II-108 The Grinding Camps (III)

Why is it so hard to run one of these camps. When I started this, I thought I had thought of something revolutionary—that I was just going to farm my Aspects to new heights of power. Instead, I have to worry about containment and logistics. It’s miserable.

And then there are the teleporting demons who keep trying to break out—why did no one warn me about those? I swear, if I have to chase another one of those blue nightmare chickens down, I’m going to slaughter another Count just to sate my rage.

What we need… what we need is like… a reliable funnel. A place we can lure a great many demons and Sinners to. Like a separate facility in the Base that is warded against spatial rifts. And easy to seal off! That way, I can go in, break most of them to sufficient capacity, and then we can start separating them along levels of weakness to use as practice partners for our disciples.

But there’s another problem here: All this relies on me. Rafael, I must admit… despite all the advancements this could give me, I’m tired. I’m tired of the screaming and begging. Some of them even started crying. Can you believe that. Horrible monsters. Nearly all of them were slavers before I took them—did they really expect me to give them some clemency?

Madness.

But, ah, sacrifices must be made. Thankfully, we aren’t the ones who need to pay this time.

-Overhead conversation between Wei An Wei, The Realmbreaker, and Rafael De Montez

II-108

The Grinding Camps (III)

Aspect Shards: [350]

Concept Shards: [116]

Agnesia raged. Her “training partner” wailed. Wei shook his head, marveling at the pathetic display unfolding before him.

After purchasing the prisoners he needed from Kalrus and loaning the orc his new gun, Wei and company began the precarious task of transporting all his new “practice dummies” back near the rift from which they arrived. It was there that William offered Wei a piece of useful advice—that with his Concept Breaker, he could probably hollow the surrounding land as well. Indeed, with a few swipes of his scythe, Wei discovered that he might just function as one of the greatest excavators in existence, and thus began to construct a new complex of his own.

He chose a mountain of obsidian and blood to serve as his first storage facility. Lacking both interest and experience in architecture and design, Wei let Roggi and the Oathbearers guide him along the hollowing process to ensure he didn’t drop the entire structure down on his head. They joined in with their singing hammers, and soon, he had a rudimentary prison with layered checkpoints, hidden hallways with turret slots to shoot down any fleeing prisoners, and an overseer's walkway above. Below, the “borrowed” Sinners and demons were guided into their temporary holding facilities under the reluctant guidance of one John Bishop.

After creating a bridge connecting the insides of the temporarily dubbed “Mount Grind” to the rift leading back to the Unblossomed, Wei found something lacking… And immediately began establishing an area a whole level below the prison. The way this worked was ingenious. There would be elevators that led down to wide open spaces where he and his disciples could train, and after he harvested enough of a Sinner’s spirit, he would unleash their near-death, near-spent, and near-helpless persons upon his disciples. This would allow him to train his people in actual combat without actually exposing them to physical harm.

Sadly, this came at a price: Wei’s nobility proved to be his undoing, for in his quest to make things easier for his disciples, he exposed himself to mental harm.

“Defend,” Wei muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose as he watched Agnesia eat another three punches to the face. The Sinner was a mostly broken Marquis, so the fists basically bounced off of her, but the damned elf was still a better fighter by a league and a half. The girl roared with violence, anger, and all the grace of a stumbling ox born with only two legs. Her sloppy haymaker went wide—and was so off-course that even the crippled Sinner managed to throw himself out of the way.

“Agnesia! That punch was so telegraphed that if you threw it at a blind man, it would return his sight! That’s how obvious it was!” Wei said, doing his best not to seethe.

“Shut up!” The girl hissed at him as she plopped after her victim. She moved as if a duck on land, while the elf was still bouncing on his feet, weak though he was. “If you just let me use my Essence, this would already be over!” She threw something that could barely be considered the bastard child of a left hook and barely clipped her foe. Maddeningly, her strength was so great that a mostly missed punch was still enough to launch the prisoner across the entire area, slamming them hard into the obsidian walls.

The elf bounced off with a groan.

A muffled chorus of cheers, congratulations, and horrified whimpers sounded from the other disciples who were arranged in a wide circle around this makeshift area. A few of them dragged the Sinner back into the ring and threw him like a piece of meat to the wolf that was Agnesia.

A clumsy, sloppy, unskilled, but horrifically strong wolf.

“I got you now, you bastard,” Agnesia muttered under her breath. Dark flames flashed behind her eyes.

“No,” Wei said, shaking his head. “Finish him with your fists.” Ellena swallowed again. She had been doing that a lot during the process of this fight. Wei leaned over. “Lady Ellena, are you well? Does your throat hurt?”

“Ah, no, it’s just…” She gestured as her daughter reached down to grab the sobbing Sinner begging for his life. “This seems… gratuitous. And horrible.”

The girl picked up her victim and pulled with a roar. Wei was about to warn her against that—but it was too late. The elf did indeed come apart, but all the stuff inside the poor fool splashed down. Into Agnesia’s open mouth and her eyes. The girl’s triumphant battle cry became a series of choked sputters and gagging coughs.

“It’s—oh, Ignium I think his guts were in my mouth… and my eyes.” The girl pawed at herself, broken from her battle stupor as disgust took over.

Wei just shook his head and sighed. This was his greatest disciple—his student with incredible potential. A girl who could burn a hole through a mountain with enough time, who had the spirit of a nascent dragon, but whose martial skill could be compared to a newborn foal sometimes.

“Mourning,” Wei said. “Water.”

At his request, a jet stream of limpid liquid splashed over Agnesia and cleansed her of filth. In seconds, she was bare of gore and mostly clean. With a flare of her flames, the wetness rose from her body as steam, and she rolled her shoulders, grinning at Wei in triumph. “So. I got him.”

Ellena’s lip quivered and she looked away. Wei reached out and patted her on the shoulder. He knew what she was feeling on some level. But this place was hell. They were to be the predators here. Or they would inevitably become prey. Best that Agnesia condition herself now rather than find herself wanting eventually in an actual battle. “You did.” His lip twisted. His father jabbed him in the shoulder.

Wei nearly wheeled and backhanded the man, but stopped himself as William whispered: “Tell her well done first. Like how your mother used to.”

The young master aimed a cold glare at his father, but took things no further. He allowed the man to watch because of the experience he could offer—the skills he had. Like it or not, he was far more versed in combat than Wei actually was, despite their disparity in power.

“Ah, yes, well done,” Wei muttered. He shot a look at the dead elf laying on the ground, now little more than mangled clumps of flesh. “It took a little while but… you did it. That’s what matters. Results. Yes.”

It sounded like he was trying to justify her performance to himself. He knew that his mother would have turned around and left the room in despair if he took this long to murder someone barely comparable to him in terms of power.

Still… She did manage it. And that was something. Agnesia still wasn’t skilled enough to beat a foe like the Magma Alchemist in a direct collision of skill, but with more Aspects Advancements and some conditioning? Perhaps…

Wei shook himself out of his thoughts. He had instruction to deliver. “What do you think you did well?” he began. This was the same question his mother asked him the first time he sparred against another disciple. Her current expression mirrored his at the time.

“Me? What do I think?”

Wei nodded, though he barely held back an acerbic remark to tease her. He did enough of that earlier.

“I… I think I got good at guessing where he might be during the fight. And… actually hitting him.” She winced slightly. “I thought I almost had him several times.”

“You did. Almost. But not quite.” Wei surmised. “I think your assessment is accurate. You did get better hitting him. You lost your apprehension and discomfort with using your hands and tore into him quite well at the end—though don’t tear someone open from above next time. Or at all. It’s very messy and someone else might slip on the blood during their bout later.”

“It’s also unsanitary as shit,” Bishop grunted off by the side. “We better get some grates or something here if we’re doing this snuff film shit because this place is going to smell like hell and get all kinds of bugs.”

“Bugs?” one of the newer disciples cried out. “What kind of bugs?” Wei noted how they eyed his Hivekin warily.

“The flesh eating kind,” Bishop said.

“That does not specify,” the Hivekin among them muttered mentally.

“Regardless,” Wei interrupted, “what I think you did well was have the willingness to commit. To fight. To aggress. This is a hard thing to ingrain in some. What do you think you were poor at?”

Agnesia frowned. “Actually hitting them?”

Vendrian laughed. Wei did his best to hide a smirk.

“I would agree with that too…” Wei said. “You need to practice proper form first. The good news here is that, since you have almost no foundations but immense strength, we can reduce the time we spend on your conditioning and devote that to combat practice. There will be no need to correct bad habits as well.” But before that—

Wei drew a few Aspect Shards out from his System and speared them into Agnesia. The fire around her crackled and glowed for a moment as he installed the pieces into her Perception. The princess blinked. “Perception? Thought I’d be getting something for Speed.”

“No,” Wei said, shaking his head. He looked at his disciples. “Did she seem slow to anyone?” Most shook their heads. A few were too hesitant to answer. “No. You were faster by far. Stronger by far. Better by far. You were just… awkward.”

“Awkward,” Agnesia said.

“You misjudge distance; you use too much force and lose balance; you get fixated on doing something and then get frustrated, thus breaking your focus.” Wei narrowed in on the last point. “Focus. Control. Give yourself those gifts. Learn to keep your form and maintain your posture. Do not let my taunts distract you, either. We have faced worse.”

The girl pouted slightly, and Wei smirked slightly. Ah. That was the look.

“You require focus as well,” his Shell chided. “Remember you are instructor and master now, not some love struck fool teasing the item of his affection.”

She is not— Wei centered himself. Wei controlled himself. “So. Here is what we will do next: Everyone, into the arena.” All his disciples stepped in. Faen and the other slaves Wei recently rescued shot up with a vigor the others lacked. “I will bring in more Sinners for you to practice against. But you will not kill them. In fact, I do not even want you to hurt them that severely. I want you all to practice striking, grappling, and controlling your opponent in these controlled settings. Bring them to the ground. And let them stand up again. The first person to do this will earn an Aspect Advancement from me. The person who does this the most will earn an Advancement from me. At the end of this session, if you all demonstrate your growth, you will all earn Advancements from me.”

This put a bit of energy in their steps, and Wei was glad to see it. As he called for Rafael to start bringing in new Sinners for his disciples to test themselves. “William Yu,” Wei said, keeping his voice devoid of emotion. “Take over as instructor. I will observe.”

His father didn’t respond either, instead, he stepped up and began ordering the disciples. For a moment, it felt like he was back home. But the warmth was soon to die, and the illusion broke further as Bishop approached him.

“Wei, listen—”

“I am in no need for mind attunement,” Wei said, interrupting the man. He needed to get out and get to hunting some new prisoners down. He knew the Base was a messy place, but that mean there were plenty of demons and Sinners… Perhaps he should get a map from the General regarding nearby threats. “I am perfectly well.”

“It’s not that. It’s Sarah. She want to talk to you—Inheritors leadership reached out to her. Calling for a ceasefire. And a meeting. They want you to attend.”

Wei couldn’t help himself. He threw his head back and laughed. “Ah. Comedy.”

“This ain’t a bit—”

“I know you aren’t joking. It’s just… pathetic. Look at them. Come crawling for diplomacy after exhausting their assassins. What a noble foe we face.”

“Yeah, they’re fuckers, but hear this: Their High Consul wants to meet you. And believe me when I tell you that Haytham Winters don’t just meet with anyone.”

The young master grunted. “When.”

“As soon as possible. He’ll be sending a simulacrum to the Lodge. Along with the other Consuls.”

“And Mepheleon… does he know about this?”

“Yeah, because he’s going to be one of the people in attendance.” Bishop swallowed. “Listen. I’m telling you this so you’ll be ready. Sarah—she’s got her own history with them, so peace is fucking impossible. But a temporary ceasefire? That might just work. You might not know this, but what you’ve done recently to the Inheritors—to the Unfallen? You took a lot of their quieter options off the board.”

“And so we are at the point of diplomacy,” Wei chuckled.

“Or war,” Bishop finished, his expression hard.

The young master paused. “They’re willing to face the Claimed Hells? Over me?”

“For your System. I don’t think much of these fucks, Wei, but they’re Earthborn like me. Most of them are horrified that someone like you might get access to their home—that they’ll be cut out of the process of reaching the vault and shaping the Fathoms. It’s not a war they think they can lose.”

It also something the Hound wishes to be involved with. Wei considered the arrangements between him and the God of Death—on what Mepheleon allowed, and slowly, he wondered just how much of the grand scheme he knew. How much Bishop even knew.

“Very well. I appreciate you telling me this, Master Bishop. Know that I owe a great deal to you, and that I won’t forget it.”

Bishop grinned slightly. “Any chance this affection might help me convince you to tone down this Saw-type shit? Because training your people on murdering POWs is kind of a fucked up bad guy thing to do.”

Wei shrugged. “Only if you can provide me an easier means of Advancements and a simpler way to train the disciples. They need the experience. I need the shards. And this place has no mercy. Speaking of, I wish to head out and find a few more prisoners soon. I think I want to achieve another few Core Advancements and grant Agnesia a new Skill for when she challenges the Tower again.  Do you have a general map of the Base? It would be good to know where the Circles are.”

John Bishop snorted. “You’re turning into a goddamn nightmare, kid, you know that. But you know something: I think we can help each other here. MacArthur isn’t the only one with a list of priority targets. I’m listening.”