Brent Stinebaker
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II-36Notoriety
🕑 Added 2024-12-14 16:13:51 +0000 UTCThe best way to climb the popularity ladder in the Claimed Hells?
Easy. Knock off someone everyone hates. Or cut down someone powerful. That always gets you noticed.
Now for the downside: Sometimes, you really don’t want to be noticed…
-Guide to the Claimed Hells
II-36
Notoriety
In the end, Wei slew Countess Many-wed over 108 times.
108 times, he brought her to the brink of death. 108 times, he used his flames of creation to mend her, ignoring her pleas for mercy, only to smite her once more for the inconvenience caused by her incompetence.
With each session, the crowds grew louder. Strings of Essence slithered overhead—messages exchanged. As he fought, his name became the voice of the world, the Sinners of Cherub’s Corpse chanting it as if a prayer, calling for him to indulge in new depravities.
But he ignored them. He just wanted to use her as a means to hone himself; to teach the Claimed Hells a lesson about who he was, what he was capable.
By the end, she didn’t even fight at all—a final insult toward his dedication. She simply cast down her wand as her legs gave out, and finally begged for death. Death, because her pride could take no more.
He granted her request, and gave her a final mercy. As she lay there bleeding, severed of limbs and seared of flesh and alloyed, she looked up at him, her eyes dry of tears and devoid of light. When he swiped his glaive across her neck for the final time, it was not triumph he felt, but muted weariness.
How disappointing. The Celestial Vanguard had dulled these lesser foes.
Class Level > 84
Free Points: [20]
Authority Advanced > 74 (3)
Relativity Advanced > 77 (4)
Omniscience > 58 (2)
Fortification > 49
[57/100] Aspect Advancements to Core Ascension.
Reviewing Encounter
Masteries Demonstrated
>Meditation (IV) — 1%
>Unarmed Combat (IV) — 4%
>Spearmanship (IV) — 4%
>Evasion (V) — 8%
>Thrown Weapons (III) — 94%
>Tactics (IV) — 93%
>Rapier — 93%
Attention: New Title Synergy Detected
Achievement: Defeat an adversary at least two Essence Tiers above your own.
Concept Core of (Augmentation)
>Title
>>Face the Mountains — When facing a foe fifty or more Essence Levels higher than yourself, gain 20% Strength and Speed along with 5% Toughness.
+20,000 Significance
At least the entire affair wasn’t entirely worthless.
Beheading Many-wed sent a shiver down his spine. For a moment, he saw a flashback of Ellena—of her as mother. And then nothing. Nothing anymore.
He focused on his System and Class notifications. Reviewed his changes. And took her discarded wand.
Wand of the Composer (Epic): [Locked due to Class Specialization: Requires Musical-Related Essence]
Musical-related Essence?
“Though we are not of no talent with a zither, I suspect this will serve another of our sect better.” the Shell muttered.
Indeed. But still. This wasn’t a complete waste. After all that blood spilled and the tedious battle thereafter, it was good to claim something.
“And… and… holy shit,” the announcer muttered. Their voice was a low drone, and arrived suddenly. It was as if the announcer suddenly remembered they had to officiate affairs. Spurred by their words, Wei heard roaring cheers, mutters, and sussurations of conversations washing over his ears.
If they were so excited by his savagery against this worthless competitor, then he could only imagine how enticed they might be when a proper fight was put on.
Wei took in the Bloodgrounds, gazing at all corners of the arena, and let out a snort. Rabble seemed to be the same everywhere.
“I—I give you your winner. The—the winner of this legally recognized dispute. Wei An Wei of the Drowned Sky Sect! Wei An Wei the… the Count-Breaker. No! The Breaker!”
The Breaker?
“It is… acceptable,” the Shell said, still sounding slightly disappointed. “We do indeed break things. It fits better than they know.”
Golden chains descended from on high and layered themselves over the Countess’s body. Wei watched as the Tribulator descended, hovering just over her. “The matter has been resolved through the outcome of the Countesses death. Have you achieved your desired legal restitution?”
“Indeed,” Wei said. A beat followed. “Although, I would not be against keeping her body. That armor she has—”
“You are not permitted to take anything else,” the Tribulator said. “There are already arrangements made for her body and her items. By law, they belong to her Circle, to be reimbursed and distributed in the event of her death.”
“Truly,” Wei said, arcing an eyebrow. “I hadn’t anticipated the Countess to be so forward-thinking about her own demise.”
The Tribulator did not respond. Instead, it continued staring at Wei. Functionally, this conversation was over.
The young master considered pushing the matter for a long moment, but decided against it. Though he managed to dance the edge against a fool of a Countess, a Tribulator was on another level entirely. A level Wei wasn’t ready to risk.
Yet.
With that… with that, Wei froze. He realized he didn’t know how to leave this place.
With that, he turned, marching—but then he realized he had nowhere to go.
The bloodgrounds furled all around him, all the way to the horizon. Beyond the fields of ash, he could see the rising stands, feel the shimmer of spatial essence dancing like a mirage, shrouding the countless crowds. But no gates or doors. No obvious exit.
Finally, he looked up and inquired, “Announcer! Voice! How do I leave?”
His answer did not come in a statement, but rather in an opening.A rift materialized before him. Wei judged it, using his Omniscience to confirm its stability, before simply offering a nod. “My thanks, then.”
Before stepping through, he gave the Bloodgrounds one final look, and left with a final statement. “I am unsatisfied. And I will return. I only ask that there is a better caliber of enemy waiting here thereafter.”
A moment’s silence, then roaring laughter; cheering.
The effect has been met twice over. People will be talking about him now. If that was loud enough to get him closer to the Bastard or one of the other challengers, Wei didn’t know. He would work on his Significance more in due time.
He entered the rift. Darkness swallowed him, but only momentarily.
A second later, a portal opened, and as he slipped through the opening, he found himself standing before the brutalized corpse of a now-dead werewolf.
Its skin was degloved, its flesh bloated, its fur half-shorn off. Despite this, there was less gore and more sugar and candy leaking out from the mangled remains.
All around it stood his disciples, each of them holding implements of death, of torture, and in one case, a particularly well-sprinkled cupcake.
Agnesia turned on Wei first, placing her hands upon her hips. “I knew you were gonna get us into another fight, you bastard,” she laughed. “I knew it!”
Wei looked at all his disciples, most of them snorting, scoffing, and grinning at him. “All this was expected?” The young master wasn’t sure how to take that. “I… you all anticipated this?”
“Wei…” Roggi began. “You got habits, lad. Now, I can’t quite blame you for it, considering we’re in Hell and all, but… you’re, uh… pretty predictable.”
“Seriously, boy,” Garret, the Shadow Archer, finished. “Everything you get involved with ends in blood and death. You really should get better hobbies.”
Wei didn’t know how to respond to that, nor to the flippant attitude some of his disciples were taking toward him. Instead, he parried, moving on to another topic.
He gestured at the dead werewolf. “Many-wed’s minion, I assume.” The young master frowned. “I do wish you kept him alive. It would be useful to interrogate the scoundrel. But…” Wei considered the scene of them stomping the assassin over and over again. There was a lack of technique, but plenty of aggression and brutality. These were good foundations. “The fact you did not need me to aid you is comforting.”
The orc chef chuckled. “Yeah. We really got this guy good, huh?”
There was one question Wei did want to ask. “Why is he fat? And why his skin half flayed?”
The orc chef looked at him and winced. “Oh, that. I fed him my ‘Blow Your Skin Off’ Hyper-Sugar Cupcake.” He held up his cupcake and shook it. Wei could feel a stinging sweetness radiating from its cream, practically taste the sour from the sprinkles.
The young master blinked. “You killed him with food?”
“Yeah. His heart popped. Rafael said so.”
The lich gave Wei a nod. “It is very calorie-intensive. He got diabetes in record time. And then, his body became as if a banana.”
The young master didn’t fully understand what diabetes was, but the rest of that sentence made him shiver. “I have underestimated you, chef. Truly, your style is one to dread.”
The orc beamed. “Aw, thanks chef.”
“I look forward to seeing what else you can show me tomorrow morning during practice.” The orc’s smile vanished. Pure terror replaced it. “All of you. Do not worry, though.” Wei chuckled. “I have more means of motivation. Artifacts and other rewards for those who perform well. New armors for the victors. New weapons for those who need them. In fact, when the rest of the fights are over, we are bound for the markets! For your demonstration of valor, I will get you all anything you so desire.”
Ellena winced. “Perhaps… within reason.”
“Anything!” Wei said. The point of wealth was to use it. To gather more resources for cultivation and advancement. Why else have gold and valuables if they cannot be made into items and services?
“It is time to do my part to remove us from the wrong economic class,” Rafael said, with resolve.
Attention, Patriarch Wei An Wei," the Attendant within the viewing platform spoke.
Wei’s attention turned to the demon, and his eyes narrowed. “Oh, you’re still here. I did not notice you. Tell the arena I have a complaint: You missed the intruder. I expect you to be brutally lashed for your failures. Three hundred times at least.”
“Of course, sir. We are sorry for the inconvenience, sir. However, there is a message from the Midnight Sage. Would you like me to relay it to you?”
Wei didn’t even need to consider that question. “No. I don’t know this Midnight Sage.”
Several heads turned to him.
“What?” Agnesia said.
Ellena tilted her head. “Didn’t you leave specifically to talk to him?”
Wei scowled. “I went to speak to a cultivator. One from my homeworld. I found none. The Midnight Sage is a drunk, simply masquerading, using the title for his own prestige. As he was too pitiful to kill, I spared his life. He and I should never meet again, for the next time, I will not be so merciful.”
Agnesia shot Wei a slightly worried expression, but the former queen shook her head and whispered for her daughter to let it go.
“Young Master Wei,” the attendant said again. “There is another matter—”
“I already told the Midnight Sage,” Wei interrupted, “I have no intention of meeting him.”
“This message is from the Old Man. A count of the Circle of Pride.”
“The Old Man…” Wei paused.
Was Mulver here? The Count as well. Did they have eyes on him already.
“Yes, of course. My apologies. What does he want?” Wei asked.
“He wishes to send you a formal invite to a gala at his personal mansion tomorrow in the Risen Throne—the capital of the Circle of Pride. Furthermore, he offers his expression of astonishment and congratulations in your most audacious victory. He stresses that a great many figures of significance will be in attendance, and that he senses an expression of dissatisfaction with the Countess’s performance. He thinks he might be able to offer you something more filling.”
A series of expression played across his disciple. Agnesia looked wary. The Oathbearers were on alert. Rafeal seemed nervous with his posture, but Ellena surprised Wei with her statement. “We should attend.” Wei stared at her, taken aback by her declaration. “It is a unique opportunity to further entrench ourselves with the elites of this place.”
“Mother,” Agnesia said, clearly uneasy. “These are… demon lords. Surely, they cannot be—”
“Trust?” Ellena barked a shrill laugh. “Of course not. I am half certain this Count will try to kill us at some point. However… we are already being hunted. And we cannot play the outcast if we wish to take the role of master. And though Wei has earned merits through his martial prowess, it takes more than the blade to reign over another.”
“Her words hold a great deal of truth,” the Shell said.
The young master nodded after a moment’s hesitation. “Very well. Attendant. Give word to the Count. Tell him to expect—” He looked at his disciples. “Tell him to expect us.”
“Oh,” Agnesia grinned. “We’re finally getting invited to something.”
***
Scenes of succulent brutality played out before the Collectress. Within her den of love and lust, a screen floated before her, formed of Essence, playing scenes of a most unbelievable kind. She watched as this so-called Wei An Wei, known to the sinners of Cherub’s Corpse as the Breaker, hurt, flayed, wounded, and ultimately brutalized Countess Many-wed.
Oh, Manywed. For so many years, she had been the Collectress’s rival—or thought herself to be. Ultimately, she was a lovestruck fool, consumed by an urge to possess, to keep art away from others in the hopes of filling that hole in her chest.
A hole the young master was making and healing over and over again with that burning blade of his.
If the Collectress wasn’t mistaken, that was a Celestial Vanguard-inspired classification. She hadn’t seen that in years. In fact, she didn’t know that someone in the Claimed Hells could obtain such a class. How fascinating.
Ultimately, however, she was interested in another thing: the way he fought, with such precision, such exquisite beauty. It was enough to get her flustered. The Collectress shifted, the chains connecting to her body rattling, and slowly she pulled one of her Loveslaves over.
“Yes, Garlin,” she purred.
The boy had been neglected too long. With a wiggle of her finger, she inspired his senses, sharpened his ardor, and overflowed the very lust that kindled in his stomach. He crawled on all fours, coming to her like a base animal.
For that’s all he was: a base animal to her whims.
And through it all, the rest of her belongings fanned her. Especially Aerea. Sweet, sweet Aerea and the fate child in her womb.
Far across her cavernous chamber, she laid her eyes on her most prized possession: The child’s father. To so-called Bastard. Howls of exertion and brutality played out before her as he slashed, tore, bit, and gouged his way through another one of her challenges. Right now, his fur was aglow with moonlight, and the touch of a most ancient Essence lit his body with a silvery sheen as he ripped another wyvern in half.
With a wave of her hand, she summoned more. A hydra emerged from a portal; a land dragon blinked next to the Bastard; a dozen demons entered the fray. Through it all, his blade never stopped moving, shining, singing.
As her champion slaughtered, she leveled her screen and compared his performance to the young master. Bursts of celestial fire were matched against beams of lunar radiance.
After a moment, she spoke. “Aerea. Do you think your lover can contend with this one.”
The woman who oh-so-recently fancied herself an explorer and not a prized mare could barely meet the Collectress’s gaze. But as she swallowed, her jaw tightened, and she simply nodded. “Yes.”
“Why? This one is so skilled. Many-wed, though a fool girl, was a Count in terms of Essence.”
“It will not be enough,” Aerea said. A slight smile passed over her face. “It is never enough.”
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