I - DILIGENCE AND THE SAINTESS
A month after the disappearance of the dragon hunting party, Antonio and Evelyn found themselves trapped in a meeting with the head of the Han clan for the third time in as many days.
“Enough of these games!” shouted the dark haired man. “Tell me where my daughter is!”
“I cannot do that,” said Antonio. “All I can say, I already have. She has been trapped in a Sealed Dungeon.”
“Then tell me where that Dungeon is, so that I can go rescue her!”
“I cannot do that,” replied Antonio. “Sealed Dungeons are far too dangerous. I cannot allow such an important man as yourself to enter.”
“You can’t let me in, but you can let my daughter in?!” said the man.
“Your daughter was forced into the Dungeon by a Demon King,” said Evelyn. “We would never have allowed her in if we had known about it.”
At this, the Han clan leader could no longer hold himself back. He jumped up from his seat on the couch, stomped through the wooden table in front of him and grabbed the beast man by the throat.
“Tell me where Ji-Soo is, or you’re dead!” he demanded.
Antonio calmly raised an aura-infused hand to pull the leader of Hans’ hand away from his neck. The man’s eyes widened as his arm was slowly forced back, his resistance futile.
“Lord Han, I may be in charge of administration, but I assure you that my position as a Godly Emissary is not an empty one,” said Antonio. “Your daughter is in a Sealed Dungeon, and has been for a month. There is nothing we can do about it but hope that she and her group manage to find a way to do what our ancestors couldn’t and beat the Dungeon. Sending any more in would merely be sending them to their deaths, and I cannot allow that to happen. Not when there are still so many Demon Kings roaming free.”
“There is still hope,” added Evelyn. “Some Dungeons can take two or three months to clear. And the team that Ji-Soo is a part of is one of the most powerful groups of people in the world. If anyone is able to find a way out, it will be them. Until then, please be patient. We are not happy about this situation either, and we aren’t any less worried about the missing than you are.”
“Fine!” spat the western lord after a few seconds of silence. “But if- no, when my daughter returns, I will be the first to know!”
“Of course,” replied Evelyn.
“I will be taking my leave now,” said the Han leader before marching out of the office.
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Han Jae-Sung was in a great fury as he left the cathedral. His escorts knew better than to speak to him as he marched back to their inn, and merely followed in silence. When they reached the inn in which they were staying, Jae-Sung stomped up the stairs to his room, slamming the door behind him before sitting down to meditate. He was not in the mood for meditation, but he knew that if he didn’t force his mind into a state of calm, he would start destroying things, like he had back at the cathedral.
In retrospect, he realized that what he had done was very unwise. Threatening one of the Emissaries with the Saintess herself in the room had great potential to backfire. Fortunately, they had not made a big deal out of it, or else not only him, but his whole family might have been in danger. He would need to go and apologize for his outburst later.
“What a shame,” said a disembodied voice, disrupting Jae-Sung’s focus.
“Who’s there,” he said, snapping to attention and summoning his spear from his spatial bag.
“No one,” responded the voice. “No one you will find, anyway.”
Jae-Sung focused his senses, and released a field of aura, searching the entire in for whoever could have been speaking.
“Don’t waste your energy,” said the voice. “You’ll need all of it if you want to save your daughter.”
“Who are you?!” demanded Jae-Sung. “What do you know about Ji-Soo?!”
“My identity isn’t important. What is important is that a family member of mine was also trapped inside that Sealed Dungeon, and that I know where that Dungeon is.”
“Tell me where it is!”
“Of course,” said the voice. “Not right now, though. If I tell you right now, you will rush off without hearing what else I have to say.”
“...Fine,” said Jae-sung, putting his spear away and folding his arms across his chest. “But hurry up.”
II - WRATH AND PATIENCE
When the ecstasy of battle wore off, Prince Donato Maradona found himself at the end of Cortés Castle’s hidden escape tunnel looking down at the earl’s severed head. The head stared back, a look of hatred in its glassy eyes. A dozen feet away was the earl’s body, sprawled on the ground next to the corpses of his wife and children.
Donato did not remember exactly how he had gotten there. As with all his battles, the only things he remembered were flashes. A rain of arrows falling on him. Scaling the high castle walls, ignoring the spells and arrows all around. Dismembering an enemy soldier. Being stabbed through the heart. Decapitating a knight. Losing his left arm. Breaking another knight’s sword. Losing his right leg. Decapitating another knight. Being decapitated. Laughing. Chasing down a fleeing enemy. Taking an arrow to the back. Ignoring the duke’s pleas for mercy…
Stolen novel; please report.
His armor and clothes were mostly nonexistent, having been destroyed by the countless attacks he had regenerated from. He was covered in blood from head to toe, but beneath it, his skin was pristine and unmarred, as if he had not been hit at all. He had lost his sword at some point during the battle, and the one he was carrying now was one he had taken off of a corpse.
He took one last look at his handiwork before trudging back down the tunnel towards the castle. One of his men, Sir Mateo, awaited him at the entrance, and handed Donato a cape as soon as he arrived to cover himself.
“Is it over?” asked the prince.
“Yes, sir,” said Mateo, avoiding eye contact. “The residents have all surrendered. We have control of the castle.”
“Good work.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“Get someone to prepare me a bath and a fresh change of clothes. And have them move our prisoner into the dungeon.”
“As you command,” said Mateo, bowing before walking away.
Donato waited by the statue behind which the escape tunnel was hidden, dripping blood until one of the maids who formerly served the earl arrived to lead him to a bath. She was trembling, and when she saw the bloodsoaked berserker, she became so terrified and nervous that she was unable to look him in the eye, and could hardly speak, but she did eventually manage to lead the prince to the former earl’s chambers.
An hour and a half later, the prince was clean, and his skin had returned to its original deep tan. He wore a plain white shirt with black pants and his original sword that one of his men had recovered was in its sheath on his hip. The maid from earlier was waiting outside his room, much calmer now that the prince was fully clothed and no longer soaked in blood, but still unwilling to meet his gaze.
“Lead me to the dungeon,” he commanded her.
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The former earl was not fond of keeping prisoners, preferring immediate punishment to confinement, so the dungeon was usually empty, and therefore unkempt. There was a layer of dust covering the floor, with obvious footprints indicating the paths that the recent visitors had taken, and the whole place smelled of mold and rot.
A single guard, one of the prince's men, was waiting outside the dungeon. Unlike most of the soldiers in the prince’s army, he had not fought in the battle, so he was still wide-eyed and alert, but when those wide eyes found the scowling prince, they became full of fear.
“M-my lord,” said the young man. “The prisoner is inside.”
“Good,” said Donato. “Both of you wait out here. I will speak with her alone.”
“Yes, my lord,” said the maid and guard simultaneously.
The dungeon had a dozen cells, but only the one at the end of the hall was occupied. Its inhabitant was a woman a few years older than the prince who, at a glance, did not seem to be anyone special. Or at least, she did not seem to be someone dangerous enough to warrant the heavy shackles with which she had been bound.
She was a plain woman with matted hair so dirty that its original color could not be discerned. Her cheeks were hollow, and her body was thin, with her ribs visible through the holes in the rags she wore as clothes. When the prince arrived and stood in front of the iron bars of her cell, she looked back up at him with an enigmatic look in her eyes.
“Hello, Patience,” spat the prince.
The woman did not respond, as she no longer had a tongue.
“As you have noticed, we took the castle,” he continued proudly. “The earl was the last of my uncle’s supporters who had yet to abandon their territory and flee to the capital. Our next target will be the capital. Once my uncle and his supporters fall, my family will finally be avenged, and I will take my rightful place on the throne.”
The woman continued to stare, her face still unreadable.
“I killed the earl myself,” said the prince with a wicked grin. “And his wife. And children. He had three of them. The youngest was nine. They had nearly escaped when I caught up to them. The countess begged me to spare their children. The earl called me a monster. I laughed at them.”
For the first time, the prisoner’s face changed, and her eyes became filled with what was unmistakably pity.
“Awww, did I touch a nerve?” mocked Donato. “Do you feel bad for the kids? Do they remind you of your own children?”
The look of pity only deepened. The prince's sneer turned into a scowl.
“Stop looking at me like that!” he shouted.
Patience maintained her empathetic gaze.
“Why are you looking at me like that?! Stop, now!”
When the prisoner failed to obey, he grabbed the bars and pulled, tearing the door from its hinges and tossing it aside. The woman didn’t even flinch. He marched up to the woman and grabbed her by the throat, lifting her up above his head so that her feet were dangling. The woman did not react, and hung limply, her eyes unchanging.
“Stop, or I’ll crush your throat!” said Donato.
A single tear rolled down her cheek, but he knew that she did not cry for herself. He screamed, and threw her against the wall. She hit the ground and slumped over, unconscious, but the steady rise and fall of her chest told the prince that she was still alive.
“Why?” he whispered.
III - GREED AND ENVY
In the early morning, just before sunrise on the morning after Jae-Sung was contacted by the mysterious voice, Greed and Greed’s right hand man met with Envy in secret.
“Why are you in that form?” asked Greed.
“Because it’s nice,” said Envy, a nasty smile forming on Ophelia’s stolen face.
“Get out.”
“No.”
“Then you won’t mind if I-” started Greed raising a hand.
“I’ll change, I’ll change!” said Envy, shifting into the form of the Chronomancer. “Better?”
“Yes,” said Greed, lowering their hand. “So, how did your mission go?”
“As well as you said it would,” grumbled the not-Chronomancer. “That Han bastard fell for it. I sent him to Hengeburg like you asked.”
“Good work.”
“Fuck off,” said Envy. “Release me from my contract.”
“No.”
“I’m going to kill you and take your place.”
“You will try.”
“...”
“Can I go now?” asked Envy.
“You may,” said Greed, and in an instant, Envy was gone.
“Quite a handful, that one,” said Greed.
“Yes,” replied Greed’s right hand man.
“At least they’re predictable. They’re easier to control than him.”
“Yes.”
The two sat in silence, watching as the sunrise turned the sky from gray to orange to blue.
“You have a very calming presence,” said Greed. “I hope you never change, Casimir.”
The Fist God did not respond, his gaze fixed on the horizon while his master softly smiled.