The Cherub’s Corpse is one of the few decent places you can go if you down want to live in a den under Circle control. Sure, there are your usual issues such as skin-stealing horrors hiding in the vents, malformed monsters waiting to ambush you in the darkness, and those greedy Crossroad merchants screwing you out of your last Sin, but as a whole, it really isn’t that bad of a place.

Running some three hundred kilometers long between the Circles of Wrath and Pride, you find plenty of establishments here to feed your palate. That, and its position, is fantastic to do some “gray zone” business if you understand what that means.

If you’re migrating to the Claimed Hells, or if you’re one of those special freaks who managed to finish the Trials without indenturing yourself, stop by the Third Rib Hotel for a brief stay to figure out your next plans. It’ll give you some time to get maybe scouted by someone. Or at least enjoy a few pleasures before the nightmare that is the Claimed Hells finally breaks you and claims you for its own.

-Review of the Cherub’s Corpse

II-3

Cherub’s Corpse

The city was alive. There was no better way to describe it.

The buildings here rippled with demonic tissue and ebony-tinged chitin. Being in Pride-owned territory, the structures were tinged with gold, but they also sprouted tendrils and fanged maws that doubled as architecturally impractical room extensions. Large transparent irises served as windows here, and within Wei caught fleeting glimpses of people in various stages of undress. The young master blinked rapidly as a few unclothed bodies flashed past him. He was going to ask why the locals lived next to the Crawler lines and if they didn’t understand modesty, but knew his words were pointless. This was the Claimed Hells: a deviant’s paradise.

Beneath the surface of these buildings were also Incubator veins pumping Essence throughout. These buildings had their own levels as well. And some were even advancing! Strangely, the structures he noticed were built as if in the shape of a barrel. They curved away from the Crawler like a wall, and they also continued far down through the denseness of the urban jungle, through the wall of clouds leading to the Base.

The general layout of the city seemed similar to the plaza—a mountain rising between a lot of nothing. Except the density was far greater here, with several of these residential mountains stacked close together.

Individually, they were so large that Wei’s Omniscience only glimpsed a portion of their entire form. The young master could also feel thousands of people moving about within their walls. Thousands in close proximity with each other. Most were Knight-Tiers, with a few just Thralls, and some even lacking a proper presence altogether. There were maybe three Marquises, and Wei felt them like roaring flames amidst a sea of embers.

“SAVE THREE MILLION SINS ON YOUR NEXT RESURRECTION SHARD! COME TO CULLEN’S GARDEN TODAY!”

A psionic broadcast blasted through his mind, deafening him from the inside, while a flash of colors licked over the Crawler’s window. Wei saw flashes of shapes—what looked like a man rising back from the dead after being stabbed. This place was far worse than the Moongraves. His skull was throbbing, there was so much noise and detail. A slight groan escaped Wei. Nausea gripped his stomach.

“Yeah,” Bishop nodded, as he pointed out the window at the unfolding carnage. “This ain’t nothing yet. We’re in the outer dens. Things really get loud when you get closer to the Mansions. Those megaspires represent the hearts of each Circle.”

“Ignium,” Agnesia muttered. Colors flashed across her face as more noises assailed her from the outside, making her wince each time. “You mean that all the Circles are this active?”

“More,” Moonscar said, interjecting herself into the conversation. “The Circle of Pride is remarkably retrained in terms of tone and presentation.”

The princess’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Restrained? This is restrained? Blood and damnation.”

A school of fish made from screaming human faces drifted along the Crawler for a moment, and behind they tugged a banner—a banner with animated paint. Wei’s jaw fell as he saw an artistic rendition of himself presented upon the cloth, cutting and slashing through hordes of demons. A proclamation came thereafter. A statement behind his recent accent.

“Here you have it, Sinners! The newest Autark to reach Preceptor’s Descent. Only took sixty years since Manfell the Dread.” Booming laughter consumed existence thereafter. “Now, all you Circle-Fuckers keep your eyes peeled. Pride’s got their eyes on the boy. Rumor has it he’s been getting chummy with the Old Man and his Knights. And some others say the Lodge is playing their fuck-fuck games, but nothing’s written in stone yet, and if you make a good enough offer… well, you gotta find him first, don’t you?”

A lightning bolt of realization passed through Wei. The Circles were racing to recruit him. And they knew. They all knew about his arrival—and were broadcasting it across the city.

“Shit,” Bishop murmured. “Here I hoped we could keep to a low profile for a few days.”

“You always hope too much,” Moonscar muttered back.

Wei blinked. “How did they know?” he said, staring at Bishop. “About who I am? What I’ve done.”

“Rumors travel fast,” Bishop replied, cocking his head. “Also, you got in touch with the Circle of Pride, and, well, let’s just say the Circles leak into each other all the time. No secrets stay hidden long here. None at all. Wouldn’t even be surprised if Mepheleon leaked some details himself.”

“But why?”

“There are million different schemes going at the same time in the Claimed Hells, Wei,” William said. He talked without looking at his son and shrugged. “You represent a new angle to change the course of almost all of them. That, and the push for Earth is coming up. Recruitment seasons about to hit a crack-high overdrive.”

Wei frowned. Normally he liked attention. It was a statement, a proclamation of his prestige. But as things were right now, he wanted to have some time to himself—to evaluate, to strengthen, and ready himself for what was to come.

Their crawler shot ahead, and a burst of spatial Essence folded over the sides of the demon. The world outside blurred, and when space stabilized, Wei realized they weren’t in the same area anymore. A heavy wall of traffic grinded on in the inverse direction as their Crawler, and Wei saw flying Sinners drifting alongside winged mounts and other odd-looking demons. Ahead, a massive tunnel loomed before them. A tunnel built into the residential blocks. They vanished into the dimness, and Wei saw a collection of red-lighted rooms within the darkened space, and countless more tiny hollows running within.

“So many ways in and out,” Wei said, observing his surroundings. “How does one keep from getting lost here?”

“Getting lost is part of the experience,” Bishop answered.

“Then, what about security? What about safety?”

“We’re in the Heights. There are eyes everywhere, here. Unregulated murders are hard to perform, and most apartments or other buildings have their own levels and guardians. You try something, you’re not just going to fight the guy you’re trying to whack, you gotta fight the entire building—maybe even the neighborhood too.”

As if to illustrate Bishop’s statement, a mutated hand burst out from the walls of the building and threw a nude, screaming elf over the Crawler. For what reason they were cast, Wei didn’t know, but it showed the state of these structures wasn’t just aesthetic. The idea of needing to duel a room or a street crossed Wei’s mind and he winced at that. “Everything is going to be nightmarishly weird from now on, isn’t it?”

“You’ll get used to it,” Bishop said. “We’re passing into a den. You’ll get a glimpse of the general make-up of a typical city center in these parts.”

As their Crawler emerged out from the tunnel, Wei saw even more motion all around him and felt such a concentration of Essence signatures it felt like a spike of pain was digging deeper and deeper down his brain stem. There were people everywhere. There were other Crawlers running parallel to them, their use of spatial Essence creating a frictional turbulence. More than that, Wei got a general glimpse of how a den looked.

“See how the whole place is shaped like an amphitheater,” Bishop said, gesturing toward how the external stack of residential buildings surrounded them. “It was specially designed that way. The roughest, most populated buildings are on the outside, always. Inside are the fun districts.”

Wei followed Bishop’s pointing figure and identified a thick stretch of jungle amidst all the urban decay and demonic edifices. “That there’s the Grove. Most den’s have ‘em. Places to meet people and talk about things. Tranquility is king there, and any violence will end with the vines present burrowing down your eyes and up your ass and cock before meeting in the middle to make a knot out of your corpse.”

“How… wonderfully macabre,” Rafael quipped.

Next to the Grove was a large structure with massive windows, bathed in gleaming lights, and sporting a series of pointed protrusions from its top. “That there’s a Gray Theater,” Bishop continued. “You can find all kinds of shows there. Specialized entertainment. Can choose to perform as well.”

“What kind of shows?” Wei asked.

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

“Well, could be anything from a poetry recital to a ritual murder-suicide meant to spite your old boss.”

Why did Wei expect anything different?

Across from the Gray Theater, an influx of people flooded into what seemed to be an open air arena created in the shape of an open rib cage. “That there’s the Bloodgrounds. Where duels and fights happen. Official duels between citizens are settled there, and challenges can be completed for prestige or Sins.”

That seemed promising. Stage duels and showdowns were things Wei was long familiar with as a cultivator. At least they weren’t so different here. That being said, the number of watchers present in a single den alone was daunting.

That brought a darkness to Wei’s mood. For so long he thought his mountain fortress of a home to be the pinnacle of power. But it was nothing. Even smaller than a single den in the Claimed Hells. And if there were trillions of people here…

Wei’s shuddered. Which caused him to notice another part of the city. A series of long structures absolutely littered with people filtering in and out its massive doorways caught his attention. “What’s that?”

“Oh. The Bazaar’s where most people do their shopping. If something can be found in the Fathoms, it will be on sale here so…” Bishop shrugged. “If you’re a shopaholic, it’s best that you avoid that place. Everything there’s a haggle. And if someone doesn’t get charged or sued from a scandal… well, the day don’t end right.”

Finally, there is a final structure to note. It stood at the very center of the den, and it rose like a tower of golden, hypercharged with Essence and projecting a pulse of energy outward into the distance. At its very top, Wei saw what looked to be a glowing humanoid figure hovering above the tip, their bodies layered in chains. Every few seconds, one such chain would peel away from their body and slip through a rupture in space.

“Watchtower’s busy today,” Moonscar commented. “Seems like lots of people are catching suits.”

“Yessir they are,” Wei’s lawyer cheered.

The young master looked on, his mind slowly putting the information together. “Wait. That figure… they are the ones that pulled the missiles and person flying at us earlier.”

“Tribulator,” Rafael breathed. “I heard of them. They are the Harbinger’s personal guardians. They are constrained to each Watchtower and act as the primary guardian of every den. They also communicate with the local Circle’s mansion and convey all details over to the Harbinger as well.”

Wei tried to reach out with his focus and glean just how powerful said Tribulator was, but he felt nothing. They were too far, and whatever their capability, it was too subtle—or weak—to sense. Yet, Bishop seemed to frown at them, face contorting with the reliving of bad memories.”

“Alright, you shits and shitets,” Schrödinger’s voice flooded the Crawler cars. “We coming up on our terminal stop from Arrivals Station. Cherub’s Corpse is coming off, so remember to finish eating, finish crying, and piss off when we stop. We’re not going to turn around if you leave anything or anyone aboard.”

Suddenly, Wei felt his stomach lurch as their train dropped at a sharp angle. They vanished through a narrow valley of buildings and Wei caught flashes of more people sitting on their windows, leaving over outer-building staircases, and in one case actively uh… copulating in public.

He coughed and looked away. This place… it was a lot to take in. A lot.

Too bad for him, the Claimed Hells wasn’t done.

Emerging into the light of… well, there wasn’t actually any day here, just the blazing ball Mepheleon used as his supposed core—Wei perceived the Crawler accelerating toward a truly absurd sight.

A set of massive skeletal remains slipped over into the edge of his Omniscience, what Wei assumed to be the Cherub’s Corpse offered him its first greetings. The remains of the giant creature was humanoid from what he could tell, but it was missing its jaw and limbs—sporting four pairs of wings that served as bridges to eight other dens across both of the Cherub’s sides. Along the spine of the Cherub trailed a dense line of architecture. Another Crawler line ran directly overhead, but there were also demonic spiders bouncing from rooftop to rooftop and people actively teleporting about. Finally, they drew close to the third rib on the Cherub’s left side, and Wei realized the station here was built on the bottom of a demonic structure.

The chimeric monstrosity they were about to enter was in the shape of a serpent made from wood, glass, and brick. It encircled the entirety of the third rib, and its head was made entirely of glass, forming what seemed to be an atrium to the outside. The length of its body was also tremendous, stretching on and on down the entirety of the rib—already far taller than most buildings Wei had seen thus far.

“Now arriving: Cherub’s Corpse Station. Get the fuck off.”

Schrödinger showed up again, walking down the aisle of the Crawler car and blowing a whistle. He blew hard and loud though everyone already heard the announcement, and he came to a stop next to Wei’s table and blew at William Yu specifically.

Which caused the Trespasser to snatch the whistle out from the goblin’s mouth and throw it down the Crawler car.

“Make noise somewhere else,” William sneered.

Schrödinger grinned at William. “Yeah. Harbinger’s congratulations at staying alive, Yu. You’re pretty good at that, considering all the enemies you’ve made. Dying Queen, the Inheritors, and now your own boy.” The goblin looked him up and down. “The offer’s still open, just so you know.”

William’s expression turned severe and Bishop studied the two carefully. Wei watched them, wanting to ask about what offer, but the hate he felt toward his father prevented him from forming the proper words. With that, though, the spell was broken, and Schrödinger shrugged and wobbled away from them.

Roggi watched the goblin pass and frowned. “What kind of rodent is that?”

“He’s not a rodent, he’s a goblin,” Wei said.

“What’s a bloody goblin?’

“Schrödinger, I suppose,” Wei said, offering the only response he was certain of.

“Enlightening, truly,” Agate rumbled. Part of his right pauldron fell off. A sigh escaped the Oathbearer. “Listen, it’s been nice seeing the tour an’ all but… is there a place we can rest for a while? Bits of my arse are still falling off from the kicking I got earlier and I need to put myself back together.”

“Yeah,” Bishop said. “Hotel’s right on top of us. Accommodations have already been made. You’re staying here today and… well, for as long as you want, really.”

“As long as we want?” Wei asked.

“Food, drink, drugs, space… Claimed Hells has all that in abundance. You won’t starve here. Won’t be homeless either. This place is pretty far past scarcity, but pretty well and fucked by human desire.” Bishop caught Wei’s incomprehension and shrugged. “You’ll see soon enough.”

As they left the Crawler, Wei took a special moment to make sure all his disciples had disembarked. As he counted the last woman off the demon, he heard a chuckle coming behind him. “Hey, kid, since I didn’t say it earlier: nice work surviving. Real nice.”

Wei managed a smile despite himself and offered Schrödinger a nod. “Your aid and the Harbinger’s patronage helped much.”

The goblin waved Wei off. “Listen—seeing as you’re with those Lodge fuckers now… just keep an eye out for yourself and understand everything you agree to. You could’ve chosen a shittier lay to get in bed with, but their problem is that they’re a bunch of saints in a barrel of sin. They’ll see you noble and dead in the end. Just like all the other kids they took under the banner.”

Moonscar shot Schrödinger a look. The goblin just sneered. “I stand by that. How’s the son, Sarah? Is he still dead?”

The towering woman’s eyes grew cold, but she offered no vengeful retort against the cruel remark. “Still dead. Still my fault.”

Wei looked on between them and noted this interaction. There was a lot of history here. And Schrödinger… perhaps he might be more than willing to elaborate on a few things down the line.

As they left the Crawler behind, Wei watched it pull away with his Omniscience—literally crawling out of this plane of existence as it left the tunnel. The interior of the station was lit by brass chandeliers and hovering balls of ectoplasmic energy. As they climbed the staircase, Wei finally saw some other people aside from his group, but noted they were mostly liches.

“Crossroad lackies,” Rafael sneered.

Wei noted their formal attire and various badges hanging from their necks. Most chattered and spoke to each other, talking about events across the day, a few others, however, stood alone and herding a procession of people on a leash. Wei noticed one such procession pass him by and caught sight of a psionic network connecting each of their minds to the lich. Three boys and three girls formed the lich’s stable, and they were at once far too young, far too underdressed, and far too rank with alcohol and other substances for Wei’s comfort.

“Degenerate!” Rafael spat.

The merchant—dressed in a fabulous silken longcoat turned and threw up his arms in confused annoyance. “What? They were on sale.” He gave no further justification after that. Just kept walking. Wasn’t even outraged.

“Do you see now,” Rafael said. “Do you see what they do to our worlds? What wrongness pervades within their spirits.”

It was an ugly sight, but slavery was the lot of the unfortunate or weak. To inflict such a thing on children, however… Such a thing was to be only done if one sought to sever the nine and rip their enemy’s dynasty at its roots. Wei knew that his mother had culled a few rival sects in their time. Was this something similar? A custom of victory, perhaps?

“It’s not fate,” Rafael hissed, seething with outrage. “It’s wrongness. It’s vile. There is no justification for it. Look upon them, Wei. Use your Outsight. Glimpse into the horror, and understand what we face—the ones you must break—”

“Hey,” Bishop snarled, stepping close to Rafael. “I don’t know if you’re dim or just an angry fucking dipshit, but you better keep that shit close to your chest or I’m going to tear those memories out of your mind. We don’t need to broadcast what he’s got going to everyone, and we certainly don’t need to provoke another fight right now.”

Rafael flinched away from the older Trespasser and Bishop let out a breath from his nostrils. “I know you're pissed. Believe me, it’s all kinds of fucked. But we’re not going to do any good right now if we just get sued to death. Like it or now, ownership rights are flexible here. We’re in hell, Rafael. Hell.”

But while Bishop chewed out Wei’s lich, the young master did as Rafael asked—if only for curiosity—and used his Outsight on one of the children.

Immediately, an oppressive sensation hit him. A crushing weight collapsed upon his perception, causing a dim haze to layer over his eyes, a numbness to slow his thoughts, and a spiritual agony to infest his bloody, rot his very bones. His life as nothing but hollow pleasure and his body was for public use. This new master was nice, though. This new master had him eat tasty things and use fun drugs. He wasn’t forced to eat his brother’s flesh and or let them—

A flash of horrific memories speared into Wei’s mind as he broke his Outsight connection. His Ambition reeled back into his own being and he stumbled against someone—someone who caught.

“No… no… no…” Wei caught himself saying.

“It’s alright.” Wei froze. The voice. Those arms. He pulled himself away from his father and refused to face the man. “You’re alright. You just—”

“I’m fine,” Wei said, blinking to clear those thoughts. Rafael was right. This was wrong. This place was wrong in so many ways.

He cast a final look at the child he dove into. A bald, fair-skinned boy walked at the head of the group. That was the one Wei superimposed his senses over. How old was he? Ten? Younger? What was this place? How Mepheleon allow this?

Resisting trauma using Aspect of (Ambition)

Wei shook his head and looked to Bishop. “Lead us. Take us to the hotel. I wish to… to get rest.”

Bishop grimaced. “Yeah. That’s understandable.”