Chapter 23 : THE GIFT
Catherine stood in the Haven's main chamber with a bound man at her feet.
The captive was mid-thirties, disheveled, gagged with cloth that muffled his panicked breathing. His eyes tracked between the monsters surrounding him—vampire, werewolf, Skinwalker—with the wild terror of someone who understood exactly how much trouble he was in.
"A gift," Catherine said as I entered. Her smile held edges. "A thank-you for handling our mutual problem."
[DIPLOMATIC ASSESSMENT: TEST IN PROGRESS] [SCENARIO TYPE: CHARACTER EVALUATION] [OPTIONS: ACCEPT (EXPECTED) / REFUSE (WEAKNESS PERCEIVED) / REJECT WITH DISGUST (HYPOCRITICAL)]
I processed the situation in the space between heartbeats.
Catherine wasn't offering a gift. She was administering an exam. Vampires valued ruthlessness—they'd survived by being predators, and they allied with creatures who matched their nature. If I refused the captive, she'd see weakness. If I rejected the gesture with moral objection, she'd see hypocrisy—I'd already demonstrated willingness to kill, and pretending otherwise would damage my credibility.
If I accepted gracefully, I'd pass. Prove I was the kind of ally she wanted.
The calculus was simple. The implications were not.
"Thank you, Catherine." I kept my voice warm. Appreciative. "He'll be useful."
Her eyes gleamed. Satisfaction radiated from her ancient features—I'd responded exactly as she'd hoped.
"I'm glad you appreciate the gesture." She moved toward the exit, her business apparently concluded. "We should discuss expanding our arrangement. I'll send word."
She disappeared into the tunnel system, her presence fading like morning mist.
The captive made muffled sounds behind his gag. Pleading, probably. Begging for mercy from creatures who didn't offer it.
Jenny stood in the corner, watching. Her bond-presence carried complexity—concern, question, something I couldn't quite name.
"Take him to the werewolves," I said. My voice came out flat. Practical. "They need to hunt soon anyway."
She didn't move immediately. Her eyes held mine for a long moment.
"Are you sure?"
"The wolves need live prey for training. He serves a purpose." I turned away. "Waste not."
[COMMAND EXECUTED] [PREDATOR ESSENCE: +5] [DOMINION: +5] [CORRUPTION INDEX: 25 → 28]
Jenny took the captive. I heard his muffled screaming fade as she led him deeper into the tunnel system. By nightfall, there would be nothing left but bones that the ghouls would dispose of efficiently.
I stood alone in the chamber, considering.
I hadn't hesitated. Hadn't felt the need to justify, to rationalize, to find some moral framework that made the decision acceptable. The choice had been pragmatic: pass the test, maintain the alliance, use available resources. The man's terror hadn't factored into my calculation at all.
That should probably concern me.
The thought came and went without weight.
My quarters were quiet. Stone walls that kept the temperature steady. Salvaged furniture that served its purpose. The closest thing to a home I'd had since waking up in Marcus Webb's body two and a half years ago.
I sat on the edge of the bed and counted my breaths.
One. Two. Three.
An old meditation technique from my previous life—the life before transmigration, before the System, before I'd learned that survival required becoming something else entirely. The technique was supposed to center me. Ground me in the present moment. Help me process difficult emotions.
The problem was that there weren't any emotions to process.
I'd just condemned a man to death. Watched Catherine test me with a human sacrifice. Passed by accepting without hesitation. And I felt... nothing. Not guilt. Not satisfaction. Not even the cold satisfaction of a successfully completed strategic maneuver.
Just emptiness where something should have been.
You're becoming what you need to become, the System had told me once, during those early months when I'd still questioned everything. Adaptation is survival.
Maybe this was adaptation. Maybe the conscience I'd carried from my old life was simply incompatible with the creature I needed to be.
Maybe I should be more troubled by how easily I accepted that.
The ceiling didn't judge. The stone walls didn't care. The silence offered no answers.
I lay back and stared at nothing until sleep came.
Catherine's message arrived the next morning.
You're more interesting than I expected, Monster King. Let's discuss expanding our arrangement.
The alliance was real now. Cemented in blood—the captive's blood, technically, but blood nonetheless. Catherine had gotten what she wanted: confirmation that her new ally was as ruthless as circumstances required.
I'd gotten what I needed: a powerful vampire's resources and information network, formally allied with the coalition.
The cost was measured in small deaths. The captive. The eight vampires in Bozeman. The three-hundred-year-old predator I'd executed in a mine two months ago.
What have you become?
The question surfaced, examined itself, and found no satisfactory answer.
I filed the paperwork and moved on.
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