With Hessien’s safety confirmed, I let out a deep sigh of relief. However, there was just one tiny issue: she wanted to train us now—right after an intense emotional and physical battle with this world’s equivalent of Earth's angry failed painter.

  She was going to end up slicing off our arms by accident.

  I coughed into my fist. “Um… before we start, do you want to talk about your feelings? Maybe get some of that steam out?”

  Vacinay nodded eagerly. “Yeah, yeah! Training sounds great and all, but I think we need a minute to cool off. Maybe share a fun fact or two?”

  We exchanged nervous glances and a silent agreement that this was probably the best course of action.

  Yamanda crossed her arms, tucking her sword beneath her armpit. That’s when I realized something—she’d been teleporting this whole time, despite the chaotic, negative skill energy swirling around us.

  Why isn’t it affecting her? Eh, I’ll think about that later.

  Right now, we were about to dive into an impromptu therapy session, despite none of us having the slightest idea what that actually looked like. Well… except for Ghomas, but I highly doubted he’d be much help here.

  Yamanda drummed her fingers against her arm, staring at the clouds as she thought.

  Then, finally, she spoke.

  “I don’t see the point in talking about my feelings,” she muttered. “I hate that creature. I want every last one of them dead. Even if that’s impossible, considering how they’re made.”

  Her face twisted in fury. “I am a knight—a damn knight. I spent years training, giving everything to this job, this honor… and for what? My parents’ respect? The title? I’m a knight. No, not just any knight—I’m a presidential knight. I am the sword and shield of the president. That’s what I was born for. But…”

  She stomped the ground so hard that dust flew up.

  “I’m a knight. Do you know what it takes to get here? You discard everything—your name, your family, your identity—and dedicate yourself to the president. He’s supposed to act in the nation’s best interest. My parents didn’t sacrifice everything for this country just for him to throw it all away! Tanya?! That… thing?!” Her voice sharpened with rage. “Even if he had to use an evil manifestation, why couldn’t he have waited for someone to capture a weak one? Why her?”

  Her grip on her sword was so tight, I wondered if her palm was bleeding.

  Vacinay looked like he was searching for something comforting to say.

  “Feels like your whole purpose’s been betrayed, huh?” Ghomas said casually.

  Yamanda turned to him, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she nodded. “Yes… exactly.”

  She exhaled sharply. “My hair—it’s red because all presidential knights dye it upon initiation. It symbolizes leaving the past behind, belonging to a new family. It’s supposed to be an honor.” Her voice wavered with frustration. “But now? It feels disgusting.”

  “I can’t say I fully understand what you’re going through,” Ghomas said quietly, “but… I get it. Betrayal like that never really fades.”

  Yamanda sank to the ground, resting her arms on her knees. “Yeah… that’s exactly it. But whatever. It is what it is…”

  I cleared my throat. “Well… maybe in the next election, the new president will be better? Unless it’s way in the future.”

  Yamanda raised an eyebrow. “We’d have to wait for him to die for that. Unless…” She paused, tilting her head. “Hm. I don’t want to deal with the consequences of killing him.”

  Vacinay stiffened. “Why would we have to wait for him to die?”

  “… Because if elections are held while the president’s still in power, what’s stopping him from just killing his competitors? Or making sure no one else can run?”

  The three of us exchanged glances, the realization sinking in.

  “That bastard might as well be a damn king,” Hessien grumbled.

  “Fascism. Why am I not surprised,” I muttered.

  I think I used that word correctly…

  Politics was never really my thing. I was lucky enough to grow up in a place where I didn’t have to care about it. But… I didn’t have that luxury anymore.

  I wanted to break down and roll around in despair. Figuratively, of course.

  Vacinay, ever the pragmatic one, asked, “So… how many times has someone tried to kill that guy?”

  Yamanda shrugged. “Plenty. But the royal guards are strong. The ones you’ve seen? Just trainees and low-rankers.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “And… if we tried to kill him in the future, you wouldn’t stop us, right?”

  “Unfortunately, I would.”

  Tch.

  She exhaled sharply and pushed herself to her feet. “Alright… let’s train. Don’t worry about holding back. The ground here is reinforced to withstand the full force of the strongest presidential knights—knights capable of leveling entire cities.”

  Leveling cities?! Holy shit!

  And how strong does she think we are? I couldn’t even break a rock with my fist if I tried.

  “I’m only level 10,” I said. “And these guys are all below level 5.”

  She stared at us, her expression darkening. Then, with a long, suffering sigh, she facepalmed. “So you weren’t pretending to be weak… To think I spent all that time at the restaurant sizing you up for nothing.”

  Eh?!

  Vacinay’s eye twitched. “That’s why you made us walk for so long? After seeing you could teleport, I thought you wanted us to explore the city.”

  She covered her mouth with her hand, but I could see the smirk forming. “Ah, yes. I was planning to use that as an excuse.”

  Honestly? I didn’t mind. My cardio was solid, so it wasn’t too bad. In fact, I was kind of tempted to go for a jog just to get a good pump going.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Yamanda's smirk faded as she refocused. “Anyway, you’re all incredibly weak… so we’ll adjust the training. Instead of sparring, we’ll be power leveling you to at least level 15. That should bring your lifting strength up to somewhere between… six to twelve tons, depending on your base stats.”

  My eyes nearly popped out of my skull.

  SIX TO TWELVE TONS?!

  I wasn’t the only one floored by this revelation.

  Hessien immediately dashed forward, standing at attention like a soldier. “Would you like me to carry anything for you on the way to our transformation into beasts of great power?”

  That phrasing sounded so weird to me.

  I hadn’t even tested my limits yet, but at best, I thought I could lift… maybe 800 pounds? And yet, just five more levels would push me into superhuman strength. I’d suspected leveling would be tough, but seeing the kind of power it granted made it all make sense.

  Just what level are you, Yamanda?

  Oh, right—I could check people’s levels.

  Totally forgot about that.

  Yamanda noticed my gaze and met my eyes. “What is it?”

  If asking about someone’s skill is considered rude, then how much more intrusive is checking someone's level? Levels were definitely something some people kept private, and they were probably insecure about them too. After all, people constantly find ways to elevate themselves while putting others down.

  I shook my head. “Nothing.”

  That got me thinking. Levels still felt odd, basically a measurement of skill energy. I’d thought about it briefly when I leveled up after killing the rabbit-man—it was a skill. Which led me to wonder…

  “How do we level up, exactly?” I asked.

  The other three stared at me as if I’d asked if water was wet. But it was a good question!

  Yamanda answered, “Right… you all aren’t from this world. We gain levels by absorbing skill energy. The easiest way is by killing things that contain skill energy.”

  Excuse me, what?

  Hessien’s face twisted in horror. “Wait… you mean like… people?”

  “Not necessarily. Alignment manifestations or broken skills, for example. Like that rabbit-man your cousin killed.”

  I asked, “If someone could shoot fireballs, would using that ability count as a skill break?”

  She shook her head. “No, those are offensive skills. They explode or destroy themselves to cause damage, not stable enough to process.”

  “Wait, so people who use skills that create something or expel energy are constantly… lowering their levels?”

  “Technically. But energy points are the main source for skills. You’d burn through energy points long before you lost even 0.1% of your level.”

  No wonder energy points were so expensive—they were ridiculously efficient.

  Ghomas asked, “So, what exactly are we hunting?”

  Yamanda glanced at Hessien and muttered, “I’d suggest evil manifestations, but they’d definitely react in an annoying way. Plus, you’re all too weak for them. Skill creations are rare, so… we’ll hunt people.”

  “Is that a joke?” I asked, baffled.

  “No,” she replied.

  “Please tell me you're joking.”

  “I’m serious. But we can’t hunt death row criminals.”

  Ah, so she has some kind of moral code—

  She continued, “Some do hunt tribes—”

  All three of us interrupted, “No.”

  How was that even legal?

  “I said some… Fine. We’ll go the Gervmu route. There are a lot of half-mans—people who traded their humanity for limited wishes from the statue of Pasfell, turning into dangerous, cannibalistic monsters.”

  I hated to admit it, but I’d feel more comfortable killing something that didn’t look human.

  I already hated this.

  Of course, I was going to have issues with killing in general, let alone killing beings who still looked remotely human.

  Then a thought struck me: she said “humanity.” I assumed it was just the translator doing its job.

  Vacinay rested her fist on her chest, looking solemn. “Their sacrifices won’t be in vain. Their deaths will further our growth.”

  Hessien nodded. “Preach… Let’s go, miss!”

  “There’s no way you all are serious. Okay, Miss Yamanda, how different do they look from humans?” I asked.

  “It varies,” she replied. “The statue of Pasfell, also called the Well of Change and Transformation, is unpredictable. Someone could wish for wings and get them… along with the unwanted side effect of shrinking to four feet tall and growing disfigured wings all over their body.”

  Okay, that actually sounded a bit better.

  The longer I stayed in this world, the grosser my morals became. But as long as I didn’t think of them as humans, I’d be fine.

  “I’m in,” I said.

  Ghomas rubbed his chin. “But they’re still humans—Flowmans?”

  “Yes,” Yamanda confirmed.

  “But it’s okay to kill them because they look different?” he pressed.

  “Yes. Well, I’m okay with killing whoever, as long as they’re criminals or a sin against our existence.”

  Ghomas looked at me. I avoided his gaze.

  “Isn’t that the same logic people use for genocide back on Earth? ‘Their culture’s different, so they aren’t humans. They look different, so they aren’t humans…’?”

  Vacinay jabbed a finger at him. “Good point. Counterpoint: They’re cannibals and dangerous, according to Yamanda.”

  “Exactly,” I added.

  Ghomas sighed. “Time to become murderers.”

  Hessien said, “Think of it as… saviors of morality.”

  Vacinay nodded. “Exactly. Start dehumanizing the shit out of them so we can kill them easier.”

  We all stared at her.

  She scratched her head, suddenly sheepish. “Okay, maybe that was too far… but honestly, it’s exactly what you’re doing. I’m not using mental gymnastics to justify it.”

  “Shut up,” I muttered, walking toward Yamanda.

  Hessien nodded. “Exactly. Dehumanization is one thing, but joking about it? Nah. Nah! Take this seriously.”

  Vacinay shot him a glare.

  He grinned and wrapped his arms around her, deliberately annoying her.

  Yamanda slid her sword into its scabbard and glanced at us. “You don’t have to be near me for teleportation, you know?”

  I shrugged. “I just figured it would use fewer energy points.”

  She looked surprised before breaking into a small smile. “You’re actually kind of sweet. You remind me a little bit of my nephew.”

  “Merci.”

  Then, suddenly, we were standing on muddy ground, surrounded by a dense jungle. Enormous green and brown roots stretched across the terrain like nature’s tripwires.

  Yamanda pressed her hand to the earth, and an array of weapons and armor materialized before us—spear guns, katanas, broadswords, war hammers, daggers, knives, leather armor, chainmail, even full knight-like suits.

  “Hell yeah,” Hessien grinned.

  Vacinay crouched low and reached for a broadsword that was clearly too heavy for her. With a determined grunt, she managed to lift it and gave it an experimental swing, though it was more of a wobbly flail.

  Ghomas picked up the war hammer. Surprisingly, Hessien grabbed a spear gun.

  While they suited up, I surveyed my options. I liked the idea of having range, but I hated how spear guns looked. My eyes drifted to my hand as I flexed my fingers.

  Knives… yeah, I liked how they felt in my hands.

  The only downside? The armor choices were absolute garbage.

  Leaning toward Yamanda, I whispered, “Is there... nothing more, um, dress-like?”

  If I said that out loud, the others would have laughed me into oblivion, but I really, really liked dresses.

  Yamanda barely suppressed her reaction, her lips curling into a faint frown.

  “No. Those are usually tailor made and mostly worn by the handful of women knights who are obsessed with looking 'elegant' or 'feminine,' as if wearing armor would suddenly make them manly.” She spat the last part with more venom than expected.

  I knew my request was ridiculous, but I couldn’t help it. I hated pants with a burning passion. They just weren't cute or... elegant or feminine enough for me. I needed to look like a motherfucking cutie at all times.

  Anyway.

  Before grabbing my armor, I asked, “Do these have levels or ranks?”

  “Yeah, all of these are one-star. Anything higher would be too heavy or too stressful on your bodies.”

  I nodded and reluctantly pulled on a set of chainmail. I loathed it. It was ugly. It was uncomfortable. But it was free, so I couldn’t really complain.

  I picked up a knife and shot Yamanda a quick thank-you.

  Meanwhile, the others were sparring, but their playful antics screeched to a halt when a heinous, ear-piercing scream tore through the jungle.

  Yamanda turned her head slightly. “One of them showed up.”

  We followed her gaze to see a man—or something vaguely man-shaped—crawling on all fours. Arms sprouted all over his body, twitching and flexing in unnatural ways. His lips twisted into a lecherous grin that stretched past his eyes.

  “I haven’t had a female in so long... Give me... GIVE ME—”

  Before he could finish, Vacinay snatched the spear gun from Hessien and fired. A red beam lanced through his skull.

  A second later, the creature collapsed.

  “Nice shot,” I said. “Should've tortured it a bit first, but not bad.”

  As yellow energy drifted from the corpse into Vacinay, she muttered, “That thought only hit me after I pulled the trigger.”

  I nodded. “I don’t think I’m gonna have any moral dilemmas killing these things.”

  Hessien reclaimed his spear gun from Vacinay and grinned. “So... it’s about to be a massacre?”

  Vacinay and I spoke in unison. “YES.”