Brent Stinebaker
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II-13 The Contest of Conquest
🕑 Added 2024-11-08 14:23:52 +0000 UTCAs always, as we prepare for a brand-new invasion, a time of festivities and celebration is upon us—and a time for Sinners to become Saints Among Monsters. Indeed, I do hereby declare a Festival of Conquest, and in the fashion of the world we are about to invade, there will be a theme to our competition.
Popularity. Dominance through recognition.
For all that you have done, for all the Sins you have accumulated, for all power you possess, what use is any of it if you cannot wield it properly? Well, then, now I give you permission to indulge in atrocities debased and glories highest.
Go, my Circles, be glorious my Sinners. Go to the Blood Grounds, to the Black Theaters, the Gray Bazaars, the Grooves of Communion. Go there and show your dominance against your rivals. Go and rise in your dens to be sent forth as representatives for your Circles—a hundred Classed for each Tier, with the triumphant Knights and Marquises to be the first and foremost granted vanguard privileges when my Black Towers pierce the virgin veil of Earth.
History and legend lay at your fingertips. Lay claim, or be claimed.
-Mepheleon the Harbinger
II-13
The Contest of Conquest
Wei felt an overwhelming sense of whiplash as he left the repaired arena and crossed the newly created doorway. The way out led to an entirely different place from where he entered—and the three overwhelming Essence signatures waiting just beyond made Wei prepare himself for what was to come.
He knew there were monsters in this realm—had glimpsed their power and faced them time and time again. But this was the first time he felt three individuals at Count-Tier or above gathered in the same room, and their very spiritual aura made it a struggle for him to even breathe.
“They should inspire you,” his Shell proclaimed. “If this is what they are capable of with a Class, then understand what you might do with a System in half the time. You will likely be ready for your Class Specialization evolution after this duel as well. For all your failings, you still walk a proper path. Stumble, more like.”
Wei heeded his Shell’s words as surging resolve filled his veins. Perhaps the ones he faced were monsters for now, but with his new ability to seize Concept Shards, he would see himself as their greater or equal as fast as he could. The true adversary was the Dying Queen—Mepheleon, even. Those godlike System-hosts that were his supposed rivals and superiors, but they were ultimately prey for his Concept-Breaker. Such was the mandate of his System and the will of Asaru.
The room was broad and conical in design. It was some four meters wide, and the walls were rounded with thousands upon thousands of tomes, books, forms, and other material documents. A few dozen floating skulls—liches, much the state Wei found Rafael in during his ascent up the Moongraves—flew to and fro, sorting the library as a train of books trailed behind them.
Light shone down through a dome of painted glass from above, and it showed what looked to be a realm composed of seven continents and oddly blue seas with trailing currents extending through a breached pyramid to form a complex variegated pattern below it. Wei frowned briefly at the sight, remembering the structure that Asaru had been making in their final moments.
So, this was likely Earth, home to the Trespassers and the trails below represented the Fathoms? It was still hard to fully conceptualize the sheer existential horror that was his existence, but Wei was a cultivator. The heavens were unkind to the meek and unfavored, and so in substance, little had truly changed.
Directly below the center of the dome was a vast table that projected a light-made representation of the same realm. Earth again. Same number of continents. Same blue body of water. Surrounding the representation were a few individuals actively placing markers on specific points of the globe in silence. They did not talk to each other verbally, but Wei could feel subtle wisps of Essence darting between them.
The most prominent of the group was Sarah Moonscar. Her overall look remained unchanged, but the pearlescent shards that composed her outfit were splayed outward like the gills of a fish with a few shards orbiting her person. Additionally, her eyes shone with a pale luminosity as she looked upon the world with a slight frown.
To her left and right were two people Wei had never seen before. Both of them were considerably powerful—on par with Moonscar at least. On her right was a man with the messiest hair Wei had ever seen. It looked like a frazzled nest of fiery red—the kind that sparrows might make a nest out of. He was also smoking what looked like over a three large pipes at once, sported over a dozen demonic eyes down the length of six arms, a set of cicada-like wings that hide a long, white cloak, and was actively conducting surgery on himself with a pair of rusted scissors.
Wei almost gagged, except the man’s blood didn’t spill like from a normal person. Rather, it stayed inside him and generally flowed away from his incisions. More interestingly, his exposed organs were all partially insectoid to a certain extent, all chirps and chitters as the man hummed.
Nils Alman: Terrible Surgeon (Legendary) Lv.???
Wei did a double-take at the man’s specialization. Terrible Surgeon? That was a specialization? A legendary one people could use?
“Why not,” his Shell chided Wei for his closed mindedness. “Why could someone not walk a path in their life based on sheer incompetence. Incompetence so sheer no one could match them.”
It was still hard to grasp.
To Moonscar’s left, meanwhile, was a relatively bland figure decked in thick plates of armor. It was just like a coat of tin, without any regalia or declarations, and slung to his back was an unimpressive poleaxe and massive tower shield. The only part of his body that remained uncovered was the face, and he looked rather plain to the eyes. Short dark hair. Stubble. Thin nose. Brown eyes. Rounded jaw. The man’s aesthetic reeked of mundanity. His Essence however, had a brutal edge to it, and of the three, Wei felt his nerves come alive as the man briefly glanced at him and offered a nod.
John Doe: Fighter (Common) Lv.???
Just a Common Class? Seemed a bit unimpressive to be in Moonscar’s company, and overshadowed by all the strange characters in the Claimed Hells. But then again, that might just make this man among the more unique individuals here, wouldn’t it? Uniquely boring could be a statement in its own way.
“Patriarch Wei,” Moonscar greeted. “I trust that matters between you and Trespasser Yu have reached an acceptable point thus far?”
A flare of anger came, but Wei suppressed it with his regained Ambition. It wouldn’t do well to antagonize people so powerful. That, and Moonscar was always immensely polite in her use of his proper title. “Yes. It was… there are still things to…”
“I understand. It is a troubling thing to do, killing your own father.” Moonscar nodded slowly and smiled at him. “It felt good when I killed my parents. So. I empathize.”
Wei hadn't been expecting that. He didn’t know what to say. “I… thank you for your concern.”
“Good. With Yu now given unto you as a karmic slave, he is no longer our responsibility. I will see him properly transferred to your custody when the time is right.”
“Karmic slave?” John Doe said? The Fighter grimaced and shook his head. “William has committed many wrongs and deserves death, but there is little chivalry or even use in torturing a man.”
“He owes me a great debt,” Wei said firmly and coolly. “And he set the conditions. I only agreed to them.”
John Doe considered his points and sighed. “It’s an ugly thing your father did. And it’s an ugly thing he’s doing now. Kill him if you must, but don’t disfigure your heart. You will have to live with who you become. That is the poison of wrongful action.”
“A lecture already,” Wei’s Shell spat scornfully. A mental materialization of the Skill loomed over the Fighter. “He is one we must overcome as soon as possible. We cannot have self-righteous fools like him deciding our fate through power.”
“I, contrarily, think you should have as much fun as you like,” the red-haired Terrible Surgeon said. A centipede-like set of intestines reached up and wrapped around his pipes. They pulled the smokes away, allowing him to let out a puff. “He’s done a lot of terrible things for the Inheritors, for the Dying Queen, for us… I’d say most people have it coming, but William Yu might have more coming than most. You could even get a little Sin out of this. Sell him out to people wronged across the Claimed Hells for their pleasure. He’s infamous enough that it would be good side business.”
Despite Wei’s usual composure, something in him flinched at that. He hated his father. Whatever fate he could inflict on the man, it wouldn’t be enough. Yet, the idea of doing what Nils implied—pimping him out to his former enemies. A sense of nausea rose inside Wei. He couldn’t consider it. This was something that was beneath him.
“Do you wish to be beheaded again, Nils?” John Doe asked casually.
“Yes,” Nils replied, just as blasé. “But outside. We can’t fight here. Sarah gets so very mad when people get blood all over her war room.” His smirk hinted at a reference Wei didn’t fully understand.
So far, the entire meeting was a surreal experience. When he faced beings of power from the Circles, they demonstrated their might with incredible Skills, theatrics, feats of mind-reeling power. But these three, despite all the overwhelming Essence radiating off of them, acted without care for their station.
Come to think of it, Bishop wasn’t that much different, either. He possessed great power but didn’t seem to flaunt it much.
“Habits formed by children born of a kinder, softer realm, perhaps,” his Shell mused.
“You can come closer.” Moonscar’s statement pulled Wei out of his ruminations, and he tentatively approached them. He didn’t know what this was about, or even what he should even say. As he arrived next to the light-projecting table, she continued. “We need to discuss the conditions of our falling out.”
“Excuse me?” Wei said. The words made sense, but the meaning behind them was lost. “What do you mean, ‘falling out’?”
“We believe it would be best if you adopted the guise of an independent agent in the Claimed Hells. This will allow you more access to the Circles in the coming days and grant us both a means of disavowal if it seems we are at odds against each other.”
Wei blinked. He didn’t understand where she was going with this at all.
“Poor boy,” Nils said, grinning as he reached in and plucked out what looked to be a rapidly growing tumor from one of his lungs. He probably captured the mass using his Inventory and unequipped his pipes as well. “Ah. Ninth cancer. Done farming today. Anyway, Welcome to the dark games, my son. Tradecraft is a life that we rarely choose, but alas, it often chooses us.”
The young master wanted to ask what tradecraft meant, but he was tired of this question-answer approach to things. “What are you planning? Answer me in detail. What is this scheme that you wish to involve me in? Do not waste my time with fragments—I am finished being a frog in your well. Speak. Or we will have a proper reason for falling out with each other.”
John Doe smirked slightly at that, while Moonscar kept her eyes on the map and placed down another market. Focusing on the map of the realm, Wei saw small structures and cities littering the continents, and thus far, she was placing point over point in a place marked as the United States.
“In two months, the first Black Tower will descend through Earth’s upper atmosphere. For the first time in history, Essence will flood into the Hollow Realm of Earth and a war will begin between the great powers of the Fathoms to capture the homeworld of all Trespassers. The capital of every nation will be struck. Every major geographic position will be struck. Every nation and every people will be taken by someone or another. The shape of my home will change, and fragment into a thousand-thousand fiefdoms as the Circles, the Unfallen, the Inheritors, Crossroads, and Kindred battle for total control.”
Slowly, Moonscar shifted to face Wei. “That is, unless someone with the proper qualities can unify the Claimed Hells at the vanguard and establish an ordered hegemony.”
Slowly, vague though her words were, realization dawned on Wei. “You want this person to be me?”
“You have all the qualities of a proper upstart populist here. A Sinner that has defied all odds and all contractual bindings to arrive at Preceptor’s Descent. Someone who has lost a world, and now has broken his traitorous father in a duel before taking him as a karmic slave. Someone with proper grievance that many can understand, who possesses the potential and charisma to rise through the Blood Grounds, the Theaters, to establish contacts in the Grooves, and perform transactions barred to most others due to the uniqueness of his identity. All these things make you the most suitable candidate for what is to come.”
“And what is that?”
“A Contest for Conquest.” Moonscar waved a hand at the representation of Earth, and it immediately shifted to a replica of the Claimed Hells. Swirling rings surrounded a core of festering black and red. Veins spread out along seven major pockets, coiling about Black Towers and through the outermost ring. “Earth is an Essence Hollow world. Most Fathom-originates cannot exist there without an injection of Essence. Trespassers will have no issue. You, perhaps, can endure, but it will be existentially unpleasant due to your mutilated nature.”
Even now, the wrongness of his father’s blood defiled his future.
Moonscar continued. “With that said, the first through will be Knights and Marquises. Those who require a lower amount of Essence to operate. They will be the first ones to invade. Them and the lesser demons.”
Wei’s eyes widened at that. “Is that why my realm wasn’t casually annihilated during all the demonic breaches before?”
“Partially. System Clashes and System Wars are also a factor. When two hosts place down conflicting laws and functions, existence suffers. And so a battle for dominant Essence will ensue.”
“Except for me,” Wei said. “Except I am required for the vault as well.”
“Precisely.”
“So, you wish to fashion me into a demagogue for hell?” Wei asked, his disbelief palpable.
For the first time, he saw Sarah Moonscar smile, and the coldness in her gaze sent a shiver of worry down his spine. There was something about her that was detached from humanity, working toward what seemed to be positive ends, yet willing to condemn billions to death without remorse to see her desired future arise. “Yes. And more. But to do that, you cannot be on good terms with the Trespasser’s Lodge. What we wish, everyone already knows. Mistakes left by other branches of our movement—the problem with big tent alliances.”
Again, Wei was at a loss for words. “This will benefit you as well. I understand that your vengeance is incomplete. The Inheritors—they will not be able to endure your taking of Earth. It will be an insult the Consuls cannot face without debasing the divine position they granted themselves. If you succeed here, they will come, and you will be able to see them dead.”
Wei waited for her to say something about Asaru, about the Antediluvians, the Broken Samsara, or anything that was revealed to him during his System Ascension. But she made no mention. Either she didn’t know, or more likely, she was withholding information from him.
“So, then,” Wei said. “How are we to come apart? Because I can already think of several ways.”
“An organic clash between us would be ideal. Something witnessed by a third party.”
“In the Third Rib?” Wei said.
“Ah,” Nils chuckled. “He catches on quick. You have thoughts about this, boy?”
Somehow, the Terrible Surgeon sounded more encouraging than condescending. “I… John Bishop. His powers are intrusive. And my father is his friend.”
“You know, for someone who doesn't like his father, you sure do think a lot like him.” The sudden appearance of Bishop next to Wei made him lash out with a shifting elbow. Bishop casually stepped aside but didn’t retaliate otherwise.
“He humiliates us!” the Shell roared with outrage. “And you! You shame us! Learn to aim your hits, you predictable fool. Expand your attacks. Let one move flow into another.”
Wei eyed Bishop with scorn. “I was waiting for you to appear.”
“I was waiting to see if you’d say something funny. You did. So. Here we are.” Bishop looked at Moonscar. “You tell him about the competition he’ll be facing, what he’s going to need to do after we get this whole situation set up?”
“I was going to until your theatrics,” Moonscar replied.
“Competition?” Wei asked.
John Doe smiled grimly. “You won’t be the only one vying for glory. As fitting of the sacred number, seven. Seven identified champions for the Seven Circles. Seven you must overcome by wit and will, mind and might. Seven to bend to your whims as lessers before the Circles become yours to command.”
Wei let out a quiet breath. This was quite a bit to process in the aftermath of a duel, but his mind was moving along its own wheels. If he grew into a significant figure, he could actually start recruiting for his sect—make the Drowned Sky Sect great. Greater than ever before! “Go on,” Wei said. “Let us speak in detail about everything.”
