Brent Stinebaker
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II-34Humiliation (III)
🕑 Added 2024-12-09 10:46:29 +0000 UTCWhat do you mean the boy is fighting Many-wed? He just got to Preceptor’s Descent. It’s barely been a day—what do you mean people are betting in his favor? And he’s finished the Lodge? Those Hollowborn fools tried to assassinate him?
I—Get Mulver down there! Now! Tell him to protect the investment at all—Ah, never mind. I’m going myself.
-Message from The Old Man, Count of Pride
II-34
Humiliation (III)
Class Level > 83
Free Points: [0]
Strength - 988
Speed - 742
Enlightenment - 682
Awareness - 695
Constitution - 589
Will - 764
Wei examined his new aspect's advancements while testing his feral weave. He shaped it into a myriad of forms, creating blades and bludgeons, layers of segemented armor across his body, or clawed hands extending from his limbs. While he tested his newest Artifact in anticipation of the duel to come, Countess Many-wed sent message after message, threads of essence slipping out from her as she kept her hateful gaze fixed on Wei.
Far above, the Tribulator lingered, the only spot of golden brightness amidst a sky filled with hanging bodies. As soon as Harbinger’s master of laws released the Countess, they set about accelerating her bout with Wei. An unceasing crash of noise cascaded down from the crowds, their whispers and sentences endless, rumors beginning to spread. With millions watching, Wei expected his notoriety to climb rapidly. Already, one of his goals was being met.
However, he hadn’t come here to create a halfway legend. No, he was going to leave a bone-deep wound on the Claimed Hells. And to do that, a knight needed to break a Count.
The announcer offered a deluge of half-hearted apologies, promising rebates and free tickets to those inconvenienced. The brief lull did not last long. As the announcer came back once again, he declared a change to the schedule, with a new main event being put in place. He described it as a surprise, gifted on behalf of the Circle of Envy to the Sinners of Cherub’s Corpse. The bribery nearly made Wei snort. It seemed that all worlds were the same when it came to political influence and personal power. When you had enough of either, you could make anything happen. And soon, all the prestige that belonged to Many-wed would be taken by the young master himself.
A call notification popped up for Wei. He saw it was from John Bishop. Curious, he responded.
"You know, some of us were expecting you to keep a low profile. Take a look at the towns, other sites. Acclimate yourself to the Claimed Hells first," Bishop said.
"Is that not what I’m doing?" Wei replied.
"No, what you’re apparently doing is trying to get yourself killed fighting a Countess two whole Tiers stronger than you. Or so, some people think."
"What do you think?" Wei asked.
John Bishop chuckled. "Well, I think the Circle of Envy might be about to lose a Countess, but I also think that you want to be very, very careful with this one. She isn’t your run-of-the-mill killer with a sword. Most of the threats you’ve faced so far have been, I’d say, in the material realm of threat. People trying to kill you physically, and mentally sometimes. She’s got a whole suite of bullshit.”
"I know," Wei replied. "I noticed her manipulating sounds earlier. Her melodies corroded my flesh, burned my armor. My guess is that she uses music to shape her spiritual techniques."
"That’s just the surface," Bishop said. "But she’s also got other shit going on under the hood, so to speak." He paused, thoughtful. "Do you want me to tell you, or do you want to figure her out yourself?"
A disquieted Wei realized how well Bishop understood him. Perhaps years spent working with William Yu gave the man some insight. That epiphany only spurred Wei further. A good thing he was about to have an outlet.
"No," Wei replied, letting out a vicious chuckle. "I prefer to solve my own puzzles."
“Alright. Don’t get killed; take this fight seriously.”
“I take all my fights seriously.”
Just then, the announcer’s voice returned. "Ahem. Sinners of Cherub’s Corpse, we formally apologize for any and all delays you’ve experienced. I’m sure you’re excited after this, uh..." He paused, trying to find the words. "This exciting turn of events..."
The announcer didn’t sound fully convinced that the events were truly exciting, but Wei didn’t much care. People were talking, and he would give them a show soon enough.
"The, uh, surprising death of Countess Many-wed’s champion, Silt of Storms, and the declaration made by the challenger... The Countess has, um, implored the arena to give her a chance at settling matters formally—legally. Overseeing this fight is the special guest, the Tribulator of the Cherub’s Court. And... and also, the other fights will be, uh, postponed, though adjustments have been made. We are, uh, sad to inform that Silt of Storms versus Midnight Sage has been canceled due to one of the contestants dying prematurely."
Wei smirked.
"In its place, however, we’ve included a new—" The announcement broadcast crackled with apprehension. "What the fuck do I even call this thing? Ah, yes. A trial by combat!"
"Trial by combat!" The announcer repeated, sounding more confident this time. "At the special request of Countess Many-wed, and I’m sure that the challenger is already raring to go, considering he’s the one who provoked this in the first place, the fight is to take place immediately in the same arena without any period of recovery given to either combatant. Is... is this acceptable?"
Wei smirked as he gave his reply. "If the Countess has another embarrassment of a champion for me to wet my glaive on, I will gladly kill them too."
The Countess said nothing. Instead, Wei felt a building flood of Essence pour out from her, a distant din of held notes and dissonant pitches ringing from within her alloyed thorax. It sounded like she had a full orchestra caged within her physical shell.
"And Countess?"
Another message left Many-wed, and the announcer went silent.
"I have just received her confirmation, and I did not mean any disrespect. Well, then… I… suppose I should announce the… the beginning of this… Trial by Combat.” The announcer coughed, and a mutter escaped them. “The fuck is even happening.”
Cheers did not roar from the audience, nor did the whispers stop. It seemed like everyone was still too stunned, taken aback by the intense transpiring before their eyes. Perhaps it was Wei’s boldness. Perhaps it was how easily Manywed agreed to his deliberate provocation. Whatever the case, the scene before them was clear: a supposed knight, who had just arrived in Perceptor’s Descent a mere day ago, was now preparing to challenge a Countess of Envy after intruding on her personal feud and slaying her champion.
"I will not kill you, boy," the Countess finally said, seething with every word. "I’m going to take your limbs from you. I’m going to carve out your tongue. I’m going to take everything except for an eye, an ear, and I’m going to lay you upon my armor so that everyone can hear you whimper, so that everyone can see what happens to those who dare test me."
“Is that happening after my decorative castration?” Wei replied sardonically. “Or have you changed your mind already?”
She held up her wand. Oscillating waves pulsed out through the air, carrying glowing musical notes infused with inimical Essence. Wei felt a brief spike of something slam against his Ambition, and frowned to hide his discomfort.
Resisting [Tune of the Hewn Mind] with Aspects of (Ambition)...
>Resisted
"Wonderful. Another mind-warrior." Now he understood why Bishop was going to warn him that what he faced right now was likely closer to psionic than actually physical.
"Good." His Shell appeared, speaking from within. "Experiencing the variety of opponents is the only way to grow. There is little worth in being a halfway warrior."
True words. The young master was looking forward to this.
Wei raised his Eidolon and prepared himself. A hailstorm of Dilation-Echoes tickled through his being, granting portents of what was to come The Countess, like her Champion, was the impatient sort. His glimpse ahead into the future showed attacks streaking out from her wand, every note a threat vector of sound and Essence. Soon, the world would be consumed by her melodies, and she would drown with a deluge of overwhelming Essence.
It was a viable strategy — she had Essence to spare. However, it was also sloppy, impatient, wasteful.
And easily intercepted.
Especially by a defensive screen composed of Divine Wind.
“Then, without further ado, let the blood flow!” And with the announcer's riotous declaration, the battle began.
The Countess let out a shriek But it was Wei who struck first. Wei, who immediately triggered his new Artifact’s Railblade Slash. Wei, who fired himself across the battlefield in a blast of Celestial Lightning, ushering a stormwall of Divine Wind. Wei, who upon getting within fifty meters of Many-wed, launched his Lance of Annihilation—and melded into the winds chasing him with Essenceshift.
A celestial missile the size of a small tower blasted forth ahead of the young master. It left a trail of coruscating flame upon the fabric of space and as the Countess deluge of musical notes erupted from her wand, they barely made it more than a few meters before disintegrating outright—rupturing pockets of Essence forming across the battlefield.
Immediately, Many-wed was on the back foot, and she responded shamefully. Flailing; skittering back. Each of her attacks could twist flesh and poison the soul, but she allowed him to close so easily; she betrayed her rank inexperience when it came to matters of war. But an incredible rush of power radiated out from her, and Wei left nothing to chance.
He shifted again, turning from wind to crystal, plunging into the ashen ground, tearing through the undead as he accelerated beneath Many-wed’s feet. The sounds above were muffled. Immediately, he felt her influence over him lessen. All the while, he kept careful watch with his Omniscience—waited to see if she would survive his lance.
Annihilation closed on the Countess. A meter away, it was clear she had no chance to dodge. But then Countess did something unexpected: her mechanical thorax expanded, its insides bursting open like a flower unfurling. Suddenly, Wei felt thirty new Essences signatures emerge. Thirty Essence Signatures tied to thirty men. Melodic tethers ran through these men, making them seem as fruits on a needle and thread. All of them were drained of Essence and physique, bound to the Countess in ways inexorable and absolute.
Time itself seemed to slow as Many-wed held out her arms.
"Oh, husbands mine," she proclaimed, her voice ringing across existence like a resonant bell. "As I am bound to you, so too are you bound to me."
The Lance struck. A detonation of celestial fire spread for good kilometer across the battlefield, consuming the countess and everything around her. When the brightness faded, Wei found himself at 12% Scorn. 12% Scorn, and Many-wed entirely find. She stood in a deep crater of his making, except for a single difference.
One of the men tied to her dissolved away, joining the ash. A shift of Essence told Wei had just happened—he died in her place. His spirit sacrificed to preserve hers.
“I think,” the Shell muttered. “These… they are her husbands. This would have been the fate of the Sage’s son.”
At once the twenty-nine surviving husbands of Selv Many-wed began to sing, from them came a harmonious song, their blending Essences gushing into her body, infusing her with greater might. Wings shaped from musical notations expanded around her, and the engravings now folded outwards came aglow as each of her husbands began to scream. They were the ones on the armor, they were the ones she wore on her helmet.
Wei’s mind went blank. The Countess was, for lack of a better word, truly and completely demented.
When Wei felt his Empyrael Wrath reach its dimmed state, and he emerged from deep underground, bursting out to face his adversary a mere ten meters away.
She turned slowly, each of her surviving husbands dangling in the air. In their hands were tools of artistry—some of them holding papers and pens, others brushes and paintings, a few instruments like violins or guitars. If there was one thing they shared, it was that they were all artists, and the Countess—she was a parasite that preyed on artists.
Each of them had a Specialization—a name. But all of them belonged to her now. Damned and devoured to fuel her spirit.
"I loathe wretched boys like you," the Countess said, her eyes dripping with rage, her voice stained deep with scorn. "Butchers, warriors, violators. All you know is to destroy. All you know is to break. You never preserve; you never take." She let out a contemptuous breath. "I even considered keeping you alive as a pet."
“Contrarily, I am amused,” Wei breathed. “I seem that because of your bindings, I will get to kill you twenty-nine more times. Seems I will be gaining adequate practice today and rid our world of a parasite. Strange thing as well: I don’t know if I would have preferred you to be pedophile instead.”
At his provocation, she gave a snarl. "I am a patroness of the arts. I preserve, I protect, I maintain, and I nurture. What do you know of how any these things? You think I merely prey on the young and supple? No. I am no lustful creature. I am no predator upon the young. I am patron, mother, and master all, and I have guarded these artists from the undeserving vulgarity of the lady for as long as I have lived. The sage, you, the debased Sinners of the Claimed Hells—all of you seek to feed off the labors of others, devoid of appreciation and indulgence. These privileges belong to one: me!"
The sheer absurdity of her motivation left Wei staring, and then a disbelieving laugh escaped him. "You truly are all the mad."
The Countess flinched as it struck, and at once she raised her wand, pointing it high in the air. From its tip flooded streams of twisting melodies fused with hundreds of Essences, all of them coalescing, weaving into a grand working that left Wei's mind flummoxed.
His Omniscience caught something. The flow of Essences were leeched from her husbands, she also stole their Enlightenments. She was draining from their minds to create this coming attack—using them not only as vessels of power, but bodies to process thought.
"You murdered my champion, my friend. You arranged all this to steal a name for yourself, to cement your own legend. But this is not the way of the Claimed Hells, boy, and you are a fool to stand before me. I declare now unto you that my humiliation is at an end: I strike you from the sheet!”
Then, with a vicious scream, she brought the whirlwind of musical notation down upon the ashen land, and a constellation of havoc enveloped the entirety of the battleground.
Comments
Truck69kun
TFTC
Retroburn
That was fast! Tftc!
Daf High-Voltage
Tftc
