Brent Stinebaker
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II-98 The Last of Her Lein (I)
🕑 Added 2025-05-07 18:11:44 +0000 UTC“You were a fool to come into my den, boy. Fool greater than most to seek your own end. Many have come to slay me, and many begged as my claws tore their flesh and found where their spirits begin to bend.”
“I am only fool if I fall, and fool if I fail. But fool though I might be, you will not find bend in me; you will not hear me wail. For killing those men made you monster-beyond-tiger, and so slaying you will make me something more than a man.”
“Then, come, boy, and let us see who will remain—the one who hungers for glory, or the beast that find succor in pain.”
-”The Hero and the Monster,” Old Evernest Fable
II-98
The Last of Her Lein (I)
“What? What the fuck are you talking about? You talked him into facing another Duke head on? What the fuck is wrong with you? What—No. No, goddammit. Take me to him. Now.”
Mepheleon developed a cheshire smile while William Yu raged at him. Oh, to see a man so torn, pulled in all these different directions. Mepheleon had known lost and confused souls, but this one was especially delicious. William Yu: assassin, thief, agent, traitor, father, husband, and general fool who didn’t know who he really was. Mepheleon loved men like him. In fact, men like William were the entire reason why Mepheleon got to where he was today.
After all, every great spider needs help to run their web, and who better than the deluded and the multi-faced; those who imagine themselves to be so many other people, and yet never truly understand who they are within.
“I am afraid not,” Mepheleon sighed, sauntering around the raging Trespasser as he took in the rest of MacArthur’s office. The General was stone-still, like some kind of prey animal avoiding the notice of a terrible beast. Because that was what Mepheleon was to him: a walking calamity. “Wei needs more encouragement. You should know this. He needs to go further, to dream big, and live free. He is young! How can we let the future generation limit themselves so? To be timid and miserable?”
“You are trying to get him to fucking kill himself,” William shouted. His fists were balled, and his heart was pounding. His dark eyes burned with worry and hate and oh, this was all so good.
Mepheleon gave a dramatic sigh. “Worry not. I suspect that before this is over, it will be Lein’s final act, rather than your son being the one to fall. But more importantly, he wants this. He can have this. But you are afraid. Because he might die.” And that made Mepheleon laugh. “And you were trying to kill him not to long ago. But now… now that you aren’t the one doing it, suddenly, everything is harder.”
William suppressed a series of expressions. He took a step closer to Mepheleon, who seemed altogether unimpressed by the man’s attempt at intimidation. “Take me to him. Now. He needs to hear from someone—”
“Who is a greater fool than he is?” Mepheleon tutted. “No, no, no. You will only distract him. In fact, I am only here to inform you about what he is doing, and what will likely follow after. The boy will likely declare his own force, his own faction. And.” Mepheleon turned his attention to the General. “He will need forces. Support. Allies. And guns.”
The Harbinger sauntered around MacArthur’s office, taking in the design. It was awfully much like the man’s office in Japan. Even here, after all this time, there was a still a feeling for the man: “The Emperor of America.” Alas, it was an ugly thing, being unable to let go of the past. But that was useful. Especially for Wei. He would need someone to tell him how to conquer Earth—and someone noteworthy to help him hold it against all adversaries.
“Esteemed Harbinger, might I ask something.” Mepheleon eyed Kalrus and smirked.
“Hm? You’re interested in why I’m involving all of you in my plans? Why I’m telling you of my overt machinations?”
The orc’s mouth fell slightly agape. “I… yes, perhaps.”
“Because this is a special circumstance. I am not taking a side among my Circles. I am not expressing favoritism. No. This is simply another punishment I am inflicting upon the Inheritors. They sought to continue their games—but they overreached. And Lein was too loud in the end, unable to hide her true loyalty. This is retribution. And preparation for what is to come.”
“And what is to come?” MacArthur asked.
“Oh, dear would you look at the time,” Mepheleon said, pulling a burning pocketwatch out of nowhere. “I need to go corrupted a certain Angelic being in a newly discovered realm. Never a dull moment, is there?”
“What is to come?” MacArthurt insides, glaring at Mepheleon from beneath his glasses. “Answer me you—”
And then Mepheleon was gone. Vanished in a blink and a laugh, leaving them alone with a final echoing farewell. “Go see out your son when this done, William. If you wish to play father, now is the time to do it. He might not forgive you, but he will still need your mind before all is done. General. Talk with the Lodge, and see about what arrangement you can come to for arms. They will be most necessary soon. For your soldiers, and the sect that will soon be allied with you…”
Then, there was silence. MacArthur stared at William stared at Kalrus. Then, the General scoffed. He pulled the pipe out of his mouth and chucked it on his desk with disdain. “Sarah Moonscar just shot me a message. She tells me to watch myself. Because the Harbinger might be coming for a visit.”
“Things are in motion,” Kalrus muttered. He shook his head and looked to the General. “I think we might need to accelerate our schedules, General.”
“Yeah. I think we need to have a deeper discussion with the boy about what we all want, and what we can provide each other. The Harbinger is assuming a lot if he thinks we’re just going to be working together with the Lodge without—”
The General fell silent, and then he scowled.
“General?” Kalrus asked.
“I just got some names… and information relating to where they spend their time, and when it’s best to hit them. Names of our rivals in the Circle of Wrath.” He let out a breath. “Moonscar is dangling bait, trying to get us to play ball. She’s also offering us… well, hell, that’s a lot of Earth-sourced alloys.”
With each exchange, William felt more in the dark, more behind. Things were rolling. Multiple powers were making their play—and the Harbinger was more overt than ever. The process of Hell’s Vanguard was still underway, but it seemed that matters needed to be decided soon. Something was happening beyond the Claimed Hells. William could feel it. The Inheritors, Unfallen, and the Dying Queen were all in motion.
So the Harbinger had to be as well.
But the worst thing about all of this was Wei. He was becoming everyone’s weapon, becoming the Harbinger’s perfect pawn. William had lived this life long enough to know his flaws and limits, but he also knew that his boy had no chance against the machinations of Mepheleon. A Duke of the Claimed Hells… in direct combat.
But Wei did prevail against the Celestial Vanguard. He overcame so many things.
A burst of sour pain washed through the Trespasser. Fuck. His son was supposed to be dead. Dead by his hand. Dead on Evernest along with his wife and sect. Instead he was… William didn’t know what he was anymore. He just knew that this was part of his doing. If he had only…
Only what? Served the Inheritors better? Been a better lapdog? Listened to his heart? Chosen love over the job? What was the right thing to do? What is the right thing to do right now?
“Fuck,” William said. “I need… I need…” He messaged Bishop. “Bishop. I need you to get me into the Collectress’s nest.”
A reply came almost instantly. “No can do right now, Billy. I gotta keep up appearances. But I don’t think you need to worry.”
“Wei is about to do some bullshit suicide run against a Duke of Hell. He’s going to—”
“Sarah sent John Doe and everyone’s least favorite surgeon. They’ll be observing. They’ll make sure this ends the way we want. No matter what happens.”
“And can they do that before Lein rips Wei in half?”
A pause. “You know something, William. I don’t rightly know if she’s going to be the one that does the ripping in the end. I got a feeling he’s about to make us all eat shit again.”
William didn’t want to take that bet. He really didn’t. But then, when was someone supposed to bet on Wei? When was the situation good for the kid. “Fuck me. Just… fuck.”
***
The Old Man folded in little time when Lein unleashed the fullness of her power. Essence billowed out from her in angry waves, and the Sinners caught in her vicinity found their flesh flayed from bone. Too shocked where they to call in their laws, and too sudden was her approach that none could find her afterward to finish accounts before she was gone.
Her lance was summoned. Her words were few. But of the things she spoke, only this phrase mattered: “Find me a way to the Collectress, or I will burn all I have to tear you from our Circle.”
The Old Man was not fool, greedy and conniving though he was. He knew her words to be festering with rage and intent, and in little time, she was away. She barely spared a look at the so-called young master’s companions: the lich, the deposed queen, and a few others were looking at her with dread. They were likely informing the boy about what was happening. She cared little. In that moment, the only thing that mattered was finding Goldskull and bringing him home.
If she couldn’t…
Then the Claimed Hells was due for a true bloodletting.
A special rift activated within the Collectress’s Lovenest. A rift leading to a private set of chambers guarded by a dozen or so demonic serpents. They were surprised at Lein’s sudden appearance, though their surprise lessened when the Old Man followed her in thereafter. Surprise was the last thing they knew when Lein let her spirit rage. The billowing waves turned to tides of destruction. The room around her shattered apart as gold and black flames tore through the fabric of matter and reality.
The Old Man cried out and flinched back. His twin suns flared and formed a radiant shield around him. She cared little if he followed. She cared little for anything beyond her objective.
“Hekon! To me!” Her voice echoed across dimensions, and from within her lance exploded a rush of flame connected to its Concept Core. From within a space born of absolute destruction came a beast shaped from the darkest flame. It phoenix of a nightmarish birthing; its body leaking magma and blood, riven with wounds and viscera. Yet, though it wailed in pain, it never died, for it healed as fast as it burned, and it would not fall until her lance’s core was shattered.
As it spread its wings, the rift leading to the room closed, and all that surrounded Lein evaporated. Stones rose as steam, and the remains of the demons she slew faded into dust outright. Hekon was a twelve-meter-long beast—far larger than the dimensions of the room. But that mattered little when matter itself succumbed to the flexing of its wings. She mounted her steed, and she spurred it forth, vaporing a hollow tunnel through the Collectress’s abode. If the little Countess of Lust wished to make a legal matter of this later, then so be it. For now, Lein would go as she pleased.
Lein and Hekon tore through the insides of the Collectress’s home like a wildfire consumed parchments of paper. Demonic defenders sallied to discover who was attacking them now—and then came apart as clouds of ash as she drew close. She moved faster, becoming as if a comet drilling a hole through every obstacle before her. Slaves dissolved. Demons died. The interior of the Collectress’s home turned to slag. The temperature was climbing to unbearable levels. If a Knight-Tier was present, their lungs would likely be fried; their eyes dried and their skin burning.
It took little time for Lein to burst out from the maze of rooms and emerge in the central spine of the Collectress’s domain. The Duchess of Pride kept her senses wide, seeking out any anomaly worthy of attention. And then she found it. Rising from the depths of the Lovenest, she stared up past all the bridges and signatures, and felt a spot of deathly coldness at the very top.
Her gut clenched. The worst of her fears were growing truer and truer. That frost… that chill was something only Vendrian was capable of. No one else could inflict that on the world. And that mean that the Collectress was likely dead.
Hekon exploded upward with a flap of its wings. A wave of fire rose behind it, Lein shaping massive tower-size lances from the inferno trailing behind her. The phoenix’s Essence spread an infectious blaze. With everything thing it consumed, Lein felt her power growing, felt the Scorn within her roar to new heights.
Soon, she would bring her complete power to bear against that miserable cur—that Scion of Death. If anything happened to her Goldskull…
She mastered herself. No. She needed to focus. He was likely fine. Why would he be targeted? At most he would be trapped. He was powerful enough to survive this—the Hound wouldn’t attack someone that isn’t marked for death. As she climbed, the burning wall followed her, consuming each bridge, every slave, every demon caught in its wake.
Finally, she reached the top, the tip of an erupting spear hovering just over a cocoon of dense deathly frost. It was a testament to the Scion’s power that she could feel her Essence—her very life get sapped away from her current distance. But even so, she had more than enough power to spare. He might be unique, but he was just a Marquis at best. She was a Duchess of Hell, and there was a world of power between them.
With a contemptuous jab, she thrust her lance outward, and flames composing Hekon and the blaze it ignited poured into her weapon. A beam of impossible heat speared out, coiling and punching deep against the cocoon of frost. A crack sounded across reality, and slowly, the Deathly Frost began to fracture, melt, and break. A fissure formed, and Lein bade her mount to pry it open, to force their way in, and seek what was hers.
If she was of a calm mind, she would have waited and sent in another summon to survey the situation. If she was patient, she might have sensed another signature—one that fit the hollow oblivion of Source. But she was neither of these things, and so into the den she went, seeking her love, but fated to find death.
And an adversary waiting to claim her life for glory.
