And so, the little pig wandered into the dark woods, oinking happily all the while. Through the darkness of the grove, the wolves came, their eyes gleaming in the night.
"I'm here, I'm here!" the little pig oinked.
"We're here, we're here!" the wolves howled, drawing closer, their steps silent but deliberate. The pig's joyous oinking grew louder. And though the wolves were ravenous, their confusion grew greater, until their leader couldn't help but ask.
"But why are you so joyous, little creature? Do you not know you're about to be eaten?"
"Oh, but there is to be a feast here," the pig said with a sly smile. "There is to be a feast, but it is not I who will be the meal. For why have one pig when one can have a den of wolves?"
Lightning flashed through the woods, revealing a looming visage between the trees. A tiger walked among them, more ravenous than the wolves, more cunning as well.
"I'm here, I'm here," the tiger growled, finishing this tale. "Thank you, little pig. These wolves will do."
-Old Evernest Fable
86
Tiger Among Wolves
"And here they come, lambs to the slaughter," Rico said, chuckling as he slithered around the Harlon Seever, the Project Master of the Preceptor’s Descent. The false hydra’s body curled around the entire makeshift command center they established. A ten-meter thick magic-enhanced bunker hovering in midair away from the realm’s slavering maws, this place became the nexus of the Inheritor’s operations—after which it would be discarded, as if it never was.
The critical personnel among the Inheritors occupied the very center of this base. Seever, Reunion the Embraced, Athlon the Unfallen Absolver, and a few other higher ranking Inheritors occupied this space, the ceiling above created from cipher-lined glass, forming screens that portrayed perspectives to Hearted Realm beyond.
Rico? Rico went unnoticed by everyone but Harlon. And that was just the way he liked it. What point was there in being a false hydra if everyone could see you, after all?
Intermittent splashes of fire detonated across the sky across the Archdevil’s inner realm as Inheritor defenses were unleashed from the exterior of the base in complex arrays. Mystical missiles speared out from glyphs and ciphers, annihilating hundreds of demons with each passing second. And when threats of high enough severity approached, the base simply teleported, evading anything that constituted a proper fight.
They had set up within the Hearted Realm for the moment, and Rico had lured the Trine and one of the Oathbearers closer. It was a near thing. Apparently, someone in the little bastard's camp had a high Mind rating paired with a psionic specialization, so he couldn’t linger, but this would work just fine.
A few kilometers beyond them, a twin-towered edifice loomed up through the atmosphere, stretching beyond the Hearted Realm, reaching parallel alongside the Black Tower’s last stretch. Should anyone reach one such tower, they would find a spatial rift stored within its valley and a point of egress from this nightmare.
Unlike most other rifts, this one pulsed white, and was the closest point of departure for where the Trine—and therefore the rest of the Inheritors quarry would emerge… And it was here that the Inheritors had set their trap. Harland Harlon be damned if he was going to let that young bastard slip through his fingers.
A chain of telepathic connections extended from the base across all active Inheritor Knights. They had two hundred and one soldiers active on the field in total. Loud and aggressive, but this operation needed to end in victory. Otherwise, Harlon feared both his eyes might be getting filled by ogre balls again. Didn’t want that. No sir.
Five Censor Class Specialists scouted their psionic network for any intruders and maintained communications between the base and the bulk of their forces. Through such means, Harlon’s coverage of the Hearted Realm extended over 3000 kilometers—more than enough to create a crushing perimeter. More than enough to ensure that nothing could escape his grasp.
At the forefront of his group were the skirmishers and teleportation mages. Their role was simple: speed and the establishment of an instant response network. Already, over twenty-five different positions were secured, each a bulwark holding against the constant demon onslaught. The Archdevil of Gluttony would eventually demand its due if they were forced to linger here for more than a day. But as the Trine fled deeper into the encirclement, Harland had the feeling that the rest of Wei's forces were about to follow.
“Trine, 2993 kilometers away,” one of the scouts reported. Maxwell McTannon, Skystrider, former jet pilot—all speed and efficiency. He already made more than few passes over the Trine, dodging demons and enduring Essence drain while serving his duties. Harlon made a mental note to reward him when this was over.
“We must secure the Creator’s Last Hymn,” Athlon growled. The undead warrior grumbled as ghosts leaked out from the gaps in his ribs while his sharpened wings flexed. The dumb bastard, selfish was already getting impatient. “Inheritor. Fulfill your promise. Send your forces.”
“Relax, baby,” Harlon said. “There’s still three more of the big round guys you need to grab right? They’ll be following soon, too. Don’t just grab a few, get the whole set.”
“The Trine takes priority.”
“Yeah. I know. But won’t you be rewarded more if you got everyone? No loose ends? And think about Reunion here, pal. He’s gotta stake in this too, you know?”
Harlon almost winced as he said “stake.” Shit. Did vampires get touchy about that—
The fucked-up melted-child cape Reunion wore responded. Two disfigured and wax-faced children clapped their hands as they extended out from the vampire’s shoulders. They cheered with vigor and Reunion smiled beatifically as well.
“We work with some fucked up people,” Rico whispered.
Yeah. Well, the Consul himself is a “fucked up people,” Harlon thought. Being in hell made a clown of you, one way or another.
"Princess and the queen will be reunited with the rest of their family," Reunion whispered, its voice a thin rasp. "And the embracement of Dawnrest will be complete."
“Yeah, real happy for you,” Harlon nodded, faking the emotion as best he could. Soon, the young bastard would pop his head and they’d snatch these shits and Harlon won’t need to deal with anymore degenerates for the rest of his—
“Target spotted! It’s princess. Agnesia of Dawnrest.” Another telepathic message came in. This one from one Katherine Anvil. Ghoststrider. Her perspective was isolated and magnified from the panoply of screens on display, and Harlon grinned as he caught sight of a girl sailing through the air. She was enwreathed in black fire, sporting wings of ash and destruction.
Rico’s plan had worked. She clearly came after the Trine, and a few seconds later the massive fortress burst out from a splash of spatial Essence as well. More Essence signatures were identified, and Katherine counted about a hundred or so Classed within the walls of Mobile Fortress Wei.
Mobile Fortress Wei. Fuck me. Harlon said. He knew the kid was important for the guys on top, but still, he was just a kid. Harlon’s conscience twitched inside him, curling like the legs of a dying spider, but the thought of a promotion kept the emotion muted. Life was a rough deal. And Harlon had to look out for number one.
And number one was him.
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Besides. Kid was just going to die. He wasn’t going to get ogre balls in the sockets when he screwed up. It could be much worse. Much worse.
Speaking of which though…
“Recruit Anvil, you got eyes on our priority one?” Harlon asked.
“Negative, Project Leader.”
Well. Kid might just be hiding inside his fortress. It was… kind of an inspired strategy in a mad thirteen year old boy kind of way, but it wasn’t going to matter in the end. Time to bring this to a close.
“Alright. Project Lead to groups one to eight. Go secure that fortress. Nine, ten, eleven, and twelve, go grab that princess and the Trine.”
The leaders of the teams answered him, and the teleportation network connected to the base flared. Things were finally coming together. Time to bring this to a close.
***
Agnesia hated the Hearted Realm of Gluttony. She hated the massive tongues that reached up through the atmosphere, flicking through the clouds as if they were smoke to be tasted. She hated the massive maws of teeth that opened with tremoring earthquakes, cracking the land beneath her. She hated the demons that spawned from these fissures—beasts of might and hunger, all fang, claw, and tooth.
Most of all, she hated how hard this all was. How awkward her swings felt. How long it took her hellfire to consume these foes. But that was fine. For every droplet of fire she generated, her Rage grew. And that fueled her power.
Roaring after the Trine with a howl, Agnesia swung her blade in wild arcs, severing lesser demons with every brutal strike. A long, centipede-like creature buzzed through the air, smashing through a wall of lesser insects. A vertical mouth opened down the length of its body, but Agnesia was undeterred.
She hated that creature. She hated those teeth. Those teeth reminded her of the embrace—the ones who took her home, murdered her father, turned her brother, and made her a murderer. A ravenous cry escaped Agnesia’s lungs, and the surrounding heat flared. She activated her skill, Lesser Wrathful Omen, and the dragon she imagined herself as–the beast she was fated to become—flared around her in a shroud of abyssal flame and smoke. Immediately, the demon before her was dwarfed, and her avatar reached in with burning claws. Flesh began to cook from within.
With a roar, Agnesia pried the demon open and breathed a mouthful of flame, incinerating the creature of Gluttony from the inside.
You have Performed an Act of Rage
Class Level > 28
A surge of fury flowed through her veins, and the feeling was beyond euphoric. This was who she was meant to be. This was her power. Her fuel.
But then a sudden tranquility splashed through her mind. It felt like sobering up, the effects of battle-wine wearing off after a night’s rest.
“Focus, kid,” Bishop’s voice poured over her inflammed thoughts, ringing like a bell. “Don’t get caught up killing the chaff. That’s not what we’re here for.”
"Right," Agnesia muttered. She flapped her black fire wings, rising higher into the sky. She was here to hunt. To search for the trine. Projecting her aura of flame wider, she kept the lesser demons at bay while taking more conservative routes through the air. But higher up on the horizon, she saw something titanic—leviathans, so vast they displaced clouds, sweeping shadows across the land. Their presence was overwhelming and even they were slaves to the hunger.
They crashed against each other, massive bodies dwarfing the Heart of Gluttony, while descending mountains of gore carried thunderstorms of rain between every traded bite.
Leviathan level: ???
“Right, better not fly that high.” As Agnesia scanned the battlefield, her eyes caught sight of something. A shimmering light. She blinked, focusing, and then realized what she was seeing—scintillating needles sailing through the air. They pierced the demons from afar, creating pockets of space among the masses of nightmares.
“I found them,” Agnesia whispered in triumph. “I found the Trine.”
“Don’t get too excited,” Bishop cautioned. “Ease into the trap. You rush, and it might throw them off. Make them suspicious.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Agnesia replied with a grin. “That was the plan.”
Flaring her wings once more, she accelerated forward, a one-woman cavalry charge. The lesser demons splattered against her, combusting in her wake. She dodged the greater beasts, darting between them with deadly precision. But even as she pressed forward, she knew she was being watched. She could feel the presence of the wolves circling.
Agnesia landed on the platform where the Trine and their Oathbearer were. The three Faebloods turned, their eyes wide with surprise. She could feel it—Bishop's psionic influence pulsed out from her mind, mingling with the Trine’s. Someone had twisted their consciousness.
"Agate?" she called.
The Oathbearer shook his head, groaning as he remembered. “Bloody hells… where am I?”
"Relax," Agnesia said. "You're among friends, but you’re inside the claimed hells now. A lot has happened."
Agate’s eyes settled on the Trine, and the memories came flooding back. “Rotten ruin,” he repeated, his voice laced with regret. "What have I done?"
"Don’t worry," Agnesia reassured him. "We'll get you out of here— The wheels of her vehicle suddenly jolted, and Agnesia flared her wings before she was thrown off. The Trine and Agate were not so fortunate. They rolled free from their mobile platform, and bloody tendrils speared out to capture them before Agnesia could react.
Flying after her companions, the princess was halted as a figure emerged from a narrow cleft in a rapidly forming nest of crimson. Brambles of dripping red rose from the soil below, their edges emanated with foul Essence; the stench of the dying queen.
"I'm afraid neither of you will be leaving at all," the figure whispered. And there, standing before her, was Reunion—the embraced. The Dying Queen’s envoy.
Reunion: Lv. 78
Reunion’s presence was suffocating, his pale face too perfect, too inhuman. And worse, his cape of flesh—it was made from the melted forms of her younger brothers. Horror consumed her heart. Agnesia gripped her sword, but as the children clinging to Reunion’s body unfurled like a mabre cape, she felt pure terror creeping up her spine.
“Oh no… no, no, no…” Before the despair could overwhelm her, Bishop’s influence pulsed again, holding her steady.
Reunion smiled, his blood-red eyes gleaming. "Yes. Your siblings have missed you so, Princess Agnesia. Come and greet them.”
And so Agnesia’s brothers—burned of flesh and disfigured beyond death— spread their arms in exultation as Reunion strode forth, his forest of blood growing ever thicker. And with him came an armored monster, its body a fusion between an exposed skeleton and blackest armor, while its face was like looking in the depths of the abyss.
Athlon the Absolver: Lv. 87
“There’s the Unfallen,” Bishop said. “Keep it steady now. We’re all waiting inside you.”
Got it. Agnesia’s throat tightened. The tendrils of blood carried the struggling Trine along with Agate over to Athlon, and ghosts erupted from the Unfallen’s body to caress his prey.
“You do me honor, Reunion,” Athlon said, his voice like a chorus of thunder.
The vampire merely bowed. “We are all brethren in this shared moment. You with your family to be, and I with mine…” He gestured toward Agnesia, but his brambles of blood burned as they approached, flinching from her flames. “Ah. Princess. How you have fouled yourself with the Harbinger’s touch. How you debase your potential. But no matter. The Queen still loves you. She still wants you.”
Agnesia gritted her teeth. She wanted to burn the bastard—to cleave him until nothing remained.
“Remember the plan,” Bishop said.
Her grip loosened. Right. The goal was to see this creature dead. But it wouldn’t be by her hands. No. The level disparity and the power between them was too wide. But he didn’t know what she possessed—who she had hidden in her Inventory.
And he had promised Agnesia her revenge—that he would leave the Kindred broken, but not dead. That was for her mother to savor. That was a privilege Agnesia wished to indulge.
Veins of blood curled tightened and tighter around the space, and soon, Agnesia could no longer see anything of the outside world.
“You must see that you cannot escape,” Reunion said. “Hot though your flames might be, they cannot burn my forest. They cannot spare you from love and joy.”
“Run, lass,” Agate cried, struggling again the tendrils gripping him. He writhed, but a series of needle-tipped arteries burrowed under his arms, and the Oathbeaerer began to spasm.
Agnesia took a step forward involuntarily, Agate—
But Reunion was already there. He had moved without her even seeing, and his clawed hand snaked through her fiery aura, healing as fast as he burned. An impossible pressure clamped around Agnesia’s throat, and suddenly, she felt herself lifted into their air, the blood within her rebellion against the flow of her heart, the confines of her body.
“Surrender yourself, “Reunion whispered sweetly. The twins extending from his shoulders reached out to caress Agnesia’s cheek.
The princess gasped and muttered, trying to force out her words.
“What was that?” Reunion asked, loosening his grip.
“Thank you,” Agnesia croaked. The vampire smiled.
“Finally, you see—”
Agnesia clamped her own hand around his wrist so he couldn’t escape, and accessed her Inventory.
“Thank you for getting close, you piece of shit!”
A burst of spatial Essence pulsed out from Agnesia, and as it faded, a blossom of crackling thunder bloomed. A spear, empowered by lightning and layered in Source, exploded out from within Reunion’s guard as Young Master Wei An Wei of the Drowned Sky Sect buried his Eidolon through the vampire’s gut.
“I… what…” Reunion gasped, coughing blood.
And then a scythe materialized. A scythe lined with shadow and infused with light. “The Queen of Dawnrest sends her regards,” Wei spat. And then his Form of the Harvester fell, and when it cut, part of the vampire simply ceased to be.