I had imagined a lot of things about my first adventure.
A dramatic entrance. A pile of defeated enemies. Maybe a beautiful woman throwing herself into my arms while calling me her hero.
A ten-year-old boy offering to starve himself so I would take his sister home wasn't on the list.
That one had caught me right in the chest.
Milo had explained how little they would eat like he was negotiating the price of a used wagon. No tears. No tantrum. Just a kid trying to make himself cheap enough to keep.
I'd met men who deserved every bullet I ever put into them.
Those slavers had earned theirs twice over.
Now Milo sat beside his sleeping sister in the wagon, holding her hand while Mara helped the other prisoners get ready to leave. Every few seconds he glanced toward me, checking that I hadn't disappeared.
I made sure I stayed where he could see me.
"All right, system," I thought. "Let's see what all this cost."
A translucent screen appeared.
Level 4 (86/400)
HP- 20/20
MP- 4/40
Strength- 5
Willpower- 8
Agility- 5
Stamina- 5
Intelligence- 6
Luck- 5
Unused Stat Points- 6
Magic Gun {Level 2}(1.71%)
Minor Healing {Level 1}(0.06%)
Limitless Growth {Level MAX}
Four mana.
Well, that explained why my skull felt like somebody had packed it with wet wool.
I'd spent my ammunition budget healing Lottie, and I would happily do it again, but being nearly empty in the middle of a forest wasn't ideal.
"System, why haven't my health and mana increased with my levels?"
"So getting stronger doesn't automatically make me harder to kill."
That sounded like something Veronica would enjoy telling me while throwing rocks at my head.
I studied the six unused points.
"What increases my mana?"
Useful information. Probably something I should have asked before running away from home to invade a slave camp, but hindsight has always been an annoying little bastard.
"Two points into Intelligence, two into Stamina, and two into Willpower."
Warmth spread through my chest. The ache behind my eyes eased slightly, and my legs felt less like I'd spent the afternoon carrying sandbags uphill.
HP- 40/40
MP- 4/60
Stamina- 7
Willpower- 10
Intelligence- 8
Unused Stat Points- 0
My mana capacity increased.
My actual mana did not.
Of course it didn't.
"Couldn't give me a complimentary refill?"
Worth asking.
I dismissed the screen and looked at the weapon resting across my knees.
Its transformation during the rescue had been brief enough that I hadn't properly appreciated it. Saving a six-year-old had taken priority over drooling on my new hardware.
Barely.
"All right, sweetheart. Your turn."
The rifle was shorter than my original M16, with an adjustable stock and a compact sight mounted above the receiver. Familiar enough to feel comfortable, different enough to make my fingers itch.
But a shorter barrel and a sight weren't much of a magical upgrade.
"System. Full skill description."
I read it twice.
Then I grinned.
"Oh, you beautiful thing."
Half a mana per standard shot meant twice as much shooting for the same energy. That alone would have made me happy.
The rest sounded downright indecent.
"Explain variable output."
"So no guaranteed harmless setting."
Good. I didn't need a magical lie telling me shooting somebody gently was always safe.
"And the reservoir?"
A spare magazine.
Not literally, but close enough to make an old infantryman emotional.
I turned the weapon over. A narrow blue strip ran along the magazine well, currently dark.
"You're telling me I can put mana into this before a fight and still have my personal supply available for healing?"
Now that was an upgrade.
I wasn't about to waste the last of my mana testing it, but as soon as I had time to recover, that reservoir was getting filled.
Twice the efficiency, adjustable output, and an emergency reserve.
I kissed the stock.
"Sir?"
Mara stood beside the wagon.
I lowered the rifle.
"Routine maintenance."
She looked at the stock, then at me.
"Of course."
A wonderfully diplomatic woman.
Getting everyone moving took longer than clearing the camp.
That is something adventure stories tend to skip.
Nobody writes five exciting pages about finding wagon harnesses that haven't rotted, distributing drinking water, and convincing frightened people that the dead men aren't getting back up.
We found the courier locked in a cage behind the largest tent.
He was alive, bruised, and extremely concerned about a wooden chest he'd been entrusted with.
I showed him my father's seal.
He nearly cried with relief.
Then I told him who I was.
After that, he looked like he might cry for entirely different reasons.
We collected Dantalion on the way back to the road. He greeted me by shoving his nose into my chest as though deeply offended that I'd attended an adventure without him.
"Trust me, buddy. You missed paperwork."
Milo watched me rub the horse's forehead.
"Is he yours?"
"Yep."
"He's big."
"He knows."
For the first time, Milo almost smiled.
I counted that as another victory.
We met my father's riders before reaching the next town.
Veronica was at their head.
Naturally.
She took one look at me, the wagons, and the exhausted people inside them.
Then she smiled.
I would have preferred another ambush.
"Darien."
Full name. Calm voice.
Absolutely fucked.
"I can explain."
"You will."
"There were slavers."
"I can see that."
"And prisoners."
"Yes."
"And technically I found the courier."
Her eyes closed.
One of the riders coughed into his fist.
Fortunately, Lottie chose that moment to stir, and Veronica's attention shifted immediately.
She climbed onto the wagon, examined the bandage, and listened while I explained the healing skill.
Then she ordered a rider ahead for a healer.
No insults. No shouting.
Just quick, precise instructions.
I liked that side of her.
I wasn't stupid enough to mention it.
By the time I stood in my father's study, Lottie was upstairs with a proper healer, Milo was eating soup in the kitchen, and my mother had hugged me hard enough to threaten my newly improved health pool.
My father hadn't hugged me yet.
He stood behind his desk with both hands resting on the wood.
"You left without an escort."
"Yes, sir."
"You told no one."
"Yes, sir."
"You engaged an unknown number of armed men."
"They engaged me first."
His expression did not improve.
"Not helping," I admitted.
He exhaled through his nose.
"The people you rescued are being housed and fed. The courier has given his account. Riders are securing the camp."
"Thank you."
"You did a brave thing."
I straightened slightly.
"You also did several exceptionally foolish things."
There it was.
"I know."
"I don't think you do. But you will have ample opportunity to reflect while confined to the estate."
I nodded. Fair enough.
He came around the desk and put a hand on my shoulder.
Then he pulled me into a hug.
For a moment, neither of us said anything.
When he stepped back, I cleared my throat.
"There's something else."
His eyebrow rose.
"Milo and Lottie. They don't have anywhere to go."
"Your mother has already told me."
Of course she had.
"He asked to come with me. Offered to work."
My father's expression softened.
"He's ten, Darien."
"I know. I don't mean wages instead of looking after him. I mean somewhere he belongs. Lessons, meals, a bed. Maybe helping in the stables if he wants."
"And his sister?"
"She's six. Something small when she's well. Folding napkins with the housekeeper. Not scrubbing floors all day."
He considered me.
"You're asking for a home, not merely employment."
"Yes, sir."
"Then ask for that."
I swallowed.
"Can they stay?"
"Yes."
The answer came so simply that I almost missed it.
"Milo may assist the stablemaster around his lessons. Lottie can help the housekeeper when she is recovered and old enough. Neither will work to earn their meals."
"Thank you, Dad."
He squeezed my shoulder.
"And Darien?"
"Yes?"
"Next time you decide to expand my household, take a guard."