II-82 Jailbreaker

The Realmbreaker isn’t someone I would describe as a “people person,” which is a hell of a fucking statement from me because I consider myself a pretty sizable asshole.

It also cuts both ways. If he gets his mind set on something—like killing someone—and if the opportunity presents itself, then he’s going to do it. He will steal the moment and seize the opportunity, and he won’t stop unless the deed is done, or he is dead.

Well. Wei’s still not dead. The same can’t be said for all the people who stood against us. Especially the Collectress.

Dumb bitch really thought she was playing a game between master schemers, running in a den of snakes. But the problem is, Wei isn’t a snake. He’s a badger. He’s just here to fuck shit up and take what he wants. Fuck war as another means of politics for him, war and bloodshed is his preference.

Something she really should have seen coming.

-Vendrian, Scion of Death

II-82

Jailbreaker

“Vendrian,” Wei said, sending a message to the Scion of Death. “Be on guard. I am going across again. They have your wife.”

The reply from the Scion came almost instantly. “What? How is she? What—”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything. I need to go back across.” The young master frowned as he fled the central chamber of the gala. There were still too many eyes on him. Too many eyes, and too many interested parties. He needed them to look away, so people wouldn't think about him for a little while. The Old Man was doubtless already suspicious—but Wei could play that off as nerves. Damnation, he didn’t even need to play it off. Being faced with a Duchess of Pride was unsettling enough for his spirit as is.

Every moment he spent in her presence was like being ground beneath the heel of some mountain-sized monster. It was only by merit of his Ambition that he hadn’t collapsed. If he was gone too long, or if someone knew where he was going, however, then whatever lie he was composing now would fall apart.

He needed a smokescreen. And he knew just who to ask.

“Rafael,” Wei began, slipping between people as he picked up speed. He was running toward the hallway again. The place he came from, where the Old Man offered him a private room. “I need a distraction. Something to blunt the attention of the masses from me.”

The lich hesitated for a moment before speaking. “I… This will not be easy. There are a good many people looking at us. I need to… this will be like trying to smuggle a bag of cocaine during a mass orgy. That took considerable sleight of hand–and more than a little luck when someone began poking the “pocket” I hid it in.”

Something in Wei’s mind shuddered violently, and he forced himself to suffer sudden partial amnesia. “I’m sorry… wait, can you do it or not?”

A clicking of a non-existent tongue sounded from the lich. “I… perhaps if someone started a fight here or… or a duel or…” A curious noise sounded from Rafael. The pitch repeated until Wei’s left eye began to twitch.

“Rafael.”

“I think you and the large angry one should get into a fight in the hallway.”

Wei paused misstep and looked behind. His Omniscience encompassed a great many details and Essence Signatures, but one of the easiest to distinguish was Vendrian—who remained a spot of withering coldness in a room filled by so many. The young master narrowed his eyes, and the Scion of Death noticed Wei’s attention.

“What?” Vendrian asked. “Is something wrong?”

His questions were interrupted by more details from Rafael. “If he formally challenges you to a duel, and both of you start mingling your Essence somewhere… I think this should be able to shroud you from most people’s notice. I think. I cannot guarantee anything about Lein, however. She is… frightfully powerful.”

The Duchess still loomed over the crowd upon the dais. Right now, she was staring down at the Old Man, and he was leaning back and away from her. Wei looked away when she turned to regard him. The damnable thing about living in a reality where there were so many monsters—everyone’s Perception was hyper-attuned as well. Little escaped notice. Even so, he needed an opportunity. And so far, Rafael’s idea was the best he had.

“Right,” Wei said, dispatching another message to Rafael. “Have Vendrian follow me down the hall. We will have our dispute there. It will give some distance at the very least. Let you track the Duchess’s movements and give us some deniability. In the meantime… try to mingle with the crowds. See what you can discover.”

“Very well. Wei… try not do die.”

“Such is the desire,” the young master sighed.

Wei continued on, rushing down the hall in long, desperate strides. A few moments later, Vendrian was right behind him. The Scion of Death was a lot less circumspect with his approach, shoving people aside, barreling through groups as he chased the young master. Demonic attendants called out to Wei, asking if he needed to be of service, but they were nearly bowled over as Vendrian came to a stop just behind him.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” Wei said, painting his face with a sneer. The act felt forced, but he needed a pretense for what was to follow. Vendrian, meanwhile, was no better an actor himself. His face was that of scowling stone. “I suppose you’ve come to see which of us is truly better. To see why your mistress might want to see you replaced.”

“Yeah,” Vendrian said, coughing to clear his throat. “Fuck you.”

The young master froze. And then sent a message to Vendrian. “What?”

“What do you mean what. I’m trying to make this look real.”

“You can’t just curse at me. You need to build the moment up. There needs to be an exchange of insults.”

“Fuck you is an insult, dumbshit.”

Wei felt himself actually getting annoyed. “Yes. The kind an uncreative child would use. We are trying to showcase a rivalry that will turn into a duel so I can summon my weapon and enwreath us in flames. After which I will use my anchor—”

“This is really the best plan you can think of?” Vendrian said, his eyebrows climbing high on his head.

“I’m sorry, did you offer anything better?”

“You didn’t even ask me.”

“And I don’t regret not asking you. You just told me to have relations with myself. Do you think I can trust you with something as complicated as coming up with a scheme to mask our true intentions.”

A flare of genuine anger crossed Vendrian’s face. “Fuck you again, asshole. Don’t treat me like I’m a fucking soft-minded simpleton.”

“Oh, am I supposed to pretend you’re a great intellect now? How very kind of me.” Wei sneered. Vendrian’s nostrils flared.

“Yeah, well, I probably could have come up with something better than just hiding ourselves in behind a wall of chaotic Essence as we brawl, if you bothered asking. Say what you will about your father, but it seems like when he finished in your mother, what was supposed to be your good fucking sense ran down her thigh instead.”

The sheer vulgarity of the insult took Wei off guard, and the mention of his father—and the horrifying image of his parents coupling—made something inside Wei turn rancid. “You… you truly are a bastard.”

Neither of them were even messaging each other anymore. And both of them were truly getting mad.

A Sinner stumbled just behind Vendrian, hiccuped from drunkenness, jumped as he noticed the two of them, then fled back toward where the party was still ongoing.

Both Concept-Breaker and Scion of Death continued their mutual glaring session.

“Are you angry at me?” Wei asked.

“Yeah. Are you?”

“Angry enough.”

“So. How’s this for making a conflict between us seem real.”

Wei’s lip curled in disdain. “It’s working.”

Vendrian took a step closer as ashen cold spilled out around his body. In seconds, he was engulfed by a crawling aura, and the demonic attendants began chiming warnings, imploring them to refrain from fighting—at least until there was an audience, so that the Circle of Pride would have its due.

Wei and Vendrian approached each other. The young master summoned his glaive. The Scion’s greatsword was already drawn. Both faced each other down as lawyers appeared on the tips of their weapons, disputing over how this “duel” was supposed to go.

“Alright,” Vendrian said. “I can encase the space around us with ice. Block off this hallway.”

“I’ll add some Celestial Flame,” Wei said. “It might not be enough to fool the Duchess. She will be suspicious.”

“Yeah. But things are messy enough. If you can get Aerea out—” Vendrian swallowed. His heart was pounding, his pupils were dilated. As composed as he portrayed himself to be, he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. “And we can eliminate the Collectress, there will be all kinds of fucking chaos. We can slip out after that. It’s not really like she can do anything to us anyway.”

“Still. The less the knows the better.”

“That’s it!” Wei’s lawyer squealed, playing alone. It chucked its suitcase at Vendrian’s small little evil. The ugly, lust-tongue lawyer had questionable slits all over its body, and it said something lispy and taunting that Wei didn’t full understand. “Oh! Oh, that does it! Duel accepted, you bastard. You’re going to get it now…”

A wave of Essence washed over both Vendrian and Wei as a contract materialized between them. Wei let his lawyer handle that as he licked his lips. “Shall we settle this disagreement, ‘this bitch.’”

The Scion of Death closed his eyes and chuckled humorlessly. “I’m actually going to hurt you—”

Wei summoned a wall of flame around them. And then kicked Vendrian as hard he could in the shin. A resounding crack echoed as the young master felt his heel bounce off Vendrian’s impossibly durable body. The Bastard winced slightly and glared. “The fuck was that for?”

“Never make me think of my parents coupling again!” Wei said, snarling. He pointed a finger in Vendrian’s face. “And never insinuate anything good about my father! Ever!”

For a moment, the Bastard just stared.

A message splashed across Wei’s vision. “Wei. Where the hell are you? Shit’s about to go wrong real fast,” Bishop said, his voice rising in pitch and desperation.

“That’s what bothered you?” Vendrian said. “Daddy and mommy problems.” He winced. “Shit. You have it bad.” Then he smirked. “You ever walk in on them when they—”

Wei jabbed at Vendrian’s jaw. And felt his knuckle bounce off the man’s grinning face. The young master hid a curse of pain as he felt his knuckles bruise. “Put up your ice, fool. Maybe start slashing at the ground to make it seem like we had a fight. I’m leaving now.”

“Sure,” Vendrian said, his expression turning sober. “But Wei—get her out. And… fuck, thank you, I guess. I don’t… if you manage this, I’ll do anything to help you get to Earth, or achieve your revenge, or whatever the fuck it is you want.”

The young master sighed and offered Vendrian a slight nod. “I’ll let you know when she is safe. After that, we resolve the matter of the Collectress for good, and be done with politics. I despise this place.”

“Yeah. Me—”

Wei didn’t wait for the Scion of Death to finish. Instead, he triggered his Source Anchor, and once more plunged into the fray. Despite the danger he was heading into, Wei felt a sense of relief wash over him. Finally, he was away from the misery of politics—from the choking atmosphere and randomness of the gala, and now he was back where he desired. In the fray. In the fight. With demons to kill and problems too—

As he rematerialized in a pulse of shadow and light, Wei found himself staring at his father pinned between a snake-like demon with far too many bouncing things on its chest. Its jaw was spread wide, threatening to swallow the entirety of William’s head. For a second, Wei just looked on. He became vaguely aware of Aerea’s carriage laying overturned just a few meters away from a flickering, cipher-locked portal—and the legions of other demons closing in on them.

Worse was the falling pressure of not one but two major powers rapidly approaching. All that trouble barely overpowered Wei’s urge to watch his father get his head bitten off. The young master contemptuously thrust his glaive out, piercing the demon through the top of their skull. Then, he channeled a beam of radiance through their body and hollowed them clean from the inside. As the snake collapsed atop William, its body little more than fried scales and crackling cinders, Wei shared a glare with his father.

“Why, thanks, son,” William growled. “That sure was a prompt response.”

Wei didn’t dignify giving the man a reply. Instead, he manifested his scythe and strode toward the portal. He peeked inside the carriage using his Omniscience. Aerea lay there, moaning amidst a webwork of Essence strings. Somehow, the bombs she was connected to hadn’t gone off—but on further observation, lingering motes of shadow lined each wire, keeping them steady. Stabilized by William Yu, it seemed. And then there was that wetness staining her person. Some of it was urine, but not all of it. With the way she was clutching her stomach, it didn’t take much to guess what was happening.

“Of course everything goes to hell at once,” Wei growled. Monitoring his diminished strength, he brought his scythe down upon the portal—and felt himself strike something dense. It cracked, revealing faint breaks in its layered defenses. Some of the Ciphers blocking his way winked out, but there felt like there was so much more ahead. Again, Wei swung, faster and faster, his scythe falling more like pickaxe rather than a tool for the harvest.

“Wei,” Bishop growled. “I can’t distract them any longer. The last of my mind-puppets just got wiped. And now they’re actively purging their forces of any lingering Psionic Essence. Best bust the door down now, or we’re all gonna get fucked.”

Wei could feel the pressure looming, the danger approaching. The Collectress and the Duke were going to be here any moment.

Again, again, and again, the young master swung. Fissures spread. Shadow and light began ripple upon the portal. He was faintly aware of his father’s shadows pulling the downed carriage that contained Aerea back to an upright state and had it rolling forward again. 

Just then, a beam of blinding light pierced through the platform they were on. The rear section of the bridge simply dissolved. It didn’t shatter. It didn’t break apart. It dissolved before the onrushing power. Like salt in water. And the coruscating beam was sweeping forward, coming to claim them.

Wei felt the touch of Pride in the beam—felt the Duke’s power. At the same time, the portal was rattling—but not near enough to breaking. His mind whirled. His father was shouting at him, saying they needed to leave now—to abandon Aerea. But Wei wasn’t done.

He gritted his teeth, and focused his Ambition on something else—if the portal wouldn’t break on its own, if Goldskull was capable of such devastation, then how about carving a sliver of the Duke’s power away prematurely and guiding it into the portal?