I woke up in the dormitory, stiff and sore. The stone bed frame had been a mistake.

  I probably should have found something soft to cushion it, but I'd been too exhausted to care and had passed out anyway, apparently sleeping through the entire day. I definitely cared now.

  Sunlight streamed through the broken windows when I finally sat up, rubbing my neck. My clothes were still damp and disgusting. Nothing ever dried in this swamp. My hair was a mess. Everything hurt.

  I found the others in what I was now mentally calling the war room—the administrative space on the ground floor without holes in the ceiling. Vasil bravely (or foolishly) sat on a wooden crate that looked like it might collapse at any moment. Phisto was perched on a windowsill, cleaning his paws. Skelly stood in the corner, doing nothing in particular besides looking at the corner for some reason.

  "She lives," Phisto said without looking up.

  "Barely," I muttered, stretching. "How long was I out?"

  "Almost a full day," Vasil said. "Guess you needed it."

  I probably needed another week, but we didn't have that kind of time.

  "Alright," I said, leaning against the wall. "Let's talk. Time to come up with a plan."

  "The plan is simple,” Vasil said from the crate. “You’re already quite strong, so we need to focus on gaining allies. Fast. The Church isn't going to stop sending people after you, and next time they'll send more. Better trained. Better equipped."

  Oh, right. Totally forgot I told him I was level forty-five. I should probably come clean before he starts planning for me to... do whatever it is level forty-fives can do. Fly? Punch holes in mountains? Wrestle a swamp dragon (do those even exist)? I'm incredibly skilled, obviously, but I'm also just one person. A person who's been through a lot, by the way.

  Do I look like I can punch through mountains? I'm delicate, I can't be expected to do everything. What if he expects me to fight a battalion? Alone? When really I'm just a very talented and beautiful level seven who happens to have excellent aim.

  "Yeah, about that."

  "About what?"

  "I, uh, I’m only level seven.”

  Vasil stared at me. "What? There’s no need to play games, Hecate, I’ve seen what you can do. Inquisitors don't go out into the field until they're at least level fifteen. Most are higher. You took them out in seconds. I know you’re not level seven."

  I shrugged. "I was level five when I killed them. I’m level seven now."

  His eyes went wide and he blinked, trying to process this new information that apparently didn't make sense. "You killed two level fifteen plus inquisitors while you were level five?"

  "Well, technically I was level six when I killed the second one."

  "How?"

  I shrugged again. "I pointed my gun at them and pulled the trigger. It’s not like reading a map. Now that’s hard!"

  “So that’s why we keep getting lost,” Phisto said.

  I gave him a moutza (the classic five fingered insult). “Listen here you little shit. I never get lost. I always know exactly where I am. I was just saying that for some people—not for me—reading a map is hard.”

  Vasil put his hands on his head, then brought them down in front of him like he was trying to physically hold the information together. "How is that possible though?"

  "I don’t know, I’ve always had a good sense of direction and—”

  “No,” he interrupted. “How did you manage to kill them?”

  “Oh. I have a skill that bypasses barriers and armor," I said. "Lets my bullets go straight through. Right now I only have enough mana to use it three times in a row though."

  His expression became contemplative. "Three shots."

  "Three shots that actually matter, yeah. I can shoot normally after that, but it won't go through their defenses. At least, not right away."

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  Vasil shook his head slowly. "This changes things. If you're only level seven, you need to prioritize leveling up above everything else. You hunt, you kill, you get stronger."

  I nodded. "Yeah, I figured. That’s why I mentioned it."

  "There's also the matter of making yourself known," Vasil continued. "You need people to hear about you. Fear you. Respect you. Right now, no one knows who you are. We need to change that."

  "Going to be hard doing that while stuck in a swamp," I said.

  Vasil started talking about territory and influence and something about supply routes (I think), but I stopped listening. I watched a fly buzz past the window. It landed on the sill, right next to Phisto, who didn't even seem to notice it. Or maybe he did and he just didn’t care.

  I could shoot the wings off that fly, I thought. Easily. I'd done it a hundred times. But could I make it harder? Could I shoot the hair off a fly's ass?

  Did flies even have hair on their asses?

  I took a slow step closer and narrowed my eyes, trying to see if the fly had an ass hairy enough for me to shoot.

  "Hecate?" Vasil said. "Are you listening?"

  "Huh?"

  "What are you thinking about?" Vasil asked.

  "Just wondering if I could shoot the hair off a fly's ass. That one, specifically."

  Vasil stared at me. "What?"

  "The fly.” I pointed at it. “Could I shoot the hair off its ass? Assuming it has hair."

  "We're discussing your survival, and you're wondering if the fly has a hairy ass?"

  I rolled my eyes. “Well, when you say it like that you make me sound like some kind of weirdo. I was just wondering if my aim is good enough to shoot the hair off a fly's ass, since shooting their wings off is easy now."

  "You’re thinking of shooting the hair off a fly’s ass to see if your aim is good?"

  "Exactly!” I said, spreading my hands. “It would require incredible precision to hit. It's precision training."

  Vasil sighed. “Focus, Hecate.”

  Actually, that gave me an idea.

  I pulled up my skill menu. There had to be something that rewarded precision. Headshots. Weak points. Critical hits. I searched for skills with “head” in the name.

  Ah! Now that looked like a skill that would reward you for headshots!

  [Headhunter]

  Type: Buff

  Some people collect rocks. You collect heads. Your enemies will lose their minds over your collection. Literally.

  Claim the heads of your defeated enemies. Shrink them and bind them to your weapons or gear as totems. Each head grants bonuses based on the strength and nature of the fallen. Maximum amount of totems increases by 1 every 5 levels.

  I stared at the description.

  Okay. That was not what I was expecting. But it was definitely interesting.

  I'd never seen anyone with shrunken heads before. The Sisters had never mentioned anything like this. I'd seen people wear ears as trophies. Teeth. Fingers, sometimes. But heads? Never.

  Was it too taboo? Too extreme? A skill most people didn't want or couldn't stomach? Or maybe it was just one of those rare skills where you had to know where to look to get it?

  Either way, I'd found it. And it could be exactly the kind of flashy Perry had been talking about.

  "Vasil," I said slowly. "Hypothetically speaking, would you consider it flashy if I was covered in the shrunken heads of my enemies?"

  He looked up at me. "Excuse me?"

  "Like, hanging from my belt. Or my guns. Little heads. Shrunken down."

  Vasil was silent for a moment. "That's disturbing."

  "But is it flashy?"

  "It's grotesque."

  "I didn't ask if it was grotesque. I asked if it was flashy."

  He sighed. "Yes. It's flashy. It would certainly send a message."

  "What kind of message?"

  "Usually one of dominance, that you don't just kill your enemies, you claim them. You own them even in death. It's what some warlords do. It tells the world you don't follow their rules, that their taboos mean nothing to you. Anyone who sees you will know there's no redemption, no negotiation. Just power. A reminder of what happens when someone crosses you."

  I put my hands on my hips and gave a nod. "Perfect. That will definitely get people to talk about me and fear me."

  Phisto looked over. "Disgusting."

  I wondered if it really was disgusting. I mean, yeah, a full-sized head would be pretty nasty. But when they were small? Shrunken down to the size of... I don't know, an apple? A grape? They probably wouldn't be that bad. Honestly, they might even be kind of cute.

  "I think it would be cute, actually," I said to Phisto.

  He just shook his head.

  "If you're serious about this,” Vasil started, “you need to understand that this will put an even bigger target on your back. You can’t just chop people’s heads off and hang them from your belt."

  "Let them come," I said. "I'll add their heads to the collection. Besides, I wouldn’t ‘just’ chop them off and hang them from my belt. I’d shrink them first."

  "This is deranged, even for you," Phisto said.

  Oh, right. They didn't know I was talking about a skill. I could see how that could sound a little crazy.

  "There's a skill for it," I said. "It's called [Headhunter]. You kill someone, claim their head, shrink it, and attach it to your gear. Each head gives you bonuses based on who you killed. I’m not some kind of monster!"

  “Right,” Phisto said.

  Vasil's expression shifted. "A skill? That changes things. What kind of bonuses?"

  I frowned. "It doesn't say exactly. Just that each head grants bonuses based on the strength and nature of the person."

  Vasil nodded slowly. "That could be very useful. Might help you gain power faster."

  "So you're on board with the head collection now?" I asked.

  "If it makes you stronger? Yes."

  I thought about Perry's words again. Make it flashy. This was a good start.

  “I’m taking it,” I said, putting my free skill point into it.

  [Headhunter] acquired.

  "Alright," I said. "Here's the plan. I go out into the swamp. I hunt. I level up. I test my skills. And I’ll keep my eye out for any offerings for upgrades, since I have a free upgrade point."

  Vasil nodded. "I’ll come with you."

  “And you, Skelly," I said pointing at Skelly, who was still staring at the corner for some reason. “I want you to start cleaning the place up. And please find me something soft to sleep on."

  He whipped around. “Can do!”

  “And you,” I said to Phisto, “you do whatever you want.”

  "Was planning to."

  “I know.” I clapped my hands. “Alright team, move out!”

  Phisto sighed.

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