Karma reined in his concentration, his next words dispelling Lance's state of reverie.

"Liken our plot to a grand theater. I am the director—as you aptly pointed out, I am a paragon of information, making me uniquely suited for this role. Are you with me so far?"

Lance grunted in affirmation.

"You are an actor. Your confidence in the production's outcome is moot. Your only prerogative is to follow your portion of the script as it was written."

Seeing Lance's disproval, Karma raised his hand.

"When everyone plays their part, the burden of success or failure is placed on my—the director's—vision. Do you question my vision?"

Lance's voice dripped with vitriol. "Your eloquent speech would consign me to cattle: blind and ignorant to your goals as I frolic according to your whims."

"Exactly," said Karma, tone unapologetically blunt. "Your wit and shrewdness are admirable, but this is an assassination—its target the man who raised you. A man no less brilliant, intimately familiar with your every experience, and vastly more powerful. Accept that your value lay elsewhere."

Veins bulged along Lance's neck. He struggled to speak, muzzled by his pride.

"Fine."

"Very good. For your first scene, you will return to your residence, enter seclusion, and meditate with your mind open."

Arching an eyebrow, Lance asked, "That's it?"

"That's it."

**

In the Spectral Coup headquarters, Dante sat behind his desk, conferring with an emaciated individual donning a ghoulish mask.

"Ghoul, you're telling me the Selenium Clan vault—without any forewarning—burned to cinders?" asked Dante, his tone etched with incredulity.

"Close. There was forewarning; an anonymous individual—wearing a crude imitation of our uniform—shot out of the fortress with yellow light beaming out of their orifices ..."

"I fail to see how the two events are related," interrupted Dante, "Per your description, their cultivation base fluctuations were of the lower stratum of the Qi Formation realm. How could such a weakling raze a heavily guarded stronghold?"

Ghoul withdrew their mask, revealing a genderless pale aspect beneath a web of stitches.

"Warden Delphose launched an all-out attack on this weakling," said Ghoul, radiating boundless solemnity. "When I said I interfered, I meant I weakened the attack by half."

Dante's eyelids narrowed. "And the remainder?"

Ghoul chewed on their words, tasting their saccharine sweetness. Even as a witness, recounting the unfathomable scene felt like the utterings of a fanatic.

"Blocked. Sapped of its momentum. It dropped powerlessly to the forest floor—as if the universe itself commanded it to kneel."

Leaning on his elbows, Dante cupped his chin in his weathered hands. He recollected the mysterious intruder's cryptic statement.

"An ant seeking knowledge, unknowingly drawing ire from the boot above."

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Was this the work of an envoy? Did that Higher Being bait our assault to enable their success?

The chasm remained still, Dante and Ghoul trapped in their own ruminations.

The games of Higher Beings are an enigma—by their own account—one best left alone. But when they issue decrees in lieu of invitations, are we mortals damned of hope?

Dante had no answer, nor did he expect a response.

Yet, one came.

"Such is the plight of an ant. Such is the opportunity of an ant. All Higher Beings were once ants, asked or asking the same questions."

Dante, hackles raised, identified the interloper nigh instantly.

The Higher Being.

"The ladder of ascension is an arena of dominance—will the question swallow you, or will you overcome it and all else? For every rung, it asks, and asks, and asks."

**

Karma sat cross-legged atop his bed, white-golden threads jutting from his being. In his mind's eye, he peered through the eyes of Dante—whispering his song of deception; he cared naught whether its contents were candid. He crafted his tune to be ensnaring, not enlightening.

"Dismiss your subordinate. We have much to discuss," said Karma, shunting the audio through the void.

At their leader's request, the Ghoul exited the chamber. Karma watched Dante stare into nothing, his mind devoid of thought.

Clever, he knows I lurk within.

"I have another gift," began Karma.

"For you to gain, and my colleagues to suffer the recoil of your actions," ended Dante.

"You don't fool me, Spectral Chief. You may shut your mind, but not your heart. Rage kindles your animosity toward the Selenium Clan—not greed. My agent took the spoils, but for you, it only matters that Frederick lost them."

Swells roiled across Dante's soul, failing to escape Karma's notice. As he had stated, emotions ruled objectivity in Dante's conquest.

"Speak. What have you brought me?"

He folds at last, thought Karma.

"The prize you crave most. A chance to lay waste to the grievance beneath your breast: I offer Frederick's life."

Dante's heart and soul beat as one, the earlier tides burgeoning into raging tsunamis.

Karma smiled, reeling in his final hook.

"Should you be interested, leave your mind open in the breaths that follow. Today, I am not a broker but a messenger. Your salvation's genesis is Frederick's own spawn—fitting, is it not?"

As Karma's presence began retracting, Dante's mind creaked to a halt.

"Oh?" His fading voice echoed. "Elation and fear I expected, but heartache?"

A teary-eyed woman with a waterfall of purplish black hair flashed across Dante's perception, inciting Karma to stall his exit.

"I see—I see!—it's love that drives the dreaded Spectral Coup. And wait, there's more ... Romance ... and familial?"

If before I led him by the nose, now, I drag him by the neck.

"How gracious am I? Reuniting estranged siblings at last."

...

Karma's consciousness bungeed back to the waking world, a name hitched to his spirit.

"Lilith," Dante had muttered hoarsely.

**

"Hmm." Karma tapped his chin. "I think this will work? At least, in theory, I don't see why it wouldn't ..."

Shrugging, his eyes metamorphosed into bronze Ouroboroi. Shortly afterward, a translucent membrane cascaded above his skin.

Earthly Domain: Karmic Collapse.

Karma studied his palm, awed by its arcane splendor.

"Just summoning this Domain—whatever that means—drains a quarter of my spiritual energy. Peculiarly, its upkeep costs me nothing, but deactivating it requires another quarter."

But does it operate as I expect? Its defensive abilities are nothing short of extraordinary, yet that can't be its main function. At the very least, it's called Karmic Collapse, not Karmic Bulwark.

Buoyed by anticipation, Karma re-summoned the golden threads, dispatching their ranks in two directions.

Expensive!

Gritting his teeth, he clutched a pair of spiritual stone fragments, barely offsetting the monstrous consumption.

A thrum notified Karma his threads had made contact. The dual connection, even with his Domain reducing the resistance, proved extremely cumbersome. His consciousness quaked as—not one, but—two celestial Ouroboroi rotated opposite one another. Mirrored on their real-time projections was silent darkness, the targets' willingness thankfully easing the process.

I've won my gambit, but it's only allowed me to overreach—like letting the poor into a high-class restaurant. My shallow pockets afford me only the complimentary dishes.

"Only one way to find out."

Spiritual stone after spiritual stone crumbled to dust for his next gamble: using his spiritual energy to bridge the two monoliths, guiding the output of one into the input of the other.

When his legs were buried in a nest of grey powder, something snapped.

"Yay," breathed Karma's weary cheer.

**

In a realm of monochrome black, two figures superimposed empty space, facing each other with immeasurable shock.

"Welcome!" Boomed a disembodied voice, "I have gathered you—Lance and Dante—to establish a pact in light of your shared ambitions."

"Uncle!?"—"Nephew!?"