Yeah. The “Realmbreaker.” I’m not calling him that. The little bastard’s ego is already large enough as it is. If I pop and kill him for good, the bloody princess might actually try to put me to her flame. Might be the Scion of Death, but being disfigured and mutilated physically and spiritually isn’t really a fun experience.

Still. Wouldn’t have made it this far without him. Would’ve been little more than just a slave for some power broker in hell. Always a pawn for someone else’s game. I owe him more than I could ever tell. And so I just don’t tell him. Because, again, his head's too big, and the fucker might just pop with another sweet nothing whispered about his deeds…

-Vendrian, Death’s Bastard

II-57

Making a Friend

“I think it’s perfectly obvious who slew the Souldrinker,” Wei said, rubbing at the lump that was slowly healing on his forehead. Across from him stood the Bastard, frosted armor covered in a layer of entrails and gore. The wolverines Wei inflicted on him were nowhere to be seen, and the young master did his best not to think of their unfortunate fates. Still, the glower in the man’s eyes was more than a little amusing.

“Fuck. You.” Death’s Bastard replied, seething through clenched teeth. His long locks of hair were slick with viscera and melted shards of frost, but the corners of his lips were wobbling up and down as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to bash Wei’s skull against the walls or laugh.

A sigh sounded from the blade he left planted in the ground beside him. “Children. You are both children. This entire thing is absurd. We’ve already slain our foe—laid them low and survived this ordeal. And now you two are considering a duel? Over who gets to label the other a slur?”

“It is not about the slur but the principle,” Wei said holding his arms wide. “This was agreed upon. And if it remains undone, then who are we but liars?”

A low growl of approval came from the Bastard. “Yeah.”

“Maddening,” Mourning said. “If that is the case, does not that mean I have the right to deem either of you… the word.”

“A bitch,” the Bastard grunted.

“Yes. That word.”

“No,” Wei said, rolling his eyes. “You are a sword. How can a sword dub a person something.”

“I was the very thing that killed the Souldrinker!”

“I was the one that drove you in,” Wei said, sneering. “Your logic is flawed. You weren’t going to slay anything without my aid.”

“That’s because you stopped me first! You pulled me to a halt and stopped me so you could steal the kill for yourself.”

“Please. You both ambushed me with a blast of ice. We should hardly be arguing over such trifling matters.”

“What happened with that anyway?” The Bastard asked. “I thought I froze you.”

“I pulled someone out of my Inventory to take the hit.”

“Huh. No shit. Did it pretty quick.”

“I used some Essence to hide what I was doing.”

“Yeah. I’ve seen you do that a few times. Neat trick. Bit of a sneak-shit strategy, but it works.”

“It was a necessity. You’re quite fast. And very strong.”

“Yeah, well,” the Bastard shrugged. “You have to have something going for you, right?”“A few,” Wei said. “You’re not unskilled with your blades and fists, either.”

“Yeah. Had a few years to train. But what the fuck’s up with you? How the hell do you fight the way you do? You’re barely out of diapers.”

“I’m almost an adult,” Wei said, trying to keep his tone even.

“Yeah. Say that when you grow taller.”

“I will!” Wei hissed.

A sudden quiet settled between them. Just then, Wei noticed most of his disciples standing over the ruined body of the Souldrinker, watching the conversation unfold. Agnesia’s expression was grave, and she spoke constantly to her mother while the former queen’s face was fixed to the ground, downcast.

By grit, surprise, and no small amount of Rafael’s efforts, the disciples all survived. However, a few were missing a limb or two, and some needed to see a healer for more serious wounds. Psychologically…. That was a problem to consider later.

“But seriously,” the Bastard continued. “How in the Hound do you fight like that?”

“I’m a cultivator,” Wei replied. “Our fate is to war against the heavens and fate. There is no other way. I had to be skilled, or a dark fate would be one that awaited me.” It still might be if he didn’t increase his power. After slaying the Souldrinker, his Class Level had risen a few more times again.

Achievement: [Defy the Odds] — Slay a foe multiple Essence Tiers superior to you. Allows you to drastically increase a Title or Skill generation for one of your Class’s Concept Cores.

Free Points: [30]

Aspects

Strength: 1054

Speed: 862

Enlightenment: 724

Awareness: 737

Constitution: 655

Will: 834

Another major gain. But Wei needed to use his System more. His battle against the Souldrinker had been a bitter lesson. For all his martial mastery, it only took one slip, one mistake, one moment for everything to be turned against him.

Scanning his disciples, he saw they had grown immensely as well, with some gaining up to 15 levels. Normally, he would be overjoyed, but this entire expedition had proven to be a high risk affair. Several of them could have been lost, and the thoughts of their deaths gnawed at him. Already, he was getting used to seeing some of them. Garret, complaining about something or another. Mira, who was cleaning her knives while mocking Garret. The Orc Cheft, walking from person to person, handing out “thank god we lived cupcakes.” The Hivekin draining away mental fatigue. Rafael, actively harvesting things from the Souldrinker and the other Bloodspawn with the help of the Oathbearers. He seemed to be collecting blood most of all.

The nest had quieted now. The walls of blood were quivering, slowly losing cohesion and stability. Wei didn’t think it would be able to hold its weight for long, and the Bastard said it would be better to wait for it to collapse and just walk out.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Just a shame there wasn’t any good Artifacts to claim or things to take. Something felt missing for Wei. His fingers itched.

“The Collectress is going to have questions for us,” the Bastard said.

“Oh, and why is that?” Wei asked. “Does she expect me to be dead? Taken by your father?”

The Bastard nodded grimly. “Something like that. I’m guessing that’s half the reason why she sent me in with you. To take you or someone close to you off the board. I don’t know. Can’t be sure about anything she’s doing.”

“I suspect her schemes now intersect the Harbinger’s,” Wei replied. “I think I caught a pulse of his presence earlier when I was inside the Souldrinker. The Dying Queen tried to infuse the creature with more of her power, but something else denied her. Someone else.”

“Fuck. Looks like there are leashes leading all the way up.” The Bastard gave an exhausted sigh. “No way out.”

“Not unless we grow stronger. And start playing a game of our own.”

The Bastard cocked his head and studied Wei. “‘We.’”

“I assume you have no desire to remain the Collectress’s slave?”

The Scion of Death didn’t say anything, but Wei read the man’s eyes. And where he was absent words, his sister spoke quite clearly. “Wei. We cannot ask for your aid in this. We have nothing to offer, and against the Collectress, you have nothing to lose—”

“I’m just going to kill her,” Wei said.

The Bastard blinked. “What?”

“I am prideful but… nowhere near politically versed enough to engage in trickery or schemes against someone so entrenched. And she clearly has plans within plans. Whatever her plans, they were designed to be toward my disadvantage, and if your plight is true, and she seeks one of mine.” Wei looked to Agnesia. “Then this is cause enough. She is now my enemy as well. Is enough of an enemy for what she has done to you.”

The Bastard opened and closed his mouth several times. “I…”

“Wei, your willingness is heartening, but it will be suicide if you just intend to face her in battle. She will never accept, and she will turn her methods to the subtle and insidious.”

“Of course. I will not approach her directly. I just need to find someone she wants. Perhaps something to do with the Dying Queen and stipulate the conditions of its release in a duel. Or something like that.”

“I… might have an idea,” the Bastard whispered. “No. Not an idea. Just a solution. An impossible one, if you can manage it.”

“What’s that?” Wei asked.

“The way I work… my Bloodline works is that whenever I die, I become a conduit for the Hound, and in place, someone I know, I have a connection to is pulled across the final end in my stead. These connections are not limited to friend or family, though it does start with them. It does start with them.” He grew quiet.

“Bastard?” Wei asked, taking a step closer. The man didn’t look well.

“Vendrian,” the Bastard said. “That’s my name. Call me Vendrian.” And strangely, Wei felt a tightening of Essence between him and Vendrian, as if an invisible knot had drawn their spirits closer on some inexorable level. “Be nice to hear it from someone that doesn’t own me. Used to from my family. Used to.”

“Brother…” Mourning said, her own voice thick with pain.

“My Bloodline,” Vendrian said, starting again. “If I die. If am cut down, someone else will fall in place. When I was captured, the Collectress took my family too, and every time I disobeyed her, she slew me, so that one of them would die. Now, there is only my wife, Aerea, and my child. My unborn child… If you can somehow… break their link to me with your System, or have the Harbinger shield them from me, then I can only draw two more people across the Final End: the Collectress, and you.”

And Vendrian’s scheme began to take shape. As far as potential assassinations went, this one was abstract and strange on another level. “I see.” Wei nodded. “Then, I suppose it will be up to me to steal your wife and child from the Collectress, slay you, and then kill the Collectress when we are both pulled across into the Final End. Simple enough.”

“Simple enough?” Mourning murmured in disbelief. “I…”

“Come on, sis. Of course he’s an arrogant madman. A sane person would never offer to just kill A Count-Tier adversary to begin with.”

“A sane person,” Wei scoffed. “A sane person lives his entire life kissing feet and licking the fecal waste of his better, and calls enduring such miserable conditions until his untimely death by degeneration wisdom. The ordinary are but the slaves of fate.”

Vendrian just stared without blinking. “This isn’t even an act with you, huh. You actually believe everything you’re saying.”

“Of course. Why would I accept anything less?”

Against all odds, Vendrian laughed. And a section of the dome-shaped blood walls came crashing down like a falling waterfall. What little Spatial Essence remained within the ichor was draining down to their last.

“Won’t be long now.” Wei said. “You have any idea what our story should be when we all return without any losses?”

“Just say the fight was too easy,” Vendrian replied. “Barely a challenge.”

The once-threaded nest began to drip and spill from above. Wei shifted to the right, avoiding splash of gore. “Rafael! Physical wards.”

“Already working on it,” Rafael said. “I can see the blood coming down too. Don’t treat me like I’m blind.”

Wei frowned slightly at that. The lich sounded vaguely frustrated. Might need to check why later.

Symbols flashed overhead, forming an umbrella-like series of constellations. As the blood came crashing down and the golden resplendence of the throne room beyond shone through, Wei watched as the blood cascaded along the curve of Rafael’s working and let out a breath. The journey beyond the final end left him shaken as well. But he had seen his mother again, his sect, his family.

The moment was… was beyond the reach of his hope. Until it wasn’t. But then there was his father, Ellena’s true fate, and the arrangement between him and the Hound. The weight pressing down on his shoulders grew heavier with each passing day, and he ached. He just ached.

He was tired.

“Wei.” Which made this the perfect moment for John Bishop to star speaking to him again.

Master Bishop. How long have you been here.

“Entire time, kid. Couldn’t risk something going to shit.”

Then why didn’t you intervene earlier? And did you know? About Ellena. Did you know?

“No. Sarah did. I just suspected.”

And you never told me…

“Wei. You can be pissed at me or curse at me, but let’s not bullshit ourselves. I can feel the state of your mind. You’re close. Someone is on the verge of breaking. Telling you that after everything you survived in the hearted realm would have ruined you. Best that you learn this way. And it’s good that you made contact with Death’s Bastard, ‘cause now you have a way to get at the Collectress.”

I assume you have some recommendations for what I’m planning.

“Oh, son, recommendations? I have an entire unfinished godsdamned operation I intend to show you.” Bishop sounded positively giddy, and if Wei were to be honest with himself, his interest was piqued as well. However, there were other things he wished to deal with before returning to the Old Man and the Collectress, other people he wanted to speak to. “Ah. Yeah. Go talk to them, Wei. I won’t claim to know the specifics behind the deal that the Harbinger made, but I’ll do what I can to see if we can… fix this.”

Somehow, Bishop didn’t sound too convinced. I could try to break her link to the Hound.

“That link is the only thing still keeping her here, Wei. The Withering is basically her Essence now. She stays for as long as the God of Death allows.”

And… how long does she have?

A beat followed. “I don’t know, kid. But it’s never long enough. It’s always too short.”

More of the nest crumbled, and the young master climbed upon the corpse of the Souldrinker as he made for Agnesia and Ellena.

“No! I will not accept this! We—there are still things we can do! Wei—he’ll come up with an idea. He’ll find a way—” Agnesia was about to continue her raving, but her mother placed a single hand on her arm.

“No,” Ellena said quietly. “I… I think I am already dead. And I think there is no undoing this.”

“I won’t accept that,” Agnesia growled. Her voice deepened and flames danced down her form. “I won’t!”

“Agnesia,” Wei said, interjecting into the conversation. She turned and faced him, eyes bright with fire and defiance.

“Wei, tell her—”

“Agnesia. The nest will be collapsing soon. I need you to steel yourself. We cannot let the Count or the Collectress know.” As he approached Ellena, and she turned to look at him, he felt his guts turned to liquid. He flinched. “I… I am sorry. I wish I could have—I wasn’t—”

She reached out and pulled him into her embrace. “It’s not your fault,” Ellena whispered into his ear. “And you have already done more than anyone could have asked.”

“But it wasn’t enough,” Wei said, looking up as to hold himself together.

“Sometimes, we aren’t. And that is alright. It has to be. There is no other way.”

And despite warmth in her voice, the words settled into Wei like a searing poison.

A poison he couldn’t accept. A poison he would reject.

There had to be a way. There had to be.