Consul Winters, it is Lein. I have found a reason to approach the boy now, so we may proceed. I will take his System if the opportunity presents itself. My husband and I are working the angles as best we can, but nothing is guaranteed. He is almost certain to have Trespasser support from the Lodge—I suspect John Bishop remains in league with him, and perhaps his father is in play too, though rumors say that his relationship with William Yu is anything but cordial.


    I will keep you updated on our progress. I accept your condolences readily, but as for Herzog—he was always expendable. At least he died for something useful.


    -Lein the Last


    II-76


    Those Who Move Forces


    The four-shrouded space containing Herzog’s remains flickered and died. Almost immediately, demonic attendants came in, flying through the air. Some bore mops, scooping the molten magma, while others carried large trays and containers to haul the substance away. It was as if a spell had broken over the crowd—murmuring persisted for a moment before most returned to their own festivities. Some went for food, some to drink, and others wandered off to watch new fights spawning in and around the area. It was a festival of madness and indifference—a life lost, a scheme unfolding. But that was just another day in the claim tales.


    When Wei’s Omniscience fell upon the Old Man’s face, the smile was gone; his expression turned neutral, his eyes searching, as if trying to decipher what the future held. Meanwhile, Goldskull kept looking away. Intermittently, a few essence tendrils snaked in and out of his being, evidence that he was still in contact with someone—yet Bishop’s encryption proved impenetrable.


    The young master then returned to the dais. The first to greet him was Rafael, who stumbled forward, squeezing through the crowd. “What was that?” Rafael asked. “I’ve never seen someone mount themselves like that before. Did you say something to him? About his mother?”


    “I did not,” Wei replied, “but I suspect his mother—she ordered him to kill himself by any means necessary to bring me down.”


    “What? Why?” Rafael pressed.


    “I’m not certain,” the young master answered, “but I think a game is being played against us. I suspect the Duke is in league with his wife.”


    The lich, silently observing, glanced momentarily at Goldskull. “Then are we… are we fucked, Wei?”


    “Not quite yet. Let’s continue to watch and see what they do. Bishop and my father are gathering more intelligence, trying to pull out every bit of information. For now, we play along. If we show our hand too early, I fear they might know we’re aware of their schemes.”


    “Right, right,” Rafael agreed. “There’s also something else—there are unknown ciphers in the area. I don’t think the Old Man has put them up.”


    “Unknown ciphers?” Wei mused.


    “Yes, hidden oculi. I found them in the corner of the room. Very well-made.”


    “But not well-made enough to escape you,” Wei said with a smirk, eliciting a thoughtful nod from Rafael.


    “One must be truly schooled in the platonic arts to be so assured of their capabilities. Alas, most just churn out worthless slop in the Crossroads ‘proper academic institutions,’” Rafael spat disgustedly.


    Soon, they arrived before the Old Man, and Wei and his other disciples clustered in awkward groups. They were allowed near the Count and the Duke, while massive gold-armored demonic guardians watched over them—shepherding them, keeping them separated from the other Sinners. Wei wondered if this deliberate segregation was meant to create a sort of in-and-out group between his people and the rest. The darkest parts of his mind even considered what might happen if the Old Man demanded that everyone in this chamber turn on them. Though Wei doubted that would occur, in the Claimed Hells surprises were never in short supply.


    “Well, that was something,” the Old Man said glibly. “Duke, I must apologize. I understand that you and your family have had, well, disagreements in the past—but losing a son like that will shake any man.”


    “Ah, yes,” the duke replied solemnly. “Alas, his life was his own, and for whatever inadequacy, he chose to walk a dire path. At least you were spared, young man.” The duke’s voice lit with a mix of joy and effervescence as he addressed Wei, “Tell me, you’re Wei—Wei An Wei, the one who broke Many-wed, correct?”


    “That is I,” Wei said, offering a slight salute. His gaze remained fixed on the Duke’s face, and as the eccentric Goldskull threw his head back in a hearty chuckle, Wei felt an undeniable charisma emanate from him—as if he was a man who could take any hardship and simply move on unaffected.


    “Well, I’m glad to finally meet you,” the Duke continued. “You’ve made a lot of people happy. In fact, you’ve actually doubled my earning portfolio.”


    Wei hesitated. “I… you bet on me?”


    “Oh, no! I was busy trying to avoid a lawsuit at the time—rival problem. You’ll run into those if you survive long enough down here. But I would have liked to! One of my many assistants decided to place a bid on you after they saw how you fought—a tip from our good friend over here, the Count.” The Duke then placed a hand on the count’s shoulder, his fingers slipping through the white ball of fire dancing upon the Count’s pauldron. Even so, the duke remained unscathed, as if his very touch was immune to immense heat and disruptive essence.


    “Whatever the case, I just want you to know that I’ll do all I can to protect you from any reprisals from my wife. She is a most unreasonable woman.”


    Wei paused, uncertain how to respond. “I thank you for your offer, Duke.”


    “Call me Goldskull,” the Duke said with a chuckle. “Anyway, I think we’re going to be doing a lot of business in the future, getting along. Tell me—a little birdie has been whispering. No, several little birdies, in fact—they say you are interested in making a run for Hell’s Vanguard, with the coming invasion of Earth.”


    Leaning closer as if to share a conspiratorial secret, the Duke asked, “So, if you can tell a friend a secret—because I’m really curious—are you doing this for revenge or because you genuinely want a piece of the action?”


    Wei’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Bishop?”


    The Trespasser replied instantly. “Just be as honest as you can. This one is a canny operator in the political scene—I don’t think you’re going to lie your way past him. He might even have a Skill for detecting falsehoods.”


    Wei kept his spirit loose, though tension still built inside him. “I must be honest—I do like power,” he admitted. But then images of Evernest flashed behind his mind: the burning of everblossoms, the butchery of his sect—everything that had happened to him. “I want the Trespassers to know loss. I want them to understand what happens when their world is taken. But I don’t wish to butcher their world, to cull their people or reduce their realm to flames. No, I simply want them to know that it is better managed by a proper master—a more measured hand.”


    Goldskull nodded, unoffended and unsurprised. “That is certainly more noble than what many would be after such trauma. I should also let you know that I am a Trespasser myself—but I harbor no real love for Earth.” With a casual twirl of his hand, Wei barely noticed as the Duke telekinetically snatched a drink from a nearby attendant. Bringing it to his mouth, the Duke threw it back and, in an astonishing moment, the wine splashed against his skull and seemed to be absorbed into it, as if the material itself were drinking the fluid.


    Wei blinked, unsure how the mechanics worked for that.


    “Regardless, I might be able to help you with things. The Old Man here mentioned that you might be interested in a—what did you call it? A mutual partnership.”


    The Duke’s tone turned teasing. “The boy has been playing hard to get, hasn’t he, Wei?”


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Wei managed a small, awkward smile. “Yes, I would like to maintain my autonomy for a while, but I haven’t forgotten what the Circle of Pride has done for me. I simply think that with all the forces out for me and all that I must do…”


    The Duke interjected warmly, “Oh, I understand. Of course, I do. We don’t want to pressure anyone into joining our circle. After all, that’s a sure recipe for betrayal down the line.”


    A hush fell between them—a moment of conspiratorial silence filled with promise and cautious ambition. In that charged atmosphere, Wei knew that every secret traded and every alliance forged was a step in a much larger game. And though the path ahead was treacherous, marked by the scars of loss and the uncertainty of schemes unfolding, he resolved to play his part with a measured hand, determined to reclaim his power in a world of endless treachery.


    There was an undercurrent of malice in the Duke’s words, but it quickly faded as he continued on. “Anyway, now, let me talk to you about potential sponsorships. This will bring us closer—and maybe might just push you into a more, I don’t know, positive-leaning relationship with my people.”


    Wei looked at him and nodded slowly. “What do you have in mind?”


    “What do I have in mind?” the Duke replied as he wrapped his arm around Wei. With a snap of his fingers, the space before them transformed. Suddenly, birds swirled about, and a spreading sphere of illusory brilliance repainted the environment. Several sinners cried out as their surroundings changed, but most adapted within moments. The sheer amount of power rippling out from the duke was staggering—Wei nearly buckled under its force. Rafael did buckle, as did Ellena and several others.


    “Goddamn,” Bishop muttered. “I nearly got pulled out of your mind there. There’s a lot of goddamn firepower in one person. Fucking Dukes.”


    Wei hesitated as he took in his new surroundings. This was the Bloodgrounds—an arena as wide as a bowl. It wasn’t the one where he’d fought many wed; instead, rib-like cages were fused over the top, from which dangled the flayed remains of sinners who had fallen for transgressions against their circles. The ground beneath his feet moved like a rolling current—not quite fluid, yet possessing the properties of crashing stone. The young master adapted easily, just as the duke did, but then the Duke pointed to the distance and showed an approaching army.


    “So this is what you might get during these Bloodground challenges. It’s all entertainment. Very gauche. Very heavy on the spectacle. But what you need is an inroad to more meaningful foes. And they usually don’t waste their lives and time against skilled, dangerous, but ultimately unsponsored foes. There’s a lot of bidding that happens between fighters and champions, and more than just pride and blood are lost in ever battle. We got high society here. You’ve demonstrated you can fight—but can you fight the right people?” The Duke snapped his fingers again, and suddenly the approaching army dissolved into bubbles. One person stood across from Wei. One. Vendrian. The Scion of Death stared, surprised at his sudden appearance.


    Wei sent him a message. “Did you just…?”


    “Yeah, he teleported me,” Vendrian replied. “I was standing all the way over on the edge.”


    “And you didn’t consent to this?” Wei asked.


    “No I didn’t fucking consent to this. He’s a Duke of hell—I can’t do anything against him.”


    Wei frowned. He wasn’t used to feeling so weak, but so far the Duke hadn’t used his powers against him. That was probably a technique in of itself. To show how easily the Duke could affect him; but how he refused to affect him because of respect or favor. It only came at the cost of insulting the Collectress’s champion. “Now, I know that you’re going to need a lot more significance to be in the ring, so we can come to an arrangement. I want you to try out a few fights under my name—as sponsor. Me, the Old Man, you—a co-union of interests. With my influence and your skill, I think we might just keep ringing the doorbell for bigger and better fights. As for the rest of your people—your sect, if that’s what you call it—we can get them trained up. We have more resources, and I might even be able to schedule some opportunities for them as well.”


    Leaning in closer, the dDuke added, “I’m not exactly sure they’re on the same level as you. Don’t take offense, none taken, but someday some will become quite competent—some might even become legendary.”


    Wei’s voice held a note of conviction as he replied, “I thank you for your offer, Duke.”


    The Duke leaned back. “Is there a but? Don’t worry—I can take it. I might cry, but I can take it.”


    The Old Man’s laughed, his voice filled with force and obsequiousness. Wei already hated being a part of this. “I am… embarrassed to not have a proper offering on standby, as is customary.”


    “A gift,” the Duke said, placing a hand over his chest. “Well, damn, aren’t you just sweetheart. I mean you’ve already dealt with my son—even though that didn’t end the best of ways—so I don’t know. I think you’ve already given me a gift enough.”


    “No,” Wei said. “I insist.”


    And thus Wei produced the offering: a mirror that would allow William to move from one space to another. And so, Goldskull would be used as another potential point of entry for William when they headed toward the Collectress’s nest of lust later. “Wow, this is quaint.” The duke took the mirror, admiring its polished surface. “It’s pretty polished. I like how I look in this one.” He turned it on the Old Man. “Oh, is that an extra wrinkle I see in there?”


    The Old Man flattened his lips. “Fuck you, Duke,” he replied, in a tone that mingled respect and derision.


    “Respectably, indeed,” the Duke said. “Anyway, thank you for this wonderful gift, kid.” He patted William on the shoulder. “Now, we can talk more business later, but for now, enjoy yourself—look around and keep an eye out. You never know when one of my wife’s loyalists might peg you and try to start another fight with you and yours. In fact, I’d recommend you stay close to the Old Man. Who knows? He might even send that orc you met on your first day out to help you.”


    “Wouldn’t that be nice? Isn’t that nice, Old Man? Let’s send Mulver to be our personal attaché.”


    “Sounds like a good job for him,” the Old Man said, and Wei nodded in agreement. Of everything discussed, this was one of the few things he found truly palatable.


    “All right, so it’s all settled.” The Duke patted his legs. “Now, remember, kid—you only get one chance to live, so live it up, have fun, and let tomorrow be tomorrow’s problems.” With a hearty slap on Wei’s shoulder, he snapped his fingers, the illusion disintegrated, and he vanished into the crowd. As he merged with the many sinners, he bellowed, “Free drinks for everyone! In fact, double the drinks! Bring out the nice stuff!”


    Suddenly, another emanation appeared—the Goldskull. Power filled the air, and from above, golden amber began raining down. The sticky substance splashed against Wei’s hair—sticky and sweet, it tasted incredibly good. Yet the young master frowned as he struggled to pull the stickiness from his long strands.


    Nearby, Vendrian was doing the same. “This is going to be a fucking nightmare to wash out.”


    “Yes,” Wei agreed. Until he channeled his cleansing flames, and found them more than capable of destroying the sticky substance stuck to his hair.


    The Scion of Death went still, and slowly, his mouth opened, only for nothing to be said.


    “Ah,” Wei sighed. “A simple solution? Oh? Can you not do this?”


    “Fuck. You.”


    “Hm. Another defeat for ‘This Bitch.’ A true tragedy, your life seems to be.”


    “Yeah, laugh it up. In fact, we should tell more people about how you seem to intuitively know the technique for getting sticky wet shit out of your hair. Learn that from experience, Wei?”


    The young master’s nostrils flared. “I refuse to dignify this accusation with a reply.”


    “Yeah, the Duke is a pretty carefree guy. But hey, at least you got something out of this.” The Old Man took a step closer to Wei. “Listen, I’m gonna put more protection detail on you. Lane—she, uh, isn’t known for caring for her kids, but still, letting one die in a fight against you… well, then it’s probably deliberately engineered, son. I’m sorry—some kind of plot is afoot here, something I can’t fully explain. But you just gotta be careful. If she comes for you, if she tries to pressure you into anything, just take it on the chin. Don’t get into a fight with her, don’t get into contests with her, and don’t do whatever she’s trying to goad you into doing, do you understand?”


    The Old Man’s voice was more serious than Wei had ever heard it, and the young master sensed that, on some level, the Old Man genuinely cared for him—even if only as a recruit. “I thank you for your advisement,” Wei said.


    “Yeah, well, thank me by staying alive. I’ll send for Mulver—he’ll track her movements and her minions. I don’t think she’ll come in person, since her husband’s here and they’re not on speaking terms.”


    “Interesting.” It seemed the Old Man was either in on the scheme or simply didn’t think the relationship between Gold Skull and his wife was that good.


    Just then, a message came into Wei’s mind—from Agnesia: “Wei, I’m in. I’m currently in a nice room with a few bad attendants; I’m being kept in private chambers, but I think I’m deep inside. The hallways are winding—I tried to get a glimpse of the layout but…”


    “That’s fine,” Wei replied internally. “Are you well?”


    “Yes, I’m entirely all right. In fact, the aromas here are quite relaxing. But… the slaves… there are so many… And I’m always being watched… This isn’t a safe place, and whatever the Collectress seeks to do—”


    “Will not come to fruition. Your mother is well. The mirror has been handed off. I am going to continue... mingling.”


    An awkwardness slipped between them. “Right. Good. I’m glad you are fine too.”


    “Yes,” Wei said.


    “Jesus Fucking Christ, son, what are you doing?” William muttered within Wei’s mind. He started laughing a moment later, and Wei struggled not to growl.


    “All right,” Agnesia coughed. “I’ll just…”


    “You’re doing well,” Wei reassured her. “We are doing well. Keep focused, do not shake—do not let this place take anything else from you.”


    A note of resolve entered her mind. “Yeah, I won’t. I won’t.”