Chapter 93 – Floor 9: Part 14

The woman who had chastised Carlie walked into the center of the circle of Demon Lords and introduced herself. The effects of Carlie’s Blessing had worn off, leaving the others troubled and angry at the actions of their supposed ‘ally.’

Mathew suppressed the rage he felt, the unconscious response to the Beguiler’s attempt to interfere with his thoughts. But, no matter how controlled he was, he couldn’t stifle the hatred he felt at the moment.

It was obvious that Carlie felt it was ‘just a joke.’ She had even shrugged it off after her companion told her to stop. But Mathew saw it as an attack, as serious as if she had hurled a spear or stabbed him with a knife.

“I am Corrina. Highborn and the fourth-ranked Demon Lord.” Corrina introduced herself, and Mathew studied her carefully.

Corrina wore a long, black dress with a white shawl across her shoulders. She was adorned in more jewelry than Mathew had seen one person wear, from multiple necklaces and bracelets. Corrina even wore a crown, a graceful silver headdress that swept back from her forehead and arched upwards into a sort of halo.

Despite her appearance, which was incredibly attractive, Mathew was instantly put off and wary of her. There was an arrogance to her demeanour, a tilt of her head and the way she held herself that spoke of everything and everyone was beneath her.

Carlie had retreated next to Corrina, and Mathew could see a resemblance between them. They were related in some way, but with their ages and the way the Tower could revert the flow of time, Mathew couldn’t say how.

And he wasn’t about to ask.

Corrina glided back to her place; her Chronicler was an old woman who didn’t make eye contact with her assigned Demon Lord. Every move they made and every word they spoke was recorded for their Cathedral’s records.

The next Demon Lord walked forward to introduce himself, but first, he leered and ogled every woman in sight. He was large, but unlike Marvin, who was muscular, this man was bulky and round. Wearing leather and steel armour, he had rolls of fat protruding through the seams, and it seemed like they were too small for him.

Worse, his clothing was soiled with flakes of food and grease that also matted his long, scraggly beard. His eyes, which had been scanning the room, locked onto Carlie and didn’t leave, even when he was walking past her.

The Beguiler gave him the middle finger, to which the man laughed off as he sauntered into the center of the pavilion.

“You all should know who I am by now, but I’ll introduce myself to the few losers who are out of the loop. I’m Lucas, Brigand and the Third Demon Lord.” Lucas stated, giving a wink and a smile at Carlie before turning his attention to Corinna, who was frowning at his behaviour.

“Lighten up. You’d be more attractive if you smiled more, for Christ’s sake.” Lucas said teasingly before strutting back to his spot. Carlie tried to speak but was stopped by Corrina’s hand on her shoulder. With a loud huff, the Beguiler settled down.

“That leaves me.” Another man said, taking his place. Dressed in rags, the man was balding and covered in scars and sores. He seemed frail, and his hands shook as he rubbed them together nervously. Mathew studied him carefully. How could this poor man be the second strongest of them all?

“Ludvig. I’m a Wretch, and I’m supposed to be the second Demon Lord. It’s a pleasure to meet you all. Especially you, Joseph. I’m glad I could finally put a face to a name.” Ludvig said, already walking toward the Illusionist with his hand outstretched.

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Automatically, Joseph moved to shake his hand when Kristen stopped him.

“Don’t touch him!” She hissed, her white eyes were locked onto Ludvig, and she was trembling in fear. Ludvig seemed confused about the reaction, shifting nervously and shyly for a moment. When he knew that no one would shake his hand, he changed.

His attitude completely shifted. No longer nervous or fearful, he grinned ruefully and rubbed a hand over his balding head.

“Shit. Almost had him. He looked tasty, too. Shitty oracles and their visions. I’ll remember that, bitch.” Ludvig called out as he returned to his place.

Mathew now understood why Aster wanted the Upper Ranks to be united against these people. They were all truly terrible, each in their own unique and awful way. Mathew doubted he could trust any of them, nor would he want to spend any significant amount of time around Ranks 6 and below.

‘I’m glad that I held onto my Aether. I wouldn’t want to count myself amongst that group.’ Mathew thought as his eyes flicked from one person to the next. But of everyone here, there was one figure that filled him with dread and anxiety.

The last of the Demon Lords had her arms crossed as she watched everyone else with a small grin on her face. There was something feral about it like she was a hungry predator watching her prey. She appeared normal, or mundane compared to the rest of those present.

Wearing a short, black motorcycle jacket, she had matched it with a white tank top and blue jeans. Her skin was pale like she had never been exposed to the sun before, but her lips were bright red to match her crimson eyes.

“Well, that was enjoyable. Don’t worry, Ludvig; there will be plenty of other opportunities for you to slake your thirst. My name is Mercy, and I’m the First Ranked Demon Lord, which means you all are now my underlings. If you don’t like that, I’m more than happy to listen to your concerns.” Mercy informed them, her tone dripping with insincerity.

“You forgot to include your Discipline.” Alivia said, and a few of the others nodded their heads at her statement. Mercy let out a sigh and began to study her nails. Mathew noticed they were lacquered black.

“I didn’t forget, I just have no intention of announcing it.” Mercy replied.

“Then we have no intention of working with you.” Alivia countered. It was not only rude to not let your allies know your Discipline, but it gave insight into your personality, traits or relationship with the gods of the Tower. Even Mathew, who was a Villain, let the others know about it.

After all, it didn’t ‘define’ him; he just didn’t have much of a choice in its selection. He suspected it had been a trick by Mischievous Depravity to get him to this floor.

“You will be working with us. You don’t have a choice.” Lucas growled, and Mercy smiled at her companion.

“Of course, they have a choice. It’s just that they would never be stupid enough to attempt to work alone. The Lords and Ladies of this land are no pushovers. You need us.” Mercy added, and Alivia scoffed at the comment.

“We’re using their rankings, moron. They know who among us is the biggest threat. I bet that, without us, they’ll be knocking on your door within a week. We’ll see how strong and united you are then.” Alivia added, and Aleks joined in.

“She’s right, partners. I reckon that they will start with you lot first, especially you, Lucas. Your territory is right by their Eastern Trade route. They won’t want you getting your ugly mitts on their coin.” Lucas said, tipping his cowboy hat up and flicking the end of his lit cigarette to shake off the ashes.

Mercy stared at them for a moment before letting out a small sigh and turning to look at Mathew.

“Mathew, you have some sway amongst your side. I’ve heard you have been called a ‘survivor,’ keeping a united front is the only way we will endure this floor. Convince these idiots that they must work with us.” Mercy said, waving her hand dismissively toward the others.

Mathew stayed silent, trying to remain distant from this heated discussion when Kristen spoke up from near him. Her white eyes were locked onto Mercy, and her lips had been moving silently as if she were in discussion with someone unseen.

“Fiend Tainted.” Kristen whispered, and Mathew froze at the statement. Mercy, who had been calm and composed up to this point, flushed red as her eyes narrowed dangerously.

“What did you say?” Alivia asked, her head whipped around to stare at Kristen.

“Contaminated. Corrupted. Traitorous.” Kristen continued; each word hit Mathew like a hammer, and his body tensed. He knew what she meant.

“You were an Adherent of the Outer Deity.” Mathew stated in a voice hoarse from the strain of containing his emotions.

Mercy was silent, but Mathew knew the truth. He could see the signs about her now. The Adherents had a chaotic aura; the mana within them differed from those who received Disciplines from the Tower gods. Kristen was correct; it was corrupt and different from their own.

Behind him, Yule finally stopped writing. The tension in the air escalated sharply, and an oppressive feeling smothered all the Chroniclers. Yule was driven to her knees. She wasn’t able to stand upright against such pressure.