Ah. John Bishop, my favorite nuisance.

I cannot tell you how many times I've heard his name uttered by the Dukes, Kings, and Princes in my circles.

“John Bishop did this and that to me.”

“John Bishop beat me badly, broke into my Inventory, and freed all the slaves I had hidden within.”

“John Bishop murdered all my Knights. Why can't he just die?”

Ah, what a lovely man.

Always there to keep my sinners reminded of a simple fact: these vices we indulge in, these terrible, horrible habits and vile, vicious punishments we inflict on others—they do not come for free.

There are people of genuine virtue in the world. There are true believers in goodness—though most of them are foppish milksops, incapable of fighting off a flea infestation—the best among them are monsters in their own right. Recall the visage of angels and remember that they look not as if babes glistening purity, but as nightmares hewn from primordial flesh—as true as any demon, as ruinous as any fire.

Goodness does not exist in opposition to vice. Goodness defines us by dialectic

The Trespassers’ Lodge will stay for as long as they can defend themselves. War with them at your own peril. The Claimed Hells will respect any and all who invade its shores. Even those truly oppositional.

-Mepheleon the Harbinger

76

The Plan (I)

“Wait a minute,” Roggi said, with a suspicious glare. “You mean we were brought together specifically by the Harbinger’s design? Why? For what reason?”

“Politics is my guess,” John Bishop replied.

“Politics?” The Oathbearer said, not understanding.

The Trespasser simply nodded. “A power play against his own Circles, rival System hosts, and the Inheritors, all at the same time. My reckoning is that he’s trying to create a new faction. A real wild card in the Claimed Hells. The Concept Breaker and his sect. Out for revenge. All of you.”

Bishop gestured thereafter at the two women in the room. “Ellena and Agensia of Dawnrest. Depose queen and princess. Bearers of Ignium’s will.”

Agnesia met Bishop’s eyes with a stone-cold stare, but a look of frightened unease consumed her mother. “My daughter is…”

“Dragon-blooded,” Bishop cut through her words. “There are plenty of people who are dragon-blessed. God, lineages from Wyrmlings to Drakes to Hydras and more, but few are directly descended from a God of Fire, Order, and Ash.”

The corner of Bishop’s lip twitched. “You got any idea what that lineage is worth? What she’ll be able to do?”

A smolder of black flames flicked behind Agnesia like shadowy tendrils, expanding to become a crackle of wings. Even within the memory, you could feel the heat wafting off her. Prior to her Class Specialization, her pyromancy was uncontrolled, primal, a wild flame wielded by a terrified girl. Now it was angry, loathing, hungry. A feral touch still remained, but she swung it like she did her blade—too furious to care about technique, with more than enough aggression to inflict proper harm.

Yet John Bishop seemed to regard her as a trifling thing. “You know what kind of noise people make when they burn?” Agnesia asked, the threat hiding beneath her words.

“Yeah,” Bishop nodded. His reply was casual, and with another purple ripple from his mind, the surrounding area changed. Screams filled the air as burning bodies staggered from place to place. There were thirteen of them, thirteen men dressed in rags, their skin melting from what looked like hyper-heated trails of white vapor. A searing fog surrounded the group, but though they felt its stinging sensation, it didn’t harm them.

“And I’ll tell you this, kid,” Bishop continued. “Your fires, they’re meant to destroy or create. I’ve seen people burn in ways you cannot even conceive. I’ve seen people burn slow, and I’ve seen people burn bright.”

Suddenly, the world around them shifted back to the miserable barracks. A room flickering under dim lights and surrounded by dirty cots.

“I’m not here to insinuate anything. The Dying Queen, she wants your blood. She wants you because if she can embrace you and claim you among her Kindred, the things you unlock for her system, the power she will gain will make her one of the greatest System hosts in existence, bar none. And with that, she can finally start contending with the other major players, like the Unfallen.”

And with that, he turned his attention on Roggi. The Oathbearer went rigid the moment his great enemy’s name was invoked.

“What do you know about the Ruinous Legions.”

“Plenty. I know they’ve been spreading across the Fathoms trying to expand the grip of the Wither. I know that they’re looking for what remains of the Creator, his shards, and those who bear them. And I know that you, the Oathbearers, forge-born and warrior-sworn to defend the legacy of the Great Builder, are on their last legs, your Hearths corrupted and shattered, your forces broken and beleaguered.”

With each passing word, Roggi’s fists grew tighter and tighter. Malformed though he was, the Oathbearer was an Oathbearer still. Beneath that avian shroud, fungal decay, Wei saw the crimson eyes of Roggi burn with focused, unyielding spirit.

“Aye, so you do know a few things,” Roggi replied, looking John Bishop up and down. “So now that you proved yourself a real smart arse, why, I think it’s time for you to tell us why. Why you’re here? How you’re going to help us, and how the hells are we going to get out of this miserable shit pit?”

“Yeah,” Bishop agreed. “It’s about time I do. Now first off, let’s go over our problems. It’s not just the Inheritors after you. We have reasonable intel that the Dying Queen, the Unfallen, and the Inheritors are all working together explicitly for the purpose of capturing you all.”

Agnesia scowled, Roggi let out a humorless chuckle, and Wei simply narrowed his eyes at Bishop.

“You knew this?” Wei replied. “Since when?”

“Found out. Just about three minutes ago,” Bishop offered the young master a smile. The boy remained unamused. “New intel got zipped over.”

“And if you have pierced the inner confines of the Inheritors so, why haven’t you resolved them yet?”

“Because every time we extract intelligence from them, we lose an asset. They are a large, messy organization, but they’re good a plugging leaks. Right now, I want you to appreciate how much we’re burning for you, because getting you out is gonna cost us valuable assets.”

For a moment, young master and Trespasser faced each other, both of their faces stone-solid, betraying nothing.

“Are you fishing for my appreciation?” Wei said coldly. Something almost similar to a grin passed over John Bishop’s face.

“I ain’t gonna say no to a thank you.” Slowly, mockingly, Wei made a salute. Bishop snorted.

“Alright, on to the critical details.” With a wave of his hand, the surrounding scenery changed once more, but rather than the surroundings warping, three new figures molded into shape on the table between Agnesia and Rogi.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

At the center was a well-built, but ultimately unassuming human man. Strong of jaw and deep blue of eyes, he wore a nice navy-brown suit with something akin to a long silk strip running down his neck. Wei cocked his head at the figure and frowned. “This here is Harlon Seever. He’s currently in charge of most operations coming out of Preceptor’s Descent. Effectively, he is a marquis of the Inheritors and the primary one after you, Wei.”

The young master studied his foe with a sneer. Harlon Seever. He remembered the Knight of Lust mentioning this name. Here was her contact, and here was the architect behind the Drowned Sky Sect’s destruction. The young master would take savage delight when he finally shattered what remained of Harlon’s Will.

“From what we’ve gathered, he’s probably around Lv. 106.”

“One hundred and six?” Rafael said, sounding aghast. The lich stared on at Seever. “I…please, I know it is rude to inquire, but what is your level, Mr. Bishop?”

Bishop gave Rafael a wry stare. “A bit more than that. But ultimately, it’s not going to completely carry through. Not when I’m wearing this vessel.” He patted his own body. “Too much psionic essence. Poor Angeleous is gonna pop like a wet, rotten bag if I strain too hard.”

“Great,” Roggi sighed. “So. He’s capable of rippin’ all of us limb from limb while you’re more of a danger to yourself.”

“I assume you have a scheme to help us overcome a superior foe?” Wei asked.

“A scheme?” Bishop cocked his head. “Yeah, something like that. Let’s just say our friend here might have high levels, but his Mind—well, that aspect’s a little bit lacking.”

And all of a sudden, Wei understood what Bishop was getting at. “I see. And so, if I were to be able to reduce this Aspect further—”

“I don’t know,” Bishop said. “I might just be able to squeeze my mind in. Get myself a new vessel. One that can sustain even more of my power. And get me further up the Inheritors’ ladder.”

Wei realized what Bishop was seeking. His Enlightenment caught on to the obvious plot. The Trespasser’s Lodge and the Inheritors were at war, all things considered, and Wei just offered Bishop a unique opportunity to breach and claim the mind of a hated foe. The psionic wasn’t just here to help Wei out of virtue—there was much he could gain.

Then came the other two figures beside Seever. The first was a big, bone-clad warrior. He looked to be about eight feet tall, and a hood shrouded his face in a swirling maw of tendrils. Ghosts spilled out from his exposed ribs, and darkness danced upon moving plates of armor, lining the bone. Finally, there were his wings, extended out from behind him, a collection of wicked scythes, capable of bisecting even a giant.

“This one here’s Athlon the Absolver, Unfallen. Not quite a Marquis, but his Class is a unique one. Different rules compared to most players in the Claimed Hells.”

“Rot and rust,” Roggi cursed, glaring at the Unfallen. “I know this one. Slaughtered millions of my forge-brothers he did. This one’s a hunter. A slaver of Trines.”

“Yeah,” Bishop said. “Fucker’s got a bit of a reputation. The Unfallen’s Cold Council has their eyes on your charges, Oathbearer Roggi, and they just sent their neatest hound to collect. And we both know the consequence of letting the Unfallen claim the last few hymns of the Creator.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Roggi shot back.

“Hymns of the Creator?” Wei asked, considering the term. “Does that relate to the song they sing when they perform their magics?”

“It’s more than just a song for a little bit of magic,” Bishop said. “They have a fragment of creation within them, expressed through artistry, capable of reshaping reality itself. Think of it as a broken system. One that’s almost been reassembled. Just a few more songs, a few more art pieces, a few more creations, and all of a sudden, the Unfallen will be able to rebuild the Creator into their fated Unmaker. And then.” A snapping sound resonated through the psionic projection. “They start twisting even more of existence to suit their needs.”

“And I said that’s not going to happen!” Roggi snapped, a snarl entering his voice. “I’ll be damned if I ever let those bastards sully my honor. They’ve already taken enough—my hearth, my brothers. They will not have this. I will see the Trine cut down before I ever let them have this.”

An outpouring of rage and frustration spilled out from the Oathbearer. And for a second, Wei infused his perception into the titan. For a moment, Wei’s perception and Roggi’s overlapped. He knew what it was to be an Oathbearer, to feel the compulsion of the Creator surge through his very veins, and an ineffable rage filled him. But not a wild emotion—rather one of refined focus, compelled drive. Roggi, Wei felt his Enlightenment spike, and as fast as the impulse came, so too did it vanish. The connection between him and the Oathbearer snapped, as if a fraying rope.

Both young master and Roggi looked at each other in the aftermath, a glimpse of something private. Something he shouldn’t have. He shook his head and resolved to speak with Roggi afterward.

“And finally,” Bishop said, ignoring the Oathbearer’s outburst, “there’s the Dying Queen’s candidate, Reunion.”

“Reunion?” Ellena said, focusing on the threat. “I… no… it can…”

A terrible, pale-skinned, long-haired humanoid stood before the group. It was shorter than Amphlon, but there was an air of menace around Reunion, the kind one would feel when gazing upon a hungry wolf. A disgusting shawl made from melted flesh covered Reunion’s body as if a makeshift cape. Haggard faces lined the macabre piece of clothing, as facsimile faces were lost in an internal scream. Finally, there was an orb of blood hovering behind Reunion, its surface clear and reflective, serving as a portal to a distant throne room, and far within the sphere’s expanse, Wei saw her again—the shadow of the Dying Queen.

Wei’s omniscience captured a snapshot of reactions in that very instant. Agnesia’s pulse accelerated, pounding so fast that she might as well have been in a life-or-death struggle. Elna’s breath hitched and her pupils dilated. She knew this one, and encountering them pulled her into a sea of black memories she did not wish to recall. The moment passed, but mother and daughter shared a complexion for once, and it was bone pale, nearly as pale as the man they faced. Reunion was a nightmare to them, and Wei knew then that if they were to face him in combat, spirits might give, regardless of their power or skill.

“So these are our primary adversaries,” Wei said, taking in the threats. So far, he stood unshaken, but his personal interest was in Harlon Seever. Still, he didn’t know the capabilities of the other two as well if they were going to participate in the coming ambush.

“They’ll also probably have a portal that can call up a few hundred more Knight-Tier soldiers to support them in bringing you down.”

“A few hundred?” Rafael shouted. His outburst was the reasonable one, Wei thought. The young master was more than capable, and with his system, he would dare say superior to most Knight-Tier threats. But a few hundred adversaries, all possessed of different specializations and across a broad span of levels? Wei didn’t know if even he could survive such an onslaught.

“Furthermore, I believe that the Inheritors have penetrated your little organization on a deeper level than you think,” Bishop said. “It ain’t just Angeleous that’s leaking your details.”

Wei and Rafael shared a look. It was as they suspected. Paranoia paid its dividends.

“So? What are their names?” Wei asked. “I could prune—”

“No,” Bishop said, holding out a hand. “You want to keep them. You want to keep using them as fault, false counterintelligence, just like you’ve been doing with Angeleous. And what you got isn’t a rat problem, but a compromised Class problem. Angeleous’s boys have outside forces traced to their spirits. They’ll be tracked anywhere in the Claimed Hells. And if they go off course, or you’re planning a diversion and head into another Hearted Realm instead, well, the Inheritor’s will know. And they’ll be there before you arrive.Trust me, they have more means of traversal than you ever will. Might impressive as your…”

At that, the Trespasser looked around the room and gave a slight chuckle.

“Now, as much as I admire your mad plan to rocket your Wei through the Hearted Realm, they’ll be there. They’ll be there in advance. It won’t take nothing for them to set up their ambushes. Spatial barriers, magical mines, specialized Demons, along with threats you’ll face in the Hearted Relam itself… you’re gonna be running up against a hell of a lot of adversity. This vessel’s pretty sturdy. It might last a few seconds, but a few seconds is all you’re gonna get because when unenchanted alloy faces someone that can liquefy a mountain… well.”

“And so what do you propose?” Wei shot back, not at all bothered someone was disparaging Mobile Fortress Wei. “Shall I wait? Shall I linger here in the Moongraves for the Harbinger to come down and save me, like the helpless little lamb I am?”

“I think you should use your System to its full capacity,” John Bishop said.

Wei paused, squinting his eyes at the man. “What are you talking about, Bishop?”

“You can control boundaries, right? That’s how you jumped your old man the first time.”

With each passing second, Wei’s discomfort grew. Worst thing about John Bishop wasn’t how casual and composed he was, nor his hidden but almost certain advantage in power. No, what bothered Wei the most was that this stranger—this trespasser, who clearly had a relationship with his father—knew more about Wei’s Keter system than even the System itself.

“My ability to control boundaries is still being developed,” Wei said. “If you think I can transport something as large as—”

“You don’t need to transport the entire ship,” John Bishop said. “You just need to get from one end to the other, and when the ship comes through, you destroy the distance between that and the exit. You’ve done that plenty of times, right? Breaking the concept of distance.”

Wei paused. Yes. That was imminently more doable. But Bishop’s control over the present situation bothered Wei. It was like he was being… usurped. This man, this Trespasser, had come in out of nowhere, insulted the mobile fortress, taunted Wei with his knowledge, and was now shaping things to his advantage.

The young master had considered revealing his arrangement with the Old Man, but decided to keep that to himself instead.

He deserved to have a few surprises of his own.

“Alright, then, Master Bishop. Tell me how you would break this ambush.”

“Let me start with another question, then?”

“What’s that?”

“Do you have any uh, expendable assets? At Knight-Tier or above?”

Finally. It was time for the Knight of Lust to meet her final purpose. “Perhaps.”