Cruz sat opposite me, wearing a frown and the dark greys I suspected constituted the majority of his wardrobe. It had been eight days since we’d last spoken. Eight, not seven. Perhaps foolishly, I’d expected that Cruz would make himself available after the time period we agreed upon ran its course. Instead, he avoided me. Granted, I lacked any actual proof beyond my inability to find him, but even with Fudge’s help Cruz remained impossible to pin down.

  It wasn’t until Wynn, whom I passed by more than once while searching through the manor, thought to inquire as to my aimless wandering that I was able to achieve a semblance of success.

  “I will see what I can do, Master Will,” she said with a smile after I explained the situation. “Just be sure to come for breakfast in the dining hall tomorrow.” I still tried to find Cruz myself, after that, but it remained a fruitless effort.

  It was why I was pleasantly surprised that, come the next morning, a sour-faced Cruz sat waiting for me. Whatever Wynn had said or done, it worked wonders.

  “Weasel of a stunt you pulled,” Cruz said, reaching up to root around in one of his ears with a finger.

  I scoffed. Presumably, he was referring to Wynn’s involvement.

  “Seriously? You are accusing me of behaving like a weasel?” It was not the diplomatic start I had been planning, but I could not let the sheer audacity of the comment slide. “If anything, dodging me all day was ‘weasel-like’ behaviour.”

  “I am not here to waste my time arguing with a kid,” he replied quickly, as if he didn’t care to stoop to the level he established himself. “Just say your piece.” He withdrew the finger and sniffed at what was almost certainly a lump of earwax before wiping it on his shirt.

  Seething aside, I nodded, deciding not to comment on the whole earwax thing while I wrangled myself into a rough semblance of composure. After a deep breath, I spoke.

  “Simply put, I want you to do a little bit of work now and almost no work for the next several years. You make an accurate list of everything I am expected to learn or master or whatever to become a Slayer and I will figure it out from there, with a couple of caveats.”

  “No.” Cruz’s reply came almost immediately.

  “What do you mean, no?”

  “It means that your success would undercut the whole ‘Slayer Cruz is a bad mentor’ image I am trying to cultivate.” He shrugged. “Was that everything?”

  “Wait, so you want me to fail? Why would I even-”

  “Waste your time? Exactly. Quit.” He leaned back slightly in his chair. “It solves both our problems that way.”

  I reached out to grab the edge of the table, squeezing tight enough to turn my knuckles white.

  “That… is not going to work for me.” I reached for a less subtle argument. “If you do not tell me, I can just get someone else to-”

  “Nope, you-”

  “Will you stop interrupting me?!”

  “Clearly, I will not.” Cruz idly drummed his fingers along the table. “I may not care about our internal politics, but I will not let myself be a tool in them. Especially when some Skill-warped child tries to play me for a fool.”

  I almost denied it, but given what people like Lionel and Bella were capable of, I wasn’t sure if I could get away with a bold-faced lie; clearly, Cruz had some inkling of the broader circumstances. Instead, I doubled down with the truth, giving vent to the frustrations I was no longer able to keep at bay.

  “So what if I was trying to manipulate you into doing the bare fucking minimum?” I snapped. “You want me to sacrifice my future because of your ego? Whatever Skill crawled up inside your clearly unwashed arsehole must be a good one if it makes you think I would be willing to go along with that.” My voice cracked, and it was not the most elegant collection of words I’d ever strung together, but damn did it feel good.

  Before I could say more, a spike of concern stabbed at me through the Tamer Bond.

  Shit. Sorry Fudge. I am okay. I tried to send him soothing thoughts and feelings but my own bubbling irritation got in the way. While it was enough to prevent Fudge aggressively storming the dining hall, it left him feeling a sort of reckless anxiety; the resulting guilt was like a dousing of cold water.

  Cruz had been watching me, looking faintly amused at the prospect of a child - the equivalent of a fifth-grader - trying to scold him.

  “Finished?”

  “Clearly,” I spat. Fudge may have helped me simmer down, but I was still firmly of the opinion that Cruz could eat an entire bag of-

  “In that case, tell me what you are proposing other than the list.” I almost snapped my neck from the conversational whiplash.

  “Excuse me?” I sputtered. “Wait, so all of a sudden you are going to cooperate?” I did not know what my expression looked like, but some variant of confusion probably covered it.

  “I read the reports. Your Core Skill is Perseverance and, based on what I just heard, you have no intention of quitting. The effort-to-reward ratio from fighting this too much has officially swerved in your favour, I think.”

  “Just like that?”

  Cruz shrugged, his face back to its default, vaguely irritated settings.

  “Just like that”

  What a weird guy… On some level, I could appreciate his commitment to working as little as possible but it was baffling to me. Even in my first life, when routines and bouts of intentional focus were practically ephemeral the resulting impact on my productivity was never intentional.

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  I blinked the distracting train of thought away, returning my attention to Cruz and the topic at hand.

  “As well as the list, you meet with me once a week to-”

  “Once a year.”

  My hands briefly flexed into talons at being interrupted again.

  “Seriously, you-” I exhaled. “Fine, once every two weeks.”

  “Once every six months.” When I glared at him, he shrugged again, and I was beginning to find the gesture loathsome. “I will cooperate but I will not be used.”

  “Once a month. No more negotiations or I will find you once a month anyway.” I looked to Cruz expecting a challenge but the faint amusement had returned. “As I was saying, we will meet once a month and discuss my progress. You answer questions I have, give a demonstration or guidance if I need it… you know - your job.”

  “And other than that you leave me alone?” Cruz clarified, his eyes narrowing.

  “I will leave you be… unless I am acting on someone else’s orders.” It was as good as I could offer. Thankfully, it was enough. Cruz nodded in agreement and we sealed the deal with a handshake. I just tried not to think about where his hand had been.

  Cruz pushed his chair back and moved to stand.

  “For the record, you still give me the creeps. Now, since we are done, I-”

  “Not so fast,” I called out, taking great pleasure in being the one to interrupt Cruz. “I am making today one of your mentor days.” Cruz furrowed his eyebrow and I quickly continued, cutting off the argument I knew I was coming. “Think of it this way: The day is already partially over, so by all accounts sacrificing the rest of it will save you the most time in the long run.”

  Cruz silently sat back down, but his glare did not waver.

  “Save it. I made a deal and I tend to honor those. What do you need? The sooner we get this done, the sooner you will no longer be my problem for a month.” He used a foot to hook and retrieve a neighboring chair, pivoting slightly to prop his feet up on it.

  “I need you to supervise me while I attempt to break through the bottleneck of Recovery.” There was no way around it. Sneaking off to attempt the feat on my own would have been irresponsible - rather, more irresponsible - and the one perk of Cruz’s attitude was that he was likely to keep the whole thing to himself.

  “So you do have that Skill? And you picked it up in the First Tier? It is not like I did not trust the reports but - and you had best get used to hearing this when people learn about your bullshit - fuck you.” A finger had been levelled in my direction to eliminate any confusion as to for whom the fuck was addressed.

  I smirked at that.

  “Envy looks good on you.”

  Instead of the scowl I was expecting, Cruz instead answered me with a snicker.

  “Envy? Yeah, feel free to tell yourself that. Also, put on a smile and make like we are playing nice.” He took his feet off the chair and nudged it back into its original position.

  I quirked an eyebrow.

  “What are you-” I cut myself off when, almost on cue, the door to the dining hall opened to reveal Wynn carrying a pair of trays laden with food from the kitchen. The smell of smoked meats and toasted bread set my mouth watering; food prepared by people Skilled in the task was borderline irresistible. Even compared to food from my first life, mana more than bridged the seasoning gap.

  “Since you two are working so hard I decided to fetch breakfast for you,” Wynn crooned as she laid the food out before us. “Are you both getting along now?”

  Cruz plastered a smile on his face that no sensible person would believe to be genuine.

  “Absolutely. Will is my little buddy, right, Will?” His delivery was stiff but Wynn just nodded happily at the obvious lie before looking my way.

  “Errr, yes, definitely,” I sputtered, caught up in the moment.

  “Delightful,” she chirped. “Master Will, with your permission I will now take the liberty of tending to Master Fudge.” When I mutely nodded my assent, she beamed. “Then I shall take my leave. Master Cruz. Master Will.” She turned to leave, one arm lashing out with the speed of a viper to straighten out the slightly crooked chair next to Cruz as she did so.

  Cruz and I remained silent until she left.

  I have so many questions about that… and I don’t think I want the answer to any of them.

  “Now, tell me about this Advancement attempt of yours.” The fact that Cruz decided he would rather offer a helpful prompt instead of discussing what just happened was telling, but I saw no need to disrupt my own pitch to give him grief over the fact.

  I explained what I knew about the Taming Skill and the Beast High while we ate, leaving out that the only reason I could Skill-share with Taming at all given the Skill’s low level was due to the hyper-specialized variant I possessed. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Cruz chewed with his mouth open, undercutting every other one of my words with the sound of smacking lips. When the discussion turned back to the Recovery Skill and my plan to use it to combat the Beast High, Cruz’ interrupted me with a scoff.

  “So to clarify, you want to induce the Beast High, push it back with Recovery, and get an Advancement bonus to help you do so in the future?” He leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms.

  “That more or less covers it, yeah.”

  “And you want me there to supervise and intervene if you go feral or are subject to some other, unexpected side effect?”

  Where is he going with this… I narrowed my eyes.

  “Correct.”

  “Verbal jabs aside, considering the possibility of failure was equal parts wise and unwise.” When he saw the confused look on my face, he continued. “If you have a safety net, you do not need to succeed as much. It can hold a person back.”

  I blinked. Slowly.

  “I… had not considered that.” I was also taken aback by the surprisingly insightful comment.

  “Well, you have now,” Cruz said, taking a moment to snort and clear his throat. “Still want to do this?”

  “I-”

  “Shut up. If you are going to do this, do it right. You end this ‘mentor day’ crap early today and I make it happen. Agreed?” He held out his hand. I didn’t immediately take it.

  What is this guy’s deal? I was having trouble reconciling Cruz’s inconsistent attitude. I didn’t know what he was planning and it’d mean sacrificing hours of time with an experienced Slayer… but his words about the circumstances surrounding an Advancement made a certain amount of sense. If he can give me better odds at succeeding, I can wait a month before picking his brain again.

  I reached out and shook his hand before the offer was rescinded.

  “Deal, but why do you care? I thought you wanted me to fail?”

  Cruz scowled at me.

  “I wanted you to fail, not die or fall victim to some other ridiculous fate. Fuck, kid, give me some credit.” With that, Cruz stood and made his way to the dining hall doors. “I will collect you when everything is prepared.”

  “Okay, and for the record I-” Cruz slipped out the door and closed it behind him before I could finish and it was all I could do not to throw my food tray after him. “Okay, no apology then,” I muttered to myself before idly picking at the remnant of my breakfast.

  All in all, I’m going to count that one as a win, I told myself. It wasn't perfect, but it was probably the best I was going to get.

  Cruz has been getting a lot of justified smack talk, and I am here for it. I think we've all worked with a guy that he reminds us of in some fashion, even worse when it's a manager.

  You can read up to 10 Chapters Ahead over on my . Today's chapter features matters of family, a touch of serendipity, and some relative stupidity involving a bucket.

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