Brent Stinebaker
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II-104 Patriarch’s Return
🕑 Added 2025-05-16 08:38:01 +0000 UTCFellow Consuls. We have a problem. A severe problem.
-Intercepted Message Among the Inheritor High Consuls
II-104
Patriarch’s Return
“Vendrian. Vendrian? Wake up? Are you well? Vendrian?”
A low, muffled groan sounded from the Scion of Death. A crackling followed, his body jolted forth. For a few moments, he felt nothing but open air as he fell intpullthe pull of gravity, only to be caught by someone impossibly strong—but also much smaller than himself. As Vendrian managed to break the frost crusting around his left eye, he saw Wei An Wei—savior and all-round asshole—holding him up.
“Huh. So you didn’t end up dead.” Vendrian coughed weakly.
“Yes. A tragedy. Sadly, your life is a horrible affair, and you will have to suffer me a while longer yet.”
The Scion of Death felt himself come fully free from their father, and with a jarring blink, materialize on the shores of the Final End. Rivers ran past him, rushing over the precipice, but as Vendrian looked about, he could feel a lingering heat, and see a major depression left in the ground beside him. Soon, he saw a deep and shallow slope carved into the Final End—like someone sheared an entire side off a mountain.
The Scion of Death blinked. “I… how the fuck did that happen?”
“The Duchess was not good at avoiding hits and decided to take her rage out on the scenery to make up for her incompetence.”
Vendrian let out a slight chuckle. And then a surge of life flowed through him, lessening the touch of the Hound, the aching cold of death. His sister arrived, tucked under his arm and—he saw how cracked her edges were, felt the weakness in her spirit. “Mourning…”
“I am fine,” she said, but he could hear the exhaustion in her voice.
He faintly remembered letting her go to aid Wei. Flashes of muted moments returned to him—Lein the last tearing his friend apart; both of them vanishing into the abyss—
“Come on,” Wei said, pulling him along to the distance, toward where they would ascend back to the land of the living. “It is time we are away from this place. And it is time that we speak to a few people. I have a corpse to return.”
“Whose corpse?”
“Lein. The Circle will be interested in learning of her unfortunate fate. I must offer my condolences to the Old Man personally. It is very inauspicious for this to happen during a gala.”
Vendrian couldn’t help it. He started laughing. Even with the heavy coldness still weighing in his chest, even with all he suffered, his fragmented thoughts from serving as host to his father, he had to laugh. “I gotta see this… Gotta see how he responds. He might just shit a brick.” Vendrian’s smile dimmed. “He might start something. You ready for that?”
The young master let the Scion of Death lean on him as they left, but even from behind, Vendrian could see the kid was smiling. “I am about to return the corpse of a Duchess to him. I don’t think he is going to be foolish. Not about this.” Then, Wei’s grin turned into a vicious sneer. “They made a terrible mistake when they brought us into their cage. It isn’t their world anymore.”
Vendrian loved the sound of that.
“Indeed it is not,” Mourning said. “No more slaves. No more masters.”
“No more,” Wei agreed. “I will not waste any time. I want you both to join me—join my sect. My eye has been on you for a while, but I would have taken you even if you lacked power. For this place is an offense to my honor. My sensibilities. And no child should be raised in a realm where sin reigns over righteousness.”
At that, Vendrian thought of his own boy—of the son he still hadn’t given a name yet. “Justice.”
“What?” Wei said, turning to regard Vendrian.
“I think I might call my son Justice.”
The young master cocked his head, considering it. “It’s… blunt. But sometimes blunt is good. Blunt is auspicious. And more importantly, blunt offends the bastards ruling this place. Justice. Justice.” Wei was grinning now. “Justice. I think I would like to meet someone called Justice.”
“You already had,” Vendrian grunted. As he coughed, a few flecks of frost out from his lungs. “He’s going to call you uncle, you know that? And I’m not kissing your ass or calling you patriarch or whatever other bullshit you want.”
“That’s fine, this bitch. Only one of us need a title.”
“...You know what? I should have held my sister tight. I should have never let her go down there and help me, little prick.”
And now it was Wei’s turn to laugh.
For the first time in a long time for Vendrian, life felt good.
***
Wei returned to the gala with a new wind at his back. He was done with this. He was done with pageantry. He was finished with the games. It was time to cement his reputation, and make certain the Claimed Hells understood the price for playing games. He called out the Old Man as he pushed his way through the crowd, caring nothing for who saw him.
The Count did a double take upon his approach, eyes widening in shock as Wei drew closer, Vendrian close behind. “I… Wei? I thought you were—”
“We resolved our differences,” Wei said, casually. “He apologized.”
“For having the larger cock,” Vendrian muttered.
“Brother!” Mourning chastised.
Then, with a burst of force, the young master leap over the gathered Sinners, and slammed down on the dais where the Old Man sat. As he landed, the Count of Pride found himself standing—alert to what was happening, alarmed by the young master’s sudden approach. His alarm turned into a cry out absolute terror as Wei cast out the body of Lein the Last—stripped of her armor, lance, and all other valuables.
“Alas, I do not return bearing auspicious news,” Wei said, not even bothering to put up much of a performance. “I somehow came upon her body. I somehow found her dead. I do not wish to have this incident repeat itself.”
With each word he spoke, the Old Man’s mouth opened and closed, eyes bulging wider as if he refused to comprehend what was lying on the ground before him. The world turned into a sea of undulating webs as messages were cast by all the surrounding Sinners. Soon, rumors and news would spread like wildfire, and all of Preceptor’s Descent would know the name “Wei An Wei.”
“How… how…”
“Let us not delve into such unpleasant things,” Wei said, placing a hand on the Old Man’s back. Slowly, he applied a bit of pressure and bade him to look at Lein. Her body was mangled. Mutilated by the cold, her skull in flaps and pieces after Wei roughly ripped his glaive out from her head. “Such a thought would sour this gala further. And there has been enough death. To lose a Duchess like Lein, a Duke like Goldskull…”
The Old Man’s breaths came faster. His eyes snapped to Wei.
“Oh, yes. He is gone too. It was very tragic. Do not ask me how I know. I am overcome with emotion.” Wei spoke every word as cold and indifferent as he could, hinting at the depths of his lies. The gathered Sinners gasped and gawked in their masses. The smarter ones were staring at Wei, their faces contorting in naked terror and open horror. The fools were still trying to figure out what was happening.
And, sadly, the Old Man was not a fool, so there would be no bliss for him. He turned to look upon Wei with such heavy slowness that he seemed every bit a man his age. As he finally did, the young master met his petrified stare with a cruel smirk of his own. “It is… a most momentous loss we have experienced this day,” Wei continued, patting the Old Man on the back. “A terrible, dreadful loss. Though I did not know either Duke or Duchess well, I understand they were important to the Circle’s hierarchy, and so their deaths will be felt.”
“You…”
“Do not worry,” Wei said, offering a soft sigh. “I will make sure the same fate does not befall you. So long as I am here. So long as you will have me. Though I am but a Marquis, my capabilities exceed my power by far, and thus you must grasp the protection I offer. Do you understand?”
It took a long while for the Old Man to process what Wei was saying, but slowly, he swallowed. By now, the rest of Wei sect had gathered. He caughted faces in the crowd—the joyous expressions of Agnesia and Ellena, Rafael looking at the dead Duchess on the ground, a flash of Bishop among the Sinners, staring on with wide eyes.
“Yes,” the Old Man said, sweating. Even the twin suns hovering over his shoulders began to quiver and shift in hue and color. His spirit itself was shaking. “I thank you for uh… bringing this to my attention.” He cleared his throat and turned upon the Sinners. “Gathered friends. Companions and guest. W-we must give our thanks to our new ally, Wei An Wei of the Drowned Sky Sect for bringing this tragedy to our attention. At the same time, we must—we will have to do everything we can to find the culprits behind the merciless butchering of our esteemed Duke and Duchess.”
Every word he spoke was a lie, but it was a lie spat with conviction and dread. There were Tribulators here, and by all accounts, they would be enough to stop the young master and his companions. But that was the logical outcome.
Logically, there was no way Wei should have beat the Duchess and the Duke.
Logically, Wei should have been stumped by a Count-Tier—yet the Collectress was barely a blip in his mind now.
Logic had little to do with Wei An Wei. Only will. Only skill. Only the intent to rule.
And though the Circle of Pride was built on the ideas of domination, they should understand that facing one that epitomizes their beliefs meant certain war. Because he who wishes to reign and take revenge on the heaven himself would never consent to be ruled in any fashion. Such was the fate of lesser creatures, and Wei An Wei was lesser than no one.
“Alas,” Wei said with a sigh, taking his hand off the Old Man’s back, “I must depart. There are many matters I must attend at my home. My disciples have gone without practice for far too long—” At this, he saw more than a few of his sect members turn pale. A few even began praying. “This cannot wait. I hope my presence has done you honor here, my friend. And in time, if you find the ones that did this, I hope you will tell me. So we can see a final end to these accounts.”
“Yeah,” Vendrian added, his own expression vicious. “We’ll gut the bastards. No matter how many lives it takes.”
“No matter if it takes every last life in the Claimed Hells,” Wei agreed with a nod.
By this point, the Old Man’s legs were shaking. He was wordless and lost in his own mind, and the Sinners were actively backing away from the dias, from Lein’s mangled corpse, from the members of the Drowned Sky Sect.
“Wei… what the fuck did you do?” Bishop sent, his voice one of stunned disbelief.
The young master ignored him for now. Instead, he turned and marched toward his disciples. “Disciples of the Drowned Sky. Let us be away. Leave the Sinners of Pride to grieve over the loss of their own. And—” Wei stopped someone he wanted to talk to in the crowd. Someone actively trying to hide from him now. “Mulver!” The orc looked like he repainted his pants. “Ah. I have been wishing to speak with you more. Come. Let us talk on the way back to my place. It is the old Inheritor’s embassy. Do you know that?”
“I—” Wei pushed through the crowds and seized Mulver by the upper arm and guided him through the parting hordes of people. The orc kept turning, shooting desperate glances at the Old Man, but the Count was fixated on Lein’s body. Slowly, the Old Man’s legs gave completely, and he crashed back down on his throne. None of the demons in the room were moving around—they were staring as well, frozen in place as if statues within a silent hall.
That was the thing that pleased Wei the most. The silence. He left this place in silence. They had no more spit to spray at him, no more sweet lies and honeyed venom. No more plots and schemes and other absurdities to offend his senses. Everything was different now. They thought this was to be a game of politics and deception? No. He would not allow it.
There would be a price to pay from this sooner or later. But it was a price that Wei welcomed. It would be a price he enjoyed. And this would offer more opportunity than obstacle, judging from how the other Circles might react as well.
“You simply must see how I train the others, Mulver. I am beginning to devise new training plans. To make strong even the weakest Sinner. In fact, I would like you to participate when we return. To demonstrate how we fought the first time, and the mistakes I have made.”
“Well… that’s… I got responsibilities… the Old Man—”
“Will understand,” Wei said.
As Wei enjoyed subtly exerting his pressure on the orc, Rafael glided beside him with Agnesia and Ellena in tow. “Wei. My friend… what is happening?”
Wei grinned at them, and offered two responses. “We’re making new friends and leaving our hosts to their grief.” Then came his message. “Rafael. I am tired of this place and its madness. It is time we kill the boar-ga-gesse and seize their spirits for our own.”
The lich did a double take before replying. “You mean the bourgeois?”
“Yes. The strange word you keep saying before cursing.”
Suddenly, Rafael spun to the other side of the orc and placed a skeletal hand on his shoulder. “Yes. Well. Think of all the things you can discover, dear Groon. Our facilities are new, but we think this is a good moment for building a relationship.”
“Wei,” Agnesia said, now her turn to ask the same question, “What is happening?”
“Progress and freedom, dear Agnesia,” the young master sighed. “Progress and freedom. But first: home. Then, to the Base. There are others we need to invite to a little gathering of our own.”
“Others?”
“Yes. Do you know what a gun is, Agnesia? And would you like more Aspect Advancements? Wait, how about we finish with your specialization evolution first?”
With each word, the girl got more and more excited. “I—yes. But, what about this?” She asked, gesturing at the staring crowd.
“Oh,” Wei chuckled. “They haven’t seen anything yet. It is only going to get better. For us. Maybe not them. Especially for some other people.”
