Tyler stepped back into Pilton Hays, the chill of the early morning fading away slowly, just like the several cuts and bruises he'd received from Seshka earlier. Tyler marvelled as the time he approached the first house the graze on his left arm had physically healed. One thing he had to note — the human body under the system had incredible healing capabilities. Just how far did this go?

  The air felt cleaner inside the fence, like the town had its own little pocket of calm carved out of the forest. It had a quiet about the place, still and present, like the animals of the forest were also told to stay away. There were other sounds, of course, not screaming or fighting, nor the sickly crunch of something dying, but work — good, honest work.

  A saw rasping through wood. A soft, steady tapping like someone knocking sense into the universe one gentle hit at a time. The faint hiss of steam from somewhere deeper in town. A laugh — short, surprised, like someone had been caught off guard and revelled in the fact.

  Tyler walked slower than he needed to, letting his eyes drift over the place. This was the first time he really had a chance to see the town in its natural state. A chance to see what the day-to-day life is of Pilton Hays.

  Doors were left open as people went about their business, moving about casually with no fear of an ambush. Nobody clutched a weapon like it was a second heartbeat. After the last few days, this should have felt wrong to Tyler, but it didn't, not fully anyway.

  Newen a small, Jarven he had meet last night walked past, pot piled high in her hands making almost impossible to see where she was going. Like a child trying to carry something built for an adult, a child, Tyler's thoughts turned to the previous day.

  He could still feel yesterday in his bones — spiders, webbing, panic, the moment he’d raised his weapon against something small and terrified and almost became someone he didn’t recognise. But here, the town was normal… well, in a weird way, but also not.

  He passed a tree trunk laid across two trestles. Hipson was working the wood like she did the other day, her bark-like skin darker than he remembered. Was it the morning sunshine or something else? A faint shimmer pulsed under her fingers as the log underneath took a different form. Mana, Tyler realised. Not the same as his — this was more controlled, precise, with a yellowing hue to it. The wood smoothed as if it wanted to behave for her.

  Tyler doubted he'd ever be able to do something as skilled and delicate as Hipson did with her mana. Was this due to the nature of her mana, a profession skill, or something else? These were the questions Tyler wanted to know. Could he, like Hipson, carve another path without violence?

  A little further on, Braber was shaping clay, his hands moving with careful confidence, as mana tinged with a red light encompassed the clay. Through the haze of the mana, a pot started to form, not because Braber was shaping it, but more because the clay listened to the mana, followed the guidance given. Tyler felt a tug in his chest at that. It was hard to explain, but he understood it anyway.

  He could feel mana here.

  Not like it was shouting, not like it was leaking out of people in angry waves. It was threaded through the air. Different flavours of it too, if that even made sense. Warmth near the cooking places. A crisp sharpness near the herb gardens. A dense, heavy pressure near the bigger buildings, like it had always been there and now he could feel it.

  Why hadn’t he noticed that before? Then again, maybe he hadn't been able to. Maybe he needed the system, or for his core to evolve. Was there always mana, even back on Earth before the arrival of the system, and he just couldn't detect it before? It was possible.

  Tyler slowed, letting his new core sit in his chest like a quiet engine. The mana around him felt readable. Like his body had been tuned, and now the world had turned the volume up.

  He exhaled through his nose, letting his senses reach out, absorbing everything he could, a content smile forming on his face, but it quickly faded as he thought about Seshka.

  About the way she’d looked at him after he’d dropped her on her back. Shocked. Angry. Confused. Like the world had shifted under her feet and she didn’t like it. He should have been thinking about leaving, finishing this event and getting back to the people he cared about.

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  But he couldn’t stop thinking about the spider from yesterday. Not the larger one, the distressed mother who had offered her life without hesitation, but the child. The way its legs had curled when he’d struck it. The way he’d nearly followed through. Nearly finished it. Nearly taken the easy path the system seemed to lay out like a trail of breadcrumbs made from blood.

  A pang of shame hit him in his gut as a cold spread across him, even though the sun shone and there was no breeze in the air. Maybe this — Pilton Hays — wasn’t random. He stopped walking as he thought. Had the system decided to show him something else?

  Not as a reward or kindness. The system didn't feel like it cared about that sort of stuff, but more like a test. You didn’t kill that child. Fine. Here. Try living another way. See if you mean it.

  Tyler shook his head to clear his thoughts and let his gaze drift toward a narrow building on the far side of the street — taller than most of the others, not as grand as the central hall, but still impressive in this little town. The timber there was darker, more solid, a hardwood of some type Tyler guessed. The door stood tall as well, slightly crooked and well worn, like it had been used many times before.

  Standing near it was Magda, covered in half shadows created by the nearby buildings. He looked about as if checking for something.

  The demon looked like he didn’t belong in a place like this. Not because he wasn’t human — there were plenty of people here that were definitely not human — but because of presence. He was tall, easily a head above everyone else nearby, his shoulders broad enough that the doorway looked offended at the idea of letting him through. His skin was a deep, dark red, like old brick after rain, and there were faint lines across it — scars or natural ridges, Tyler couldn’t tell. Horns swept back from his head, not cartoonish, not ridiculous, but real. Heavy. The kind of horns that would crack bone if he turned too fast in a crowded room.

  What struck Tyler as strange was the way he was dressed. He imagined a demon in some type of armour, leather black and studded, but here Magda wore simple clothes. Thick trousers that were a little too short, a dark shirt that was ripped along the arms, letting the demon’s muscles breathe as he moved them about.

  He had a worn leather apron tied around his waist like some of the other craftsmen, but nothing hung out of the pockets here. His hands were big, clawed at the fingertips, but the claws were trimmed. Clean. Like he took pride in not being an animal about it.

  Magda walked to the door, placed his hand on the handle and paused, glancing over his shoulder one last time, checking the street behind him, then slipped inside.

  Tyler realised he’d been standing there staring for too long. With his thoughts of the events from yesterday and then watching the demon, he'd been stood like a statue for the past few minutes. He started walking.

  He felt like he was drifting, being pulled by curiosity as he headed for the large house the demon had just entered. He had a nagging feeling that something felt unfinished, unsettled.

  The way the demon had kept avoiding him, as if he had the plague and the demon wanted nothing to do with it. Then there was the way the demon had looked at him. Tyler wasn't sure if he could accurately read demonic facial expressions, but that look — it was not nothing.

  Tyler stopped outside the building. Up close, he could smell something odd through the seams in the door. It wasn't rot, or the smell of the forest, but something sharp and familiar. Like old paper, burnt metal, something sterile. It reminded him of his lab.

  He raised his hand, hesitated for a moment as he gathered his thoughts, and knocked on the door. For a moment nothing happened. Tyler took a step back, checking that he had selected the right building and not knocked on some other random door.

  Just as he confirmed he did have the right house, the latch clicked and the door opened a crack. Magda's large face appeared in the gap, his eyes widening when he saw Tyler, the big demon taking an involuntary step back.

  It had only been fleeting, but Tyler had noticed it — a flash of something sharp: fear, surprise, instinct. The door jerked as if Magda was about to slam it shut, but he stopped himself at the last moment, swallowed hard, then tightened his jaw.

  “…Human,” Magda said. His voice was quieter than Tyler expected. Not a growl. Not a roar, but controlled, almost eloquent.

  Tyler blinked, taken aback for a moment. “Yeah. I suppose I am, but people generally call me Tyler.”

  The demon opened the door a little more. He didn’t step out. Didn’t invite Tyler in. Just stood there like the doorway was a line he wasn’t sure he should cross.

  “I… apologise,” Magda said, the words coming out stiff, like he’d learned them from a book. “I thought myself better than this, but fear is not that easily overcome.” His trimmed talons on his fingers digging into his palms as if he was battling against something unseen.

  Tyler raised an eyebrow. “Fear? I am not sure I understand. Are you saying you are afraid of me?”

  Magda’s nostrils flared, a slow breath in, slow breath out.

  “Yes.”

  Tyler wasn’t sure what to say, did this monster of a being, standing several feet taller, arms as big of his legs really be freighted of him. Shouldn’t it be the other way around.