Brent Stinebaker
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II-29 Taking a Name (III)
🕑 Added 2024-11-30 19:34:46 +0000 UTCThere are two theaters of battle being waged at the Bloodgrounds at all times.
The first is obvious: battles between duelists, challengers, and sinners who enter the Bloodgrounds to claim glory through violence.
The other, however, is far more insidious: the benefactors and patrons who use these warriors as tools for their own ends. There is great glory in possessing a Knight with immense promise, or displaying a Prince that can flatten entire continents. But that is naked power, and it works hand-in-hand with subtler interests and influence.
Understand where you stand in the grand scheme of things and apply your pressures carefully. There's no point in being powerful if you cannot control your own fate.
-The Trespasser’s Compendium
II-29
Taking a Name (III)
Wei and his sect soared through the air, merging with the stream of traffic around Cherub's Corpse at blinding speed. Unlike the Crawler they had used before, the limousine they had summoned could traverse freely, flying wherever it desired.
There were no formal traffic laws in the Claimed Hells, but everyone adhered to an unspoken order. Simply flying out of course and striking another vessel in the air was a surefire way of being sued by a Demon of Law.
The spinal limo dipped, merging with a dense stream of other demons as they proceeded deeper—lower—into the bowels of the den. Clustered buildings topped by massive platforms holding smaller residences were the norm here.
Once again, the mushroom camp theme was prevalent throughout, but this time the sprawl revealed itself even more dramatically to Wei. As they soared over the open streets, his skull pounded. His Enlightenment was sufficiently powerful enough to resist the headache, but still, he felt overwhelmed.
There were so many here—so many with incredibly diverse powers, specializations, and essences. It was like drowning in a miasma of clashing flavors, and in the middle of it all, Wei stood alone.
His disciples chattered among themselves, each of them taking in the sights and giving their own insights. Agnesia’s eyes were wide, disbelief, and wonderment painted across her face. Ellena had no desire to marvel at the scenery. A pensive expression darkened her features, and Wei could see the weight of her thoughts.
He considered approaching her for conversation but decided against it. She deserved her own time to reflect. After all, she had suffered.
As they flew, Rafael and Rogi provided running commentary on the den's many flaws. Apparently, Rafael was concerned with something called health and safety violations. Rogi, meanwhile, found it inefficient to have rows of staircases lining the exteriors of buildings without railings.
As they drew closer to the Bloodgrounds, Wei saw the arena rise above the other buildings. The structures here were smaller, their heights diminishing compared to those they had passed.
The urban design gave way to a flat sprawl of jagged, tooth-like buildings surrounding an intricately patterned garden. Each section of the garden was bisected by a wide thoroughfare, leading directly to one of the Bloodgrounds' many entrances.
Along these thoroughfares walked tides of people—more people than Wei had ever seen in one place. The pressure building in his cranium grew, but it was more manageable now.
"Behold the fruits of your strength," the Shell said. "Tread on. Earn more of your masteries. Demonstrate to this world who you are, and endure. Rise beyond this weight. Rise beyond this entire realm, until nothing about it troubles you any longer."
The world settled into Wei like a growing foundation. In the distance, he heard horns and the pounding of heavy drums. With each basso beat, his resolve hardened—ironclad.
They flew over the ever-moving crowds, joining the procession of other limos and high-level demons—higher level, anyway.
The Bloodgrounds spanned a massive ten kilometers but plunged even deeper into the ground, disappearing into the bowels of the den.
From above, he caught a glimpse of the audience stands. Each one was already overflowing with people, but there was a faint shimmer in the air, a pulse of spatial essence that told him things were not as they seemed. Even a ten kilometer structure would be hard-pressed to contain all the people he saw entering, after all. It had to be more than meets the eye.
The uppermost section of the Bloodgrounds housed thousands of platforms for aerial demons to drop off passengers. Encircled by glowing ciphers, each platform was tended by a legion of suit-clad demons. As Wei’s limo drew in close, he noted that they also possessed golden hooks in the place of heads.
Arena Attendant Lv. 24.
As the limo landed, one such demon came forth and pulled open their door. Wei felt the demon’s specter scan him with its Perception. "Master Wei and entourage, correct?"
"Correct," Wei replied.
"Very well. We understand this is your first time at the Blood Grounds. Please, follow me. I will lead you to your reserved viewing platform."
A ripple of excitement coursed through Wei’s companions as they disembarked. They were clearly pleased with the treatment.
"So this is how it feels to be a bloody noble?" Garret the Shadow Archer asked, a smirk tugging at his lips.
Wei didn’t reply. This sort of attention wasn’t new to him—he had spent his entire life as a young master. Even so, it was satisfying. It fed his ego.
Perhaps that is why these demons belong to the Circle of Pride, Wei thought.
As the sect departed, the Spinal Limo rose back into the air of its own accord and joined merged into the dense air traffic without difficulty. Wei watched it sail away and noted some Sinners flying through the air themselves. They were Count-Tiers if the pressure radiating from their spirits could be trusted. Wei’s excitement grew. He remembered the Count of Pride. The young master wondered how the Celestial Vanguard would far against the Old Man or someone of his caliber—how Wei himself might fare now.
They were still far more powerful than him, but there was a focus sharped into his being—a honed edge after all the battles he fought. He wanted to see. He wanted to experience. And he was in the right place.
He didn’t expect to be just a spectator for long.
The Arena Attendendant led them away from their landing platform down a nearby set of stairs. They waited for another group of fifty Sinners to descend first, and Wei noted each of them wore matching sets of silver armor and bull-shaped masks. All of them were Knight-Tiers, and Wei read a crushing anxiety from their posture—their muscles bundled tight as if they were marching to an execution.
A minute after they went, the Arena Attendant led Wei and his disciples onward.
“There’s so many people here,” Agnesia breathed. “All kinds of people too. All this power… it’s…”
“Suffocating,” Ellena finished for her daughter. Agnesia looked to her, and the former queen reached out with a comforting hand. “I understand. The time I spent with the Harbinger was like being ground under a mountain.”
“Mother, I’m—”
“I told you yesterday, little spark, it’s not your fault. It was none of your faults. We can all only do so much.”
The Shell materialized behind Ellena. “She lies to give you peace. Peace you do not deserve. When you looked upon her, gaze at the scar lining her neck first. Know she is only here because of a higher power’s favor.”
A trembling roar echoed through the dense walls by their sides. The crowds were cheering deep below; jeering; stomping their feet. The fights were on, and the thrill was high. Ahead, Wei saw an active Spatial Rift pulsating before them. Their staircase led straight into its open maw, with no path leading anywhere else.
"As you have reserved an exclusive viewing pod, we ensure that you do not need to mingle with the more standard rabble," the Arena Attended elaborated, as if sensing Wei’s thoughts. It brought them before the portal and gestured for them to proceed.
Wei hesitated, narrowing his eyes at the demon. "Apologies," he said carefully. "Recent events have engendered a sense of paranoia in me. I would prefer it if you demonstrated the safety of this mechanism."
The Attendant was unbothered by the request. Without argument, it stepped through the rift. A second later, as Wei’s Omniscience detected no anomalies, he followed. Darkness swallowed him, only to spit him out a moment later into a wide, sphere-shaped room. The chamber spanned some forty meters in diameter, with a ring of sofas fused into its walls.
The floor beneath him was entirely transparent, offering an unimpeded view of the arena below. Wei was high above the grounds of the arena—a good hundred meters, or so it seemed. It gave him a wide view of the battleground—a wide open plain beset by clashing storms. A lone fighter stood his ground against a dozen circling Horsemen—the very same kind Wei fought when he first arrived.
Dismembered corpses lay scattered around the sole survivor, and as ghostly arrows slammed streaked out, Wei judged this battle to be a close to a close.
Just then, the rest of Wei’s sect were teleported into the room as well. They arrived with splashes of Spatial Essence, and each of them let out a yelp as they expected to fall. The orc chef in particular collapsed with an undignified whimper, requiring the sole Hivekin of the sect to pull him back to his feet.
“Heights!” the orc moaned. “Why! I hate heights!”
“He appears to hate everything,” the Shell stated disdainfully. “You will need to spend substantial time fixing that one. Their odds of surviving the Claimed Hells lessens with each phobia they possess.”
The Oathbearers tapped lightly on the flooring using their boots. Each of them responded with curiosity rather than shock, discussing what kind of material the ground might be made of.
Rafael, ultimately, had a choice statement about Wei’s decision to book an exclusive viewing platform. “I hope that I do not offend when I say that I wish you got everyone standard entry tickets.”
“What do you mean?” Wei asked, curious as to why the lich thought this rather than offended.
“We are isolated. And likely invisible. Do you recall seeing the view platform while we were flying in?”
Wei considered that. “No. Not over the arena. But I sensed a strange shimmering in the area. Perhaps a spatial distortion.”
“Absolutely,” the lich said. “This place has a very well-made dimensional expansion field.”
“Truly? I suspected something of the such. There were too many people flooding in for just a few rows of seats to accommodate all of them, even with how large the structure is.”
“This design is meant to segregate the people from each other. It keeps us siloed. Your wealth—it twists the world into a distorted version of itself. It is beneficial, yes, but the life of an average Sinner has now been lost to us. With his donation and your choice, we are cast among the elites. It blinds us.”
The young master studied his friend for a long moment. “Is it the wealth that bothers you, or what people do with it?”
“It is the temptations it offers. And the options it gives people to be the worst of themselves.” Rafael paused. “Or the best. But still. We are narrowed by our Sins. If I may, I wish to walk among the masses somehow. See what it is like to view the fight from the cheapest stands.”
“Of course,” Wei said. “It will be good for us to gain perspective.”
Hearing their conversation, the Arena Attendant interjected. “Should you wish to access the low-tier viewing stands, you may consult with me. I will see you dispatched and returned at your leisure.”
Wei noticed then that there was seemingly no other way out. “We cannot navigate the Bloodgrounds under our own power?”
“It will be extremely inefficient,” the Attendant replied. “The grounds are vast and complex in design. Furthermore, there are multiple fights happening at different points across the area. Right now, the open exhibition battles for new Sinners is coming to a close. Soon, the preliminary events will start. Those will run through the day, and by evening, the main duel will commence.”
“I see,” Wei said.
“As you have purchased the deluxe package, I will be responsible for ensuring your every need. Should you have a request—any request—I will do my utmost to see it done. This includes an infinite supply of free-flowing libations, specific meal orders involving cuisine from across the Fathoms, and other means of ‘entertainment’ enhancements.”
Interesting.
A sudden roar echoed through their viewing platform from the outside. Looking down, Wei saw two Horsemen pulling the last survivor in half by their arms and legs. Wei watched the Sinner scream, struggle, and tear apart in a spray of red and spilling entrails. The orc chef gagged. Agnesia blinked.
“So… do people join these fights just to get themselves killed?” she asked.
“A contract of mortal acceptance is usually signed,” the Attendant said. “But most fighters are sponsored agents. As such, many have a single use Resurrection Skill.”
“The one who just died. Did they have that?” Wei asked.
“No. Kaeven—Knight of Lust—Specialization and party were unsponsored. That was the reason behind their participation in the open exhibitions: To gain a sponsor.”
“Another life claimed for the masses’ pleasure,” Rafael said with disgust.
Wei watched as the Horsemen rode off with parts of the dead Knight-Tiers body, using it to paint the ground. “I see. And these open exhibitions—they can be joined by anyone.”
“With the signing of the proper forms exempting the arena from all legal repercussions, correct.” The Attendant nodded.
“And the more formal events? How do they work?”
“Legalities must be discussed as well as a baseline. But events are myriad and there are no unified rules. The simplest event is a duel between two Sinners. When their lawyers are in agreement, they can set almost any conditions for a battle in the Bloodgrounds. Should they wish to host a more novel affair, it will require them to use their own Sins to set up proceedings and festivities.”
“And of the main event tonight? For Silt of Storms vs. the Midnight Sage?”
“This is a standard duel. The battleground will have a slot based format, allowing the audience to bid and change the conditions of the battleground once enough donations have been reached. Aside from this, it is a duel that ends only with true death. Such is what the legal bindings state.”
“True death,” Wei said.
“Stipulations on the part of the Midnight Sage,” the Attendant elaborated.
“Understandable,” Wei replied. That was a very cultivator thing to do. Time to accomplish one of his goals. “Is the Sage open to guests right now? I selected the deluxe package mainly because it came with an opportunity to meet with the main contenders.”
“Affirmative. Would you like me to message the Sage’s personal Attendant for details about their opening?”
“Yes,” Wei said. He considered his approach. “And… tell them that I am a cultivator as well. From Evernest. He might be interested to know that.”
“Acknowledged,” the Arena Attendant said. Wei watched as a thread of Essence zipped out from the demon—a splashed through the transparent flooring beneath them. There was something about the flooring—about what Rafael said. The young master gathered his focus and sensed a strange displacement infesting the space nearby, but it was hard to grasp, the dimensionality eluding him in ways he couldn’t fully understand.
Omniscience Advanced > 49
[32/100] Aspect Advancements to Core Ascension
“The Sage says he wants to meet with you,” the Demonic Attendant declared. “Immediately.”
The young master managed a grin. Good. Time to see just how impressive an Ascended Elder was. “Good. Bring me to him as soon as possible.” Wei turned to Ellena. “Watch over the others. I shouldn’t be too long.”
The former queen gave him a polite smile. “Of course. Though, would you like to bring a second?”
Agnesia perked up at that. “I’d like to meet one of your Ascended Elders. Be interesting to see if others from your world are like you too.”
“Though I wouldn’t be against such a thing, I fear the meeting is only open to the individual that made the purchase,” Wei said. “I’ll see if I can invite him over afterward. If we don’t come to blows.”
“Because of the whole sect conflict thing?” she asked.
“Yes. That.”
“Right. Well. Try not to kill him before his big fight, Wei.” Agnesia grinned.
“Try not to kill the Midnight Sage,” she joked. Her confidence in Wei’s abilities was heartening. Even with him uncertain as to his fellow cultivator’s capabilities.
“Hopefully not,” Wei answered. “Few enough of us cultivators as it remains.”
A Spatial Rift opened beside the demon as they held out a hand. “A passage has been established. The Sage is waiting.”
Wei looked to his disciples. “Wei addressed his disciples. ‘Make merry and cast your worries aside. Drink, eat, and… don’t do anything to upset the quartermaster. Otherwise, you’ll answer to me.”
A series of awkward nods and coughs greeted Wei. Right. This was a work in progress. They were still getting used to everything. And he was trying to figure out how to be a decent patriarch.
Wei stepped into the rift, eager to escape his disciples’ lingering gazes. Whatever surprises awaited the Sage, he would probably be easier to handle than the anxieties of leadership.
Comments
Cosmoros Subs
Wei looked - Wei addressed. Unnecessary repetition
Emerson Fortier
Fuckin cliffhanger! Very fun. I've dropped off on your other story but this one has definitely got me hooked. Looking forward to meeting whatever sort of degenerate the midnight safe turns out to be. :D
