So it is done

"What did you want to talk about, Jonathan?" The Old Man said these words to me, with his back turned, but it would be silly to reproach him for that. Right now, he was trying to wash his hands off of some greasy crap stuck on them during another ritual. Putting his hands under the water running down the sink, the Old Man was rubbing his hands vigorously."Huh, good thing I installed a faucet… separate taps for hot and cold water are a little too backward even for me."

"About the conversation we had…" I tried to find something to look at without feeling uncomfortable just standing around doing nothing. A half-faded pentagram on the floor, a flask of something greasy in the corner, some half-melted candles already packed in cellophane bags and lying inside a suitcase with a small knife with a crooked bone handle beside it…

"We've had many conversations, Jonathan." The Old Man replied, clearly with a slight smile on his face, judging by the tone of his voice. "Maybe some specifics?"

"The one we had yesterday. You know which one, Old Man." I waffled in place, unsure whether I should have made my way to the nearest small cushioned couch beside me, the only furniture in the already empty cold concrete box. "About right and good…"

"Ah, that," The Old Man finally rinsed everything off his hands before reaching for the towel previously placed on the sink. "What questions, Jonathan?"

"Yes." I sighed as I watched the Old Man wipe his hands dry. "I… I still don't understand, how exactly do you tell what's good apart from what's right?"

"Hmm?" The Old Man finally turned to me, and as expected, he was smiling a little under his glasses. "Okay, Jonathan, why are you confused?"

"I…" I was a little uncomfortable, asking perhaps a stupid question. Noticing my discomfort, the Old Man nodded to the cushioned couch next to me.

"I thought about it… So, for me, doing something 'Good' means good for me and my condition, and doing something 'Right' is doing something that is good for others… maybe." I answered as I took a seat

At these words, the Old Man thought for a moment and then nodded, "That's an interesting thought, Jonathan. Maybe you could explain how you came to that conclusion to me?"

I hesitated for a second, but the Old Man sent me a reassuring smile, allowing me to speak anyway. "You see… for example, say a group of people were attacking someone, like some gang were trying to take money from an old man…"

"Me?" The Old Man smirked, to which I just shook my head. "No, not you…"

The Old Man just nodded, glad for the levity, before I continued talking. "I mean, what do I do when faced with that situation? If I call the police, I would be committing a good act wouldn't I? But if instead of that, I intervened myself, I could have easily dispersed such a gang, or even just gotten the old man out of there, that would be the right thing to do, wouldn't it?"

Having expressed my thought, I looked up at the Old Man, expecting some kind of approval, even a simple nod, but… it was not there.

"Hmm, is that so?" The Old Man just looked at me thoughtfully. "That's the conclusion you came to…"

Instantly panic arose in my mind as I tried to say something, anything to justify my thinking, but the Old Man only shook his head a little. "Don't worry, it's quite a complicated dichotomy. Hmm, Jonathan… No, in your case, hmm if we were to use your criteria, isn't the right decision the same as the good one?" The Old Man half-smiled, tilting his head slightly so that his glasses slid down his nose.

"Hm? What do you mean, Old Man." I looked up at the Old Man, confused.

"Just, using the criteria you used, saving an old man from the clutches of a gang might be a bit of an issue, but you can do it without any trouble for yourself, can't you? You know how to teleport, don't you?" I nodded slowly, not seeing what the Old Man was alluding.

"So, doesn't it mean that you can just teleport a gun from my desk drawer? The one that you're not supposed to look at, hmm?" The Old Man's words nearly made me burn with embarrassment, I had indeed looked into the forbidden drawer once before. But, before I could think of an excuse, the Old Man continued talking as if nothing was wrong.

"It's natural magic, no one knows that you didn't have a gun in your pocket until now, do they? So, simply teleport the gun in your pocket, then shake the gun in their faces. Well, depending on the group you're scaring, maybe shoot in the air once, and then they'll run away, won't they? The gang obviously wouldn't turn to the police, and even if they did, even if they somehow have a perfect recall, a man with your name and appearance is currently studying in Spain. In other words, with one simple spell, that would be the end of the matter, no problem with people, paradox, or the law, wouldn't it?"

I nodded slowly, realising what the Old Man was building towards.

"And, with the other option, if you call the police with the kind of information you have, they will definitely respond quickly enough to deal with the problem. And even if they're too late, it is likely that the criminals will be caught soon based on their description alone. And then your action would probably save more than this particular person. After all, if the criminals are caught by the police, wouldn't that be better? Most likely, they would be imprisoned and for a few years they would definitely not be a danger to society, and quite possibly after imprisonment, they would no longer be a threat to society at all, wouldn't they?"

I lowered my face. "So… I was wrong."

"So we need to think about other criteria, Jonathan." The Old Man smiled warmly. "Don't worry, Jonathan. It's not an exam, and I'm not your examiner, I was just curious to see what conclusion you come to in your reflections."

I sighed, then looked up at the Old Man. "Then, should I go and think about it?"

"Hmm, why would you go?" The Old Man was quite naturally surprised. "You already came to me, so why don't we think about it together?"

"Together?" I blinked in surprise, "But… this is an attempt to teach me, isn't it?"

"Absolutely," The Old Man raised his hand to his neat short beard and ran his hand over it a little, gently smoothing it, "Which is why I want you to think about it. Because the best thing is not to give knowledge to a man, but to teach him to think, isn't it? Doesn't mean that you have to do it alone."

"Maybe… " I sighed, then thought about it.

So, what is Good and what is Right. Actually, what's the difference between the two?

I tried to strain my mind.

A good answer is the right answer. The right thing, if it is the right thing in human terms, shouldn't it also be a good thing? Morally good, isn't it?

Then what's the difference between the two?

I tried to grasp the two concepts. To find the distinction between the two.

A good answer is not always the right one. But the right answer, the right answer must always be a good answer, mustn't it? That's what human society is built on. Morality is built on the fact that in the end, the right, and the good should always coincide. Then what is the difference between them?

Perhaps it is not about them, entirely. Not about the concepts themselves… But about something else?

What is it, then?

I sighed slowly, asking myself the same question again.

What is the difference… What is the difference between the two?

When can an act be good but not be right?

What act is the right one, but at the same time, bad? Morally bad?

Maybe… something about the Laws?

I mean, perhaps… possibly when laws don't take morality into account?

Or are all laws based on morality?

If a starving poor man stole some food off the counter to feed his family, that was wrong, but morally good.

Was stealing a good thing, Jonathan?

No, it wasn't good. It could only be a justifiable act, but not a good one.

Besides, we forget to look at the whole situation. How did it come about in the first place that this poor man had a family to feed, for which he had stooped to stealing to do?

Maybe, he had a job that was enough before, and now he finds himself in this situation?

In that case, wouldn't the most logical thing to do would be to start looking for another job?

Yes. It was certainly logical.

After all, there were many other possibilities…

It's not like the poor man couldn't find some other low-paying job, is it? I don't think it takes special qualifications to be a cleaner or a porter?

But it might not be enough to feed a family!

Quite possibly, absolutely. Besides, child labor has been abolished, so there are other ways of making a living in the city, aren't there?

I blinked.

You can't be talking about scavenging trash, can you?!

Oh no, of course not, it would be much easier to put the children in an orphanage… in theory at least. Even by putting them in an orphanage, one can still remain in touch with them every day. It's just a boarding house where they would have a place to sleep and food. If we're talking about that dreadful situation where both parents can't feed the family, putting their kids in an orphanage is the best option. That's heartbreaking, but really, it's the right, good option, isn't it?

Is it?

And, if we're talking about this hypothetical situation, isn't giving your children food and shelter, even if not with you, more moral than forcing them to eat from the rubbish bin? And, if we have already set foot in this territory, isn't scavenging trash a more moral alternative than stealing?

Now, I'm even more confused.

I sighed, then looked at the Old Man's face, confusion probably written all over my face. "I don't know, Old Man… I can't tell the difference between the two."

"Of course, take your time." But the Old Man, instead of chastising me for failing, just smiled. "Don't worry, Jonathan. These are difficult, difficult questions, with answers that I can't give you. Not to the fullest extent, at least."

"Huh?" I blinked, "You… You don't know the answer yourself, Old Man?"

"Oh no, Jonathan." The Old Man just chuckled. "I know how to answer these questions, at least answers that I could stand. But like I said, Jonathan, you don't have to give knowledge, you just have to teach one to think. You'll find an answer that you're satisfied with."

"Why…" I looked at the Old Man, a bit mystified. "How… how do I know the right answer then?"

"Don't worry Jonathan," To my question the Old Man just shrugged his shoulders. "You've already completed the most important step. You already know that there is a difference between what is right and what is good, you can already feel it. You just don't fully know the difference yet. You feel its presence, but you cannot grasp it. And that is absolutely normal." The Old Man nodded at his own words, before continuing.

"Jonathan, the essential thing to have is not the ability to easily tell the difference between the two things, but to understand that there's a difference in the first place. The opposite of good is bad. But the opposite of right is wrong. There are many deeds which, although good, are still wrong. These deeds have caused many misfortunes, for the unawakened and magicians alike… I included."

"And there are events that even when bad are also right…" As he spoke the last sentence, I suddenly noticed how the Old Man slowly shifted his gaze downwards, looking somewhere through the floor. What is it he's looking at, I can't tell. "Or… at least what we perceive to be so in our own time…"

"It's not so bad that you can't see the difference between right and good now, Jonathan." The Old Man smiled wistfully. "For, you know…"

***

The day you realize the difference between 'good' and 'right' will be the saddest day of your life.

I exhaled, looking at Cinder in front of me.

Probably… the Old Man was right when he talked about this dichotomy in the past.

Good and bad, right and wrong…

More dead officers, a murderer who clearly should have been executed a long time ago and will be executed one way or another. Maybe he might even die while in a scuffle.

What was the good but wrong thing to do in this case? And what was the right but bad thing to do? Is there even an option that is both good and right to be found?

Any action you take now will not lead to a perfect outcome. It was already impossible.

There was no way to save people who had already died, and there was no way to save someone who had already forfeited their lives. There was no way.

It was impossible to allow their killer to live without insulting those he had already killed.

In other words… There was no other choice. To do a bad but the right thing…

Jonathan sighed, then collected himself. "Cinder, please stand aside."

Cinder after hearing Jonathan's voice, or perhaps catching something in Jonathan's gaze, nodded slowly and took a step back.

"Alright…" Jonathan sighed and looked away, before realizing something. "Huh… I've never actually held a rifle… I wonder how one looked here."

***

Marcus Black, invisible, intangible, flying, odorless, and completely naked, was hurrying away from the Kingdom of Glenn.

To the casual observer, well to one that can see through his invisibility, his appearance could only elicit laughter, well, or squeamishness, but Marcus cared little for his appearance at the moment.

"To hell with this contract," Was his only thought. "To hell with Jacques Schnee!"

Marcus Black, as mentioned earlier, followed one important rule in his work, 'Whoever pays the most, determines his targets'. In other words, Marcus was attracted solely by money.

However, it wasn't money itself that attracted Marcus Black's obsession, something which he collected with an unhealthy zeal, but the things he could buy with it. He loved booze, women, trinkets and other hobbies, not money in and of itself.

And to spend money on these things, Marcus Black needs to be alive.

Of course, Marcus had no plans to part with his money anytime soon, but he had even less of a plan to part with his life. That was why Marcus Black had chosen the most profitable and rational of all his current strategies. Namely, to retreat.

Yes, he was not the most professional of assassins, but even he was not a complete idiot, unable to understand that the situation at the moment was clearly not in his favor.

His attempt to attack Osmond, has ended in complete failure. He was very quickly discovered and found, all without accomplishing a single thing. After which he had to flee, making a lot of noise around him.

In other words, even Marcus Black, who didn't exactly fit the common man's idea of an 'elite hunter-assassin', could easily see that the situation was definitely not in his favor. Fleeing was the most logical thing for him to do in this case.

Jacques had agreed to all the original terms of the contract, after all, even he understands that an assassination needed to be paid upfront. A contract that sees him transferring a million lien to a dummy account without question, from where Marcus had already pulled it into his own account in pieces, losing no more than a few thousand during the transfer.

Jacques had paid out all the money in advance, which meant that right now Marcus had money in his account. A lot of money.

Of course, his decision to run away had many unpleasant consequences, like the fact that he would obviously be hunted down, that Osmond would become a much more secure target, and there would be information about the failed assassination attempt. Yes, it was a nasty blow to his reputation, after all the assassin community is a small one, and every one of them is always looking to save their own hide. It wouldn't be hard for Glenn to figure out who had tried to assassinate their King.

But, better to get a hit on his reputation and survive, than to die with his reputation remaining pristine.

After all, he had money, a lot of it. Not that there was an infinite amount of it, but for a couple of years of quiet life in the wastelands, the pleasures of life included, as well as a new lodge, he definitely has enough. Too bad that and he would probably have to abandon his old one now, but oh well.

Of course, the problem will be the blow to the reputation he's managed to amass in that time. Remnant's best assassin… Well, he's still one, a couple of years of downtime, and he'll regain that reputation back.

Still, if word got out that he had double-crossed Jacques Schnee by charging him a fee and not completing the job, and the white-haired posh bastard would certainly do that, then his career would be over. An assassin who failed an assassination attempt and then escaped with the client's money… Yeah, it would be no surprise if the well of future contracts would dry up.

Which meant Marcus will need to 'die' soon, he needs to start working up a new identity, breaking through from the bottom again, And as practice had shown, he might not stand for something like that. Too much work.

In other words, Marcus needed to get rid of Osmond, to shed the stigma of being a failed assassin. Well, if luck is on his side, it might even add to his reputation as some 'mercenary who never gives up', which was another twenty percent to the price tag.

Quality assurance, ha-ha.

In any case, it was as clear as daylight to Marcus that he needed to kill Osmond, but it was also just as clear to him that he couldn't achieve that in his current situation. He had lost his skills, he had not prepared any plan, and he had not studied Osmond or his surroundings.

Indeed, the outcome of his actions had been predetermined from the start.

That was why Marcus needed to retreat now. He needed to get in shape a little and develop a plan. Just like in the years when he still cared about something like this.

As has already been said, Marcus had enough money he could use right now, Jacques had paid in full in advance for his work. So maybe he could even send a letter of complaint? After all, it could even be said that Jacques had not given him the full information about his target.

Jacques wouldn't like it, but at least it would save Marcus his reputation as the best assassin in Remnant.

After that? After that, he would need to remember, for the first time in many years, exactly what he had learned in Haven.

His skills had managed to degrade considerably, but it was indeed much easier to remember lessons learned, than to learn anything from scratch. It would probably take him a few months to do that…

Then after that, he would need another couple of months to make a plan. Studying Osmond, his surroundings, his routine, the security around him, then the state's law enforcement…

My teeth are starting to hurt just thinking about having to wade through all that crap.

Still, if Marcus wanted to deal with Osmond eventually, and Marcus did, he required both to remember his former combat skills, and to come up with a full-fledged assassination plan.

In other words, in about six months… or was that too soon? No, in about six months, Marcus would be able to attempt an assassination again. And this time it would be a very different Marcus! He would be reinvigorated in his fighting skills, with a plan and preparation.

He had enough money for those six months, or more if he needed to. He could afford such a delay.

And that was why right now Marcus was running away.

Using his invisibility, intangibility, and levitation to the fullest, he climbed over the walls of Glenn. Still more of a giant barricade of nearby ruins than a proper fortification. And was on the other side fairly quickly. Without pause, he quickly headed for the nearest grouping of trees, gliding only slightly above ground.

One meter, two, ten, one hundred, it would seem he could escape scot-free and Marcus had time to relax, but… it seems that luck wasn't on his side after all.

He really shouldn't have come to Glenn at all.

For a moment, Marcus just felt… Danger. A sense of danger out of nowhere, yet at the same time, it was so all-encompassing, a terrifying danger that strained every vestige of his fighting instincts, making them cry out at once.

DANGER!

If Marcus had only known how similar his thoughts were to Cinder's at that moment, he might even have been surprised, and might even have considered it a kind of poetic karma.

If he had known, of course.

But Marcus didn't know, and so his first and only action was to turn around, preparing to dash away from the danger coming in his direction. Too bad, the danger he was facing was not something that can be so easily dodged.

Pain pierced his body.

It cut into his stomach in a red-hot blot, coursing through his body, through his veins, up from his solar plexus, turning from heat to pain and from pain to numbness.

Pain. Pain. Pain. PAIN!

His concentration cut, unable to sustain his semblances, Marcus collapsed to the ground, holding his stomach, unable to even tear his gaze away from the blood and look around.

Everything in the world ceased to exist as the pain coursed through him, all of seemingly merging into a single PULSE that stabbed his body with a red-hot knife.

I'M DYING!

Marcus wanted to scream, but he couldn't even let out a whimper as the pain seized his lungs and sucked all the air out, leaving him writhing in pain.

HELP! HELP PLEASE!

The moment of pain lasted agonizingly long, wracking through his body, before the pain in his chest made Marcus realize that his lungs were now filling with blood.

His naked body was bleeding, his eyes were covered in blood, blood that had dripped from his mouth, his nose, and his ears, slowly leaving red streaks on his bare skin.

The moment that had lasted so agonizingly, so infinitely, long was interrupted as quickly as it had appeared, but the pain still remained in his body.

Marcus tried to stand, to rise from his stupor, to run away from the danger. But, all he succeeded in doing was tearing one hand away from his burning, aching stomach and shaking off the bloody tears that had appeared on his face.

What was it? Where did it come from? Would it happen again?

There were so many questions that were running through Marcus' mind, but none of them meant anything. Not now.

RUN!

Only one thought flashed through Marcus' mind as the deluge of endless pain receded.

RUN AWAY FROM HERE!

Marcus made a desperate attempt, all while enduring the pain, not paying attention to the bloody streaks running down his body, not even bothering to know if he was still bleeding. All that he needed to know was that he needed to run away.

His arm was awkwardly thrown to the side, ignore the pain! As he crashed into the ground, mixing blood and dirt, as he desperately tried to move his body.

It didn't matter where, the important thing to do was to RUN!

Marcus limped awkwardly, not bothering to care about the condition of his body, to run away from the source of pain. Still, the pain continued to pummel him, as if a blade was ripping through his bell. But, if his guts weren't preventing him from running, there was no point in looking at them.

He had to run as fast as he could!

Marcus threw all his effort into running as he felt the sweat and blood mingle on his body as it tumbled down, each step causing untold pain. But despite the pain, all his remaining instincts, his skills, were telling him only one thing.

RUN!

Marcus didn't notice the moment the plains changed to a small forest and then to plains again, but the moment his gaze could almost make out the escape ship he had left in the clearing, Marcus heard shouting.

"On the ground, hands in the air. Stop or I'll shoot!" The voice came to him from somewhere to the side.

Marcus managed to comprehend these words a few moments after he heard them.

His mind was able to convey to him the thought that he seemed to have been caught. His thought was able to connect his sense of pain and voice orders with necessary action on Marcus' part, but… he couldn't comprehend them.

In a few months, Marcus Black would be able to regain his former level of ability. His skills, his knowledge and, most importantly, his reflexes. In a few months, escaping a few beat cops would be a walk in a park, even when he was so wounded.

But not now.

Right now, Marcus Black didn't have time to react to the words in the same instant that he heard them, simply continuing to do what his instincts called him to do.

Marcus Black continued to run.

Just two or three steps, but whoever it was that had shouted the warning to him wasn't ready… No, rather, wasn't even planning on reacting to such confusion. They simply followed their training.

Marcus heard a loud thud, followed by an aching, numbing pain in his stomach that became momentarily sharp in one part of his body. Then in another. And in a third.

Somehow, detachedly, his mind was able to collate the loud sound he had heard a moment ago was in fact three closely consecutive sounds, sounds that he had heard many times before. It was loud, heavy, and unpleasant.

Gunshots, came to Marcus a late realization. I had disobeyed their order, and they had opened fire on me…

As his foot stepped on the ground, it seemed to scoot itself to the side, missing its intended location, making him start falling sideways. His second foot didn't even touch the ground.

Marcus dimly realized that the earth was quickly approaching.

As if in slow motion, Marcus realized that he was falling. So slowly that he could see the ground approaching his face clearly.

A moment later, Marcus's face hit the ground, and his mind was frozen for a second.

Why was he on the ground? He needed to run. It was quiet, dark, and chilly. A cold breeze passed over his naked body. A strand of hair, drenched with sweat, clung to his forehead…

And then came the PAIN.

And then darkness.