Since I planned on telling him my story, I naturally had to start with my first incarnation. Back then, I was reincarnated in a lonely house in the middle of nowhere, on the outskirts of Meley, at the edge of a once-common route connecting the city and Clixburg. I was the daughter of a woman who had terrible luck with men, or perhaps it was just that her taste in men leaned towards deadbeats. Anyway, that life in that first incarnation of mine was cut short when knights, claiming to be an envoy of some noble I had never heard of, came to conscript me into their ranks, as they had somehow learned that I was a Verdenkind and they were in dire need for Verdenkind in their ranks. That encounter ended tragically because my not-so-smart mother couldn't bring herself to just let me go.

  In my second incarnation, I was born as the daughter of a kind farmer couple in the far northern corner of the land of men. Unable to accept wasting 15 years of effort like I did in my previous, I left the house as soon as I could to recover my losses, only to be cornered by bandits who had begun to overrun the region I once knew so well. To save my dignity, I had to make the only available choice which brought me to my third incarnation. I told him about these unfortunate events, omitting irrelevant details but trying to be as concise as possible.

  I recounted how I ended up for the fourth time, fifth time, sixth time and lastly seventh time reincarnating into Fiendfell as Faye, the latest granddaughter of the same family responsible for the 60-year setback I had to endure. The Wei? were the family the knights that came to that house conscripting me came on the behalf of, and for 14 years, I had to share a house, food, and blood with those people. I had to admit dreaming of their complete extermination, having learned why I had to die, because they couldn't let go of their title and were stacking their ranks for a fight to keep their throne, which they eventually relinquished anyway.

  Despite losing their royal title, the family still dreamt of reclaiming it, and they saw me as their best chance. The ironic thing is that it was their belief and investment in that belief that allowed me to escape, change my name to one I liked much better, and journey out on my own for a little over nine months.

  I told him how I first arrived at Gork Village to rest for a night, how my horse was killed, and how I had to acquire a new one from the bandits who killed it. I then met the handler, traveled to Wexlow, then to Eimbridge, and finally to Auroravia, passing through the Yelling Peaks mountain ranges. How I had to deal with the pass’s monsters, dungeon spawns, and bandits along the way. Bandits which by the way I began actively hunting at that point.

  I recounted everything from then to my arrival here in Miriandelle.

  Dungeon Master 07 leaned back in his chair, massaging and pinching the bridge of his nose as if warding off a migraine. "I had a feeling you were the lunatic the Faith reported to me about when you mentioned having gone out of town for several days."

  "Oh, the local Faith knows about what I did?"

  "Of course they do, after that massacre!"

  Massacre, huh? Pretty big words for just several dead bandits, I thought, but seeing the reaction this elicited in Dungeon Master 07, I didn’t voice that thought and simply nodded. "I see."

  However, this didn’t improve the situation. Dungeon Master 07, still annoyed, fought to keep his cool, making the air around us tenser than ever. "What an idea to not even bother to hide the bodies. Do you have the slightest idea of what you’ve done by leaving that legion of corpses behind?"

  "I think I do, but I feel like you think I don’t," I replied. "Besides, hiding the corpses of an entire village, be it by burning them or burying them, would’ve taken days and slowed my journey by months."

  At the beginning of my journey, I went through the trouble of hiding bodies, but then quickly realized it was too much of a task. After raiding a bandit settlement, the best thing to do was bail out immediately after collecting the loot. I tried outsourcing the task to a couple of bandits I spared for that purpose, but that never ended well. They somehow could tell I was gonna waste them too once they were done burying their friend. In the end, I settled on just leaving the corpses behind, making sure to just never leave any witnesses.

  Dungeon Master 07 pinched the bridge of his nose even harder. "Did you really have to attack every damn bandit settlement you stumbled upon and even go to the lengths you did with most of them?"

  "No," I answered tersely before promptly adding, "but as I said, I did it to harvest memories for my Legacy of Agony ability."

  Dungeon Master 07 stared at me, sizing me up. It was clear he was doubtful of my words, as per his next statement. "Are you sure that’s the only reason?"

  Defiance flashed in my eyes and colored my words. "What other reason could there be?"

  Unphased, Dungeon Master 07 responded, "I don’t know. You tell me."

  For us, Dungeon Masters, while it was never explicitly mentioned, it was a tacitly agreed-upon fact that there was one thing to avoid to prevent ending up like our fellow incarnates who had turned their back on the right path or worse betray that path. We agreed to never give in to the desire for revenge. This was not because we believed revenge was inherently bad or anything. In fact, we thought revenge was a way to balance things out, though it can be argued that rarely does it actually balance things out.

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  Anyway the only reason we were to avoid revenge was because we had seen what it did to the previous wielder of Greed and Resurgence. The thirst for revenge drove that man into lunacy, leading him to use his authority recklessly and repeatedly throw himself to certain death, just to what? Avenging your "friends"?!

  The thought of ending up like him was harrowing. Realizing what needed to be done to avoid such a fate, we understood that giving in to revenge was one of two steps toward insanity and ultimately treason.

  The second step to such insanity and treason was attachment, particularly attachment to a native of this world. We had seen it happen twice: once with the same man who sought revenge due to his attachment to a woman and friends he met in this world, and once with Jason, who was infatuated with the Seraphim of Love.

  From the very beginning, from the moment we heard of the title of the god we were to dedicate ourselves to, the Outer God of Corruption, we understood that the god to whom we owed our salvation was not an all-loving one.

  It was an obvious fact that her unsealing, which was our mission and that of everyone who had been granted salvation from that hellish place and handed an authority before being reincarnated into this world, would most likely lead to the end of this world. Attachment to someone or something in this world was bound to interfere with this mission. So, along with giving in to revenge, it became one of our taboos.

  I stared at him, feeling the weight of his suspicion. "I understand, Dungeon Master 07. You think I've broken one of our two taboos: giving in to revenge. You believe I killed all those bandits because of what they once did to me."

  I took a deep breath, pushing my hair back as I sighed heavily. "But you need to understand, I didn't do it for that reason. I haven't forgotten my vow, which is why I didn't even consider revenge when I was reincarnated into this family I've genuinely blamed for all those wasted years. I only killed them to get stronger. And strength is something we absolutely need to survive in Fiendfell."

  A moment went by, Dungeon Master 07 sighed, then said, "At least the Faith doesn't know what you look like." He poured himself a cupful of the drink he'd avoided all night. "For some reason, they think that the lunatic responsible for this massacre is a man. You wouldn't know why, would you?"

  I shook my head.

  "I see. So long as they don't kn—" He began only to stopped mid-sentence, then asked, "Just to confirm, you haven't unlocked the Kinslayer title, right?"

  Slayer-type titles are skills granted when the wielder has killed a large number of a particular "type" of being. There's no set number for how many kills can grant you the title, so it can range from one to easily thousands.

  Kinslayer is a title obtained when the killing is against one's own kin—in my case, other humans. From what I've read, the title is particularly easy to unlock, or to be exact, contract, compared to others, like for animalistic monsters. It's surmised that this is due to the presence of what we call a conscience, though it’s not known for sure.

  I chuckled amusingly. "As surprising as it might sound, no, I don't have that title—yet."

  Dungeon Master 07 heaved a relieved sigh. "Great, that'll save us from a lot of needless trouble."

  I intended to ask, "How so," when suddenly a yawn escaped.

  Having talked for so long, it was already deep into the night. Dungeon Master 07 noticed and proposed, "Let's end it here for tonight."

  "I’m not that sleepy," I protested.

  "We can talk more tomorrow," he reassured. "It's not like we're parting ways today. We have all the time now."

  I nodded, accepting his suggestion. As I stood up, he added teasingly, "This old man is tired; he won't escort you to the door."

  "Hmph," I sneered, replying in kind. "This young lady knows her way out."

  I considered saying goodnight, but it somehow felt weird. With just a motion of the head, which he replied to in kind, I left Dungeon Master 07's room, closing the door behind me.

  As I walked to my room, I felt two opposing emotions battling within me. On one hand, I finally had someone to talk to about my experiences, someone who could understand me to a certain extent. On the other hand, this same person, Dungeon Master 07, was now suspicious of the motive of my action, as proven by our earlier conversation.

  Still mulling over these thoughts, I reached my doorstep. It was then that something caught my eye. Diagonally across from where I stood, emerging from the staircase leading up from the lobby, was Sophina, the youngest of the three sisters, the girl who had been holding the sign at the entrance. Following behind her, in a manner that reminded me of my own arrival at this establishment, were two guests. They had been what caught my attention in the corner of my eye. They were about to be shown their room, which turned out to be the one right next to the staircase they had just climbed.

  There were two things that made me notice them. First, their attire was conspicuous. They were dressed in cloaks with hoods fully on, hiding most of their features. From their silhouettes, I could tell that one of them was a tall, muscular man, while the other, shorter figure could have been a young boy or girl, I couldn't tell for sure. The second thing that caught my attention was what I could infer about them, or rather, what I couldn't.

  Neither of them were peons, especially not the tall man. He was either a Verdenkind or a Highbreed. As for the smaller figure, I sensed that they were not a peon either, but there was something elusive about them. Something that made me confused, confused and unable to just accept that they were just either a Verdenkind or a Highbreed like I did with the taller hooded silhouette.

  In the midst of my confusion and growing curiosity, the tall man suddenly turned in my direction, as if sensing my scrutiny. But I, who had been watching from the corner of my eye, thanks to my Eagle Eyes skill granting me quite an expansive view, simply proceeded to open the door to my room, enter, and close it behind me.

  Inside, I wondered, "What was that?" I was curious, but once again, despite myself, a yawn escaped, making my eyes watery.

  "Man, it's a good thing I decided to stop using hoods in town. That thing really makes you stand out like a sore thumb."

  Throwing myself onto my bed, I allowed slumber to claim me. That night, I had that dream again.