ever will – and that includes the ones whose spines are literally broken."

  He took his final step forward. "Now leave. Before I stop feeling amused and start feeling annoyed."

  There still weren't any mirrors in Jonathan's clinic. Simon couldn't tell exactly what his expression looked like in that moment.

  But whatever the warriors saw, it sent them running.

  Smiling brightly, he turned to face the rest of his audience. Jonathan and the patients – the conscious ones, at any rate – were goggling at him with varying mixtures of terror, distress, and awe. Katarina's gaze was more measured and analytical, regarding him carefully like a puzzle yet to be solved.

  "One of you contacted the outside." Simon's grin widened. "I don't mind. Feel free to inform them that I'm here. When someone of importance is ready to have a civilized discussion, I'll be waiting."

  He turned back around, striding away with a nonchalant gait. "And Katarina? Help me move another cabinet. We seem to be lacking a front door now, and I'd like to avoid letting a chill draft inside."

  One last chuckle escaped him. "This is a place of rest and healing, after all."