Many-Wed. Now there’s a piece of work. And that’s saying something considering what I do. Selling guns is one thing, but kidnapping kids from their families and forcing them to be “bound” to you? That’s a special kind of low. Don’t matter if her Class requires it.

And then there’s what she does to them, how she tortures them with that Corrosive Song of hers…

Yeah. Can’t wait to see her get what’s coming.

-Hogslave, Knight of Greed

II-32

Humiliation (I)

"Do you think he's all right?" Agnesia asked again, for the thirteenth time that hour.

"I'm sure he's entirely fine, Agnesia," her mother replied, rolling her eyes slightly. "Let him have his time. He said this other Cultivator was from his world, so it is likely going to be a difficult conversation."

Agnesia bit her lip. "Still, I don't think any of us should be alone right now, not for any prolonged periods. We're being hunted!”

“You know that just means we're in more bloody danger, right?" Garret the Shadow Archer leaned back, his focus mostly fixed on the fight happening below. Right now, the arena resembled a storm-cast sea, with the battlefield designed around a raging maelstrom.

Hours earlier, a giant slot had appeared in the sky. As its dials rotated, the environment regenerated based on a combination of Essences—water, disaster, storms. What it created was chaos: a whirlpool with a kraken at the center. A kraken demon that had its own class. Multi-Armed Duelist. Each of its eight arms held cutlasses as long as a small island chain, slashing and carving through the sinners brave—or foolish—enough to stand before it.

With each massive swing of its gargantuan blades, jets of pressurized water whipped across the horizon, cleaving anything in their path. Below, sinners teleported and leapt across a myriad of platforms that drifted atop the raging waters. As it was a maelstrom, everything was constantly in motion. Rocks and tentacles fell from above, obstacles that forced contestants to dodge or die.

Right now, an immense minotaur had grown to match the kraken’s size and was grappling with one of its arms. It was not faring well. Two of the kraken’s blades were lodged through its gut, and a third was streaking toward its head. A loud squelch followed. A roaring cheer erupted across the Bloodgrounds The orc chef gagged again, doubling over in the corner.

"As I said," the Garret grinned, sniffing as he relished the violence, "we’re the ones who need protection. If I was going to come after us—and believe me, I’ve done things like this before—I’d be going after..." He surveyed the room. "Well, hell, I’d be going after someone like me first. Low Essence Level, not that skilled, at least comparatively."

Both Agnesia and her mother turned sharp glares on the former bowman of the late Ser Angeleous. Shadow Archer gave them an apologetic shrug. "Just trying to be honest."

"I still haven’t forgotten what you tried to do," Agnesia snapped, the air around her flickering with black fire. Garrett averted his gaze, pretending the conversation wasn’t happening.

"If we’re really worried, I could potentially just send him a message," Rafael mused, his mechanical voice unusually light.

"No," Agnesia said quickly, though she really wanted to. "Just give him time, like Mother said. Knowing Wei, he might be..." She paused, considering what trouble Wei might have gotten himself into. Given his track record, he was likely about to drag them all into a bloody fight sooner or later—or, worse, find a way to elevate his own class while conveniently leaving everyone else out of it.

She bit her lip, imagining how this might play out. "Actually, Rafael, I think we might want to prepare some defenses. Some ciphers. Also, maybe a way out, in case things go wrong."

"What?" Rafael asked, tilting his head. “Why?”

"Well, you know how Wei is—how things tend to devolve into utter bloodshed around him."

Raphael stared at her for a long moment. As another chorus of cheers echoed from the Bloodgrounds below, his gaze shifted down to see the kraken splattering a dozen Sinners on a platform.

"You know," Rafael said, "I can imagine him killing that kraken. Cutting it in half. Boasting about it."

"I can too," Agnesia admitted.

Ellena quietly nodded.

Roggi and the other Oathbearers both let out gunting laughs. "Oh, I think it’s inevitable," Rogi said. "He brought us here to see a fight. Well, our Symphonist got real pride in him. I expect he’s going to get involved in the bloodshed."

"So it’s agreed, then," Agnesia said with a sigh. "We’re probably going to be attacked before this is over."

"Oh yeah, most definitely," Roggi nodded.

"Yes," Raphael agreed, already beginning to carve ciphers into the air. "We really should have seen this coming ahead of time."

"Don’t you all think you’re being a little paranoid?" the Hivekin of the sect asked, still patting the trembling orc chef on the back.

"No," most of the sect responded in unison.

Mira Nocturne simply laughed. "I’d never have made it out of the Hearted Realm of Greed if he wasn’t so bloody murderous. I’m telling you, that boy’s got a touch of violence in him. Which is, really, really good for us.”

***

From the spatial rift came veins of lightning, prying at the fabric of existence. Heralded by this exultation of power was Silt of Storms. The figure that emerged was a large serpent-like humanoid—a Naga, according to Wei’s System. As the creature slithered forward, he studied their Class.

Silt of Storms: Bringer of Lightning Unbidden Lv. 145

The Naga’s glowing, storm-blue eyes gleamed like shards of energy. Orbiting her were shards of fluid metal—ferromagnetic debris—charged with electricity, infused with magnetic chains.

"I underestimated your resolve, Sage," Silt said, her voice crackling with static as she laughed. "I did not think you’d be so bold as to let us into your own abode. Are you foolish? Or simply suicidal?"

Her tone was filled with contempt, and throughout her speech, she barely gave Wei a second glance.

Behind her, an even grander figure loomed.

Countess Many-wed.

At first, she appeared human. The upper portion of her body emerged, revealing—sharp cheekbones, violet eyes, and short white hair. Layers of translucent veils glided around her like spirits, casting her as an ethereal, haunting beauty.

But only her upper half was human.

The rest of her was something monstrous—a fusion of spider, centipede, and machine. Her thorax was metallic, steam hissing from the many segmented limbs that slammed into the ground with jarring weight. Her body was adorned with engravings of screaming, tormented men—young men, their despair frozen in alloy.

Selv Many-wed: Melodist of the Unrequited Cage Lv. ???

Wei felt a deep foreboding. No one normal walks around adorned with regalia of torment. Why was everyone some kind of psychotic degenerate in the Claimed Hells? When did being a normal killer go out of fashion.

Unlike Silt, the Countess did regard Wei, her eyes narrowing in slight confusion as they lingered on him. But a moment later, her attention shifted back to the Sage, and she dismissed Wei with a flick of her hand.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

"I see that you are currently occupied," she said smoothly. "Perhaps we could come back later, after your guest leaves."

"No," Wei interjected, cutting off the Sage before he could respond. "I need to be here."

Silt of Storms turned her glowing eyes onto Wei, slithering forward with an unnerving grace. Her towering form loomed over him, the magnetic shards orbiting her body like a storm on the verge of breaking.

“And who are you?” Silt hissed, her voice low and edged with menace.

Wei didn’t flinch. He wasn’t impressed by her display of intimidation, though he silently noted the sharpness in her presence—a sense of refined lethality born from countless battles.

The Many-wed’s voice interrupted before Wei could answer. "Silt," she said smoothly, her tone velvet but unmistakably commanding. There was no warmth in it, no interest in sparing Wei. To her, he simply wasn’t worth killing. Not yet.

“Before we proceed,” the Countess continued, her gleaming violet eyes narrowing, “perhaps you would introduce yourself, strange guest.”

Wei met her gaze evenly. "I am Wei An Wei," he said clearly, his voice cutting through the tense atmosphere. "Cultivator. Survivor of Evernest’s destruction. I had business with the Sage. We share a history."

The room shifted. Wei caught the slight widening of the Countess’s eyes, the faint quickening of her heartbeat, and the tiniest twitch in her expression. Whatever she’d heard of him, it had caught her attention.

“You?” she murmured, studying him intently. “You are the self-made? The one who passed through the Moongraves alone? The one rumored to have survived the Hearted Realm and butchered the Inheritors?” Her words were slow and deliberate, and Wei noticed a faint flicker of interest in her expression.

Wei smirked faintly. “People tell many stories,” he said. “Sometimes, legends pale before the actual person.”

A soft, lilting laugh escaped the Many-wed’s lips, her veils swirling around her with unnatural grace. “Oh, bold. Arrogant. Delicious.”

She disgusted him. Already, the Sage was turning into his third least favorite person in the room.

Silt of Storms, did not share the Countesses amusement. She turned her glowing gaze to her master and hissed, “Many-wed, we spoke of this. You can sample new dishes any time, but do it away from me.”

She pointed a clawed finger at the Sage, and as she did, the ferromagnetic debris orbiting her body sharpened into jagged lances of metal, glinting with deadly intent.

Wei’s system had already begun analyzing her movements, and the Shell chimed in. “Observe the metallic fragments,” it said. “Note how they adhere to her will. She likely uses them as a basic attack. Watch her control. She will prove an interesting foe to sharpen our skills.”

“I hope so,” Wei muttered under his breath, his eyes flicking toward Silt. She wasn’t the most overwhelming presence he’d faced—not as crushing as the Graviton Brawler, nor as overwhelming as the Celestial Vanguard—but there was a precision to her, a focus that promised danger.

The way she directed her Essence told him belayed a fine dexterity.

Silt of Storms turned her attention back to the Sage, ignoring Wei’s presence entirely. “So then, Sage,” she said coldly, her voice dripping with disdain, “ignoring our most fascinating new friend, is this invitation valid? Are you to accept my offer of honorable surrender?”

The Sage looked at her for a long moment, then sank lower onto his stool. He let out a bitter laugh and shook his head. “I fear you might have overestimated me, Countess,” he said, his tone defeated. “Once again, I am…” He hesitated, then gestured toward Wei. “Just a side character in my own life.”

The Many-wed tilted her head curiously as the Sage continued.

“Our new friend here,” the Sage said, motioning toward Wei, “is of the Drowned Sky Sect. If you know anything of my past—if your agents have done any worthwhile research—you’d know that it was his clan that pushed me to escape my realm.”

“Truly?” the Countess said, her violet eyes narrowing. She turned back to Wei, licking her lips slightly. “So, have you come to settle old grudges?” Wei met her gaze without flinching. “I fear I cannot allow this,” the Countess added before Wei could speak. “I have an arrangement with the Sage.”

Wei smirked, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m aware of your arrangement,” he said.

“So, tell me, why have you injected yourself into our little feud?”

“Because he is nothing. Just a shadow of a man. And I am everything a Cultivator should be. If there is someone to represent Evernest, then it should be me. Only I am worthy. And,” the young master took a step closer to Silt, looking up at the Naga. “I wonder if this one might make a fine pair of boots.”

Silt’s eyes widened. “Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“No,” Wei said. “It’s just a challenge. A matter of personal pride. I care little for the Sage, but he and I are all that remain of Evernest. I will not abide by your vile intentions for his son either, nor will I stand idly by while his worthless weakling of a father fails him once more.”

The Sage grimaced, his fists clenching, but he said nothing, only raising his bottle to his lips in a pitiful attempt to suppress his rage.

“So this is a matter of personal pride,” the Many-wed mused.

“No,” Wei replied. “It’s a matter of wealth.”

“Oh?” the Countess leaned back, a playful smile spreading across her face. “Do tell.”

Silt of Storms, however, glowered at Wei with suspicion. “What are you playing at?” she growled.

Wei ignored her and locked eyes with the Countess. “The bargain starts with ten billion sins being wagered,” he said calmly. “Lawyer!”

Out from a burst of radiance came the small demon. It bounded on the young master’s shoulder and pulled out its briefcase. “Hey, boss, who are we suing now? Oh, boy, I sure do like how exciting you’ve made—”

“Not a suit, but an offer. Draft a document: I wish to duel the Many-wed’s champion for ten billion Sins. To the death.”

“You got it, boss!” With a crackle of hellfire, a large stack manifested from the small demon, its pages dense with hellish script with two empty lines for Wei and the Countess to sign. To further impress his seriousness, the young master infused 10 billion Sins into the document immediately, leaving no dispute to his truthfulness.”

A beat of choked silence followed. Both Silt and Many-wed looked at each other. Then, the Countess’s façade cracked for the first time, greed burning behind her eyes. “Ten billion Sins?” she repeated. She whistled, and Wei felt the tune assail his mind, pull at his senses.

Resisted [Siren’s Note] with Aspect of (Ambition)

“Ah,” the Shell said. “Another mental adversary. Be mindful of her tricks. Notice how the Essence around her vibrates. Disrupting that is the key bringing her down. She is powerful. Moreso than her champion, but less than the Old Man of the Circle of Pride or Bishop. We can face her. We can break her.”

The Countess let out a soft laugh, regaining her composure. “And what, exactly, do you want in return?”

Wei’s smile sharpened. “All your invested Significance. As for Silt, well, a legal killing makes me the inheritor of her favor.”

The room fell silent again. Even the Countess blinked, momentarily stunned.

“Face me?” Silt of Storms hissed, her metallic shards vibrating with lethal intent. “You’re just a Knight! You think because you—”

“Silence, dog,” Wei replied casually. “The masters are speaking.”

A crackle of electricity rushed out from the Naga as she hissed in his face. The young master swatted her tongue aside in annoyance. “I’ll make you hurt, boy,” she seethed. “I’ll teach you what it means to suffer.”

The Countess observed him, her lips curling into a sly smile. “Bold. Arrogant. Stupid. Very well.” She glanced at Silt and nodded. “Silt. You are up for an exhibition before the main course?”

Wei narrowed his eyes at the Countess. She was insulting him, still regarding the Sage as the main threat.

“I can do with an appetizer,” Silt chuckled.

“And you, Sage?” Many-wed asked.

The Sage put down the bottle and regarded Wei. “Well. I must be honest: This is more than I would ever do for you.”

“That just makes me the better Cultivator?” Wei replied.

The supposed Ascended Elder scoffed. “Fine. Die in my name, then. I’ll drink to you before my own end.”

“Then, it is settled,” the Countess said, gliding up to Wei. “I abide by your wish.” She leaned down, producing a quill from her Inventory. “Though I suspect this moment of yours won’t turn out how you like it.” As she signed the form, she pressed her lips together. “Perhaps you would be interested in a… alternative—”

“There is no life I become your concubine,” Wei snorted. “The very idea is laughable. And you are far too… wanting.”

The Countess froze. For the first time, the casual smirk vanished from her face, and he saw a simmer of barely controlled rage. “A pity. I was going to tell Silt to spare you.”

Wei regarded the Naga again and shook his head. “It wouldn’t have mattered. Now. Let’s see about expediating things, shall we. I’ve had enough disappointment for one day.”

***

As the kraken killed the last of the competitors, a loud broadcast echoed across the Bloodgrounds.

“Attention, all spectators,” the baritone voice roared. “The match between the Midnight Sage and Silt of Storms has been adjusted. To showcase Silt of Storms’ prowess and to give a newcomer a chance to showcase their skills, Countess Many-wed of the Circle of Envy has generously agreed to an additional preliminary match. A new contender has entered the field. Introducing Wei An Wei of the Drowned Sky Sect!”

Agnesia, watching from their reserved platform, threw her head back and barked a laugh. “I knew he was going to do something like this,” she muttered.

“He always does,” Rafael said, as he carved another defensive sign into the ceiling. Reference Circuits extended from it into every last disciple of the sect, using their Essence as fuel for a forming array.

Just then, a large roulette formed in the air again, with three slots spinning this time. The first symbol landed on what a symbol with the subtitle ASH, the second with a subtitle WASTES, a third with the modifier UNFALLEN.

A wave of Spatial Essence swallowed the kraken. At once, the great, raging sea twisted and changed. Power flowed through the Bloodgrounds, as the killing floor was altered once more for the coming bloodshed.