Chapter Text
Death came cheap in Praetoria. Life was hard. It was everything people could do to survive. Strength was everything, and might ruled supreme. If you wanted something you had to just reach out and take it, provided you were strong enough to do it.
The weak were reviled. Less than nothing. Not worth helping. If you weren’t strong enough to survive the brutalities of life you had two options. Technically three.
The first option. Die. Killing yourself to not be a burden on society for being weak was actually considered one of the most noble sacrifices the weak could make.
Option 2. Sell yourself. Slaves had value, even the weakest, most talentless, magicless person could find safety in slavery. Of course your life as a slave might end up worse than before, depending on who your master was.
Option 3. Get stronger. The hardest to do. The option most likely to end in swift death outside of actually killing yourself. The cold hard reality was you were either born strong or you would die weak. For the weak to become strong would take a miracle.
Torric was not strong. He had no magic. Well, no. That wasn’t true. He had magic. Someone had bound it so long ago that all the experts agreed that the difficulty in removing the curse wasn’t worth the effort for someone who was probably going to die young and have worthless abilities anyway.
The curse that bound his power had also left him physically weak. The only thing that had ever saved him was the fact that most considered him heart stoppingly beautiful. In a society that valued strength, being a beautiful, but frail looking young man meant that his only hope to survive to be a handsome old man would be to sell himself.
It didn’t matter how much he exercised, how much sun he got, what he ate. He was always thin. Short. Unable to develop anything remotely close to proper muscles. Couldn’t grow a beard. He was now considered an adult and had never even needed to look in the direction of a razor.
The one thing he did have going for him was the fact that he looked so delicate, so doll-like and perfect, even as a man, maybe especially as a man. His frail beauty that drew the eye and had made many covet him already.
He would never be respected. He would never be feared. Finding work outside a brothel would be basically impossible.
He wasn’t the ideal image of a man. But he was exotic. Exotic enough that if he found the right master he could live a very, very pampered life as the cherished bedslave of a high ranking noble lord.
They even had a word for it ‘domivayn’. Literally translated it meant ‘home’s ornament’. For that was all he would be. The pretty ornament for whoever paid for him. Heavily guarded, rarely allowed out in public. Technically prized beyond compare. But still a slave.
Beloved, yes, but with only the rights and liberties granted to him by his master. He would own nothing. Be nothing.
Everyone knew that was what he was destined to be. It wasn’t like he had a family to protect and care for him.
He had been found in the badlands, naked and covered in dirt, a mere child of two. He’d been in the lair of a rhivian hellcat. It was a miracle he hadn’t been eaten, or so they said. Supposedly the hellcat had been protecting him as fiercely as if he had been one of her kits and not food when the hunters found him. They killed her anyway.
He was installed at the nearest orphanage where he spent all his years training to sell himself into slavery when he came of age.
It was that or die in the streets when he was kicked out of the orphanage, which would be in 3 days. No one wanted to waste any more resources than they had to for a weak, magicless beastkin abandoned on a hostile human owned planet.
He set his hairbrush down on the table next to him, one ear turned in the direction of the hall outside tracking the footsteps as they approached.
Heavy. Too heavy for it to be the matron of the orphanage, any of the women working for her, or the other children.
Two sets of boots and the faint jingle of approaching chainmail.
Torric turned to the door as the footsteps stopped outside it. The men outside did not knock. Why would they? They were strong. He was a slave already in everything but name. He was the property that they had come to retrieve. Property didn’t get privacy.
“It is time then?” He asked.
One of the two men nodded. “You’ll come quietly? Your kind tends to run at the last minute.”
“No.” Torric smiled sadly. “I have nowhere to run to.”
They escorted him out of the orphanage, flanking him on either side as they walked him down the city streets to the slave dealer who was handling his auction. He was not the only one to be sold tonight, but supposedly he was expected to be one of the more popular commodities on the auction block.
Rumor had it that important envoys from other worlds would even be there tonight. They didn’t often have much to do with the other worlds outside the dungeons that connected them.
Dungeons. The source of most of the world’s dangers. The resource that kept them from succumbing to the darkness all together.
Somewhere out there was a dungeon that connected Praetoria to whatever world he had come from. Just knowing it existed was a comfort. He knew he would never find it, let alone survive passing through its depths of the badlands to his native world on the other side.
He was taken to a private room to wait for the auction to start, his two escorts standing outside the door to his windowless room.
There was a mirror in the room. Undoubtedly enchanted to keep him from breaking it and turning the glass into a weapon. Still, he didn’t often get a chance to study himself in detail, especially in a mirror large enough to see his whole body.
Pale skin the color of fresh cream, utterly smooth and perfect. Silken hair the color of sapphires, hair that was carefully tended and fell nearly to his knees in gentle waves.
Pupils that weren’t round but vertically slit like a cat. Irises whose hue shifted with his mood.
Tufted sapphire catlike ears nestled among his locks, just as mobile, just as sensitive as an actual cat.
His skin was covered in fine silver stripes like a tiger. Not fur or tattoo, it was a natural marking. A silver and sapphire tail grew from just above his ass. Catkin weren’t exactly rare, but he had one feature that was not typical for any variety of catkin.
Feathered wings of sky blue and silver, the primaries marked with navy chevrons.
People had seen birdkin, though they were a rarity. And plenty of people knew about catkin. No one had ever heard of a cat with wings, however.
He waited quietly in his holding room, sipping on wine and nibbling on the cheese and fruit tray that had been left for him. Both were of finer quality of food and wine than he’d ever consumed before.
He didn’t have access to the System and thus didn’t know how long he waited in that tiny windowless room all alone.
Finally a woman entered.
“Strip.” She told him boredly.
“Your pardon?”
“Slaves go on stage naked, you’re due on stage. Strip.”
Torric took a deep breath and did as she instructed, carefully taking his clothes off and folding them neatly before laying them on the bed.
She clicked a golden collar around his throat. The metal was cold and smooth against his skin. Enchanted to keep him from running, to keep him compliant. If he had magic it would cut off his access to that as well.
The woman put a cloak around his body, pulling the hood low over his face then began leading him from the holding room and through the large building to the stage where the auction was being held.
He was led directly onto the stage.
“And now the one many of you have been waiting for. Our heavenly angel, Torric.” The auctioneer introduced him.
The cloak was ripped off his body from behind by the woman who had escorted hin, unveiling his body all at once. The audience in front of him reacted with oooohs and ahhhhs.
“Show them your wings, Torric.” The auctioneer instructed.
He stepped forward, turning around to show off his back then spread his wings to their full width, flapping them back and forth to prove their reality.
“Outrageous!” The enraged voice of a woman echoed across the auction hall. “This must be halted at once!”
Murmurs spread through the crowd, angry ones. Whoever was yelling was yelling out of one of the private boxes.
Suddenly a ridiculously tall woman he’d never seen before appeared on the stage in the blink of an eye. Her ears were long, tapered, and pointed. Her face far too angular for a human.
“Which of these men stole you, eminence, forcing you into slavery?” She asked, rage in her voice.
He looked around. “Stole? No one stole me. I’m selling myself.”
She stared at him, clearly flabbergasted. “You…are selling yourself? What of your nest? Where are your people? Who has allowed this outrage to take place?!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, my lady?” He asked, slowly backing away from her. “Please, I don't want any trouble. They’re going to get mad.”
“Where are you from?” She demanded again. “Where is your minder? Why are you so afraid?”
The auction house guards were running on stage now, weapons drawn.
Two men appeared on stage, looking much like the woman. Unlike the woman they carried naked steel in their hand.
“I’m from here. I promise. I've known no other home than Praetoria. Please have me mistaken for someone else.” Torric tried to diffuse the situation.
“Take him.” The woman commanded the men with her. “One such as he should not be in shackles let alone sold as mere chattel. Clearly someone has clouded his mind and he knows not what is going on.”
Now the auction guards looked really pissed.
Torric looked between the angry strangers as the three fanned out around him.
He continued to back up until his back was pressed against the wall, his eyes whirling between yellow-green fear, the blue-grey slate of anxiety and cyan-green for deep unease.
“Come home with me, child.” The woman tried to coax him as he shrunk away from her, his gaze darting between the auctioneer, the strangers, and the armed guards. Fighting was going to break out any minute and he was absolutely not strong enough to stand in the middle of a bunch of rankers fighting. That’s how you died.
“I can’t.” He tried to explain. “I already signed the slave contract. They’ll label me as a runaway.” He tried to plead. “Please, you're going to get me killed!”
“Take him, we are leaving.” The woman commanded.
“I’m really sorry to have to do this to you, eminence.” One of the two men said to him.
“You don’t have to do anything. Really.” He tried to reason with the two men directly.
“He has clearly been bespelled. If he resists, knock him unconscious. The celestines will understand.” The woman spoke again.
The man to his left lunged forward too fast for Torric to see let alone comprehend. Suddenly he was thrown over the tall stranger’s shoulder like a sack of flour.
“Kill them!” The auctioneer yelled.
“Kill everyone who tries to stop us!” The woman roared.
Weapons were drawn, blood just waiting to be spilled.
“Cease this disturbance at once in the name of the King!” A new voice cut through the air.
“Ambassador we cannot have you kidnapping citizens who legally have sold themselves into slavery.” The strong voice of a man tried to reason with with his kidnappers.
“The child comes with us.” The woman replied haughtily, rage laced through her voice. “If no one stops us then we will not return with an army to see who else you have stolen and sold as slaves. I can have 15 planets marching on Praetoria within the week. Do not think I am bluffing.”
The man who’d called for them to stop in the name of the king stepped forward into the light, lowering his own hood.
Torric had no idea who he was but that was not true for the patrons of the auction house, for the hall was filled with gasps of shock.
“Ambassador he is but one misborn halfbreed beastkin. Would you really throw away everything we have been working towards for a slave too weak to defend himself?”
“It is true,” the auctioneer tried to assert. “The slave is cursed, unable to touch his magic. He is nothing more than a novelty. If he does not sell himself he will be doomed to die alone in the streets like the weak bodied waste of resources he is.”
A second later the auctioneer’s head was rolling across the stage. Torric didn’t even see who moved to strike him, it was so fast.
“This child is a treasure in over 20 different sectors!” The woman roared angrily. “Yet you have knowingly allowed him to remain cursed!? You call him weak? A waste of resources? You brainwash him into believing that his only value lies in slavery?!”
A string of foreign words came pouring out of her, ending with the woman drawing a knife from her belt, cutting her hand with it, then throwing the bloody knife to embed itself in the floor at the stranger’s feet in the audience.
“There will be no alliance between worlds. Not now, not ever.” The woman declared. “And may your gods have mercy upon your souls, for those who follow the celestial path will not. You have the span of three moon cycles to discover the error of your ways and seek appropriate atonement.
Tell your people to be very, very cautious treading into dungeons off world and into the badlands.
You have kidnapped, cursed, brainwashed and enslaved one the children of some of the most powerful beings within the known universe. If they discover what you have done before you atone this world and everything in it will be ground into dust in an instant. If you are lucky they will contain their wrath only to your world and not strike out at all of humanity across your sector.
We will do what we must to appease the great ones so that your doom does not fall upon us as well. Even if that means slaughtering every Praetorian to leave the safety of your dungeon for the next thousand thousand years.”
Magic flared around then, blinding white. The chaos of the auction house vanished and he hung suspended in the void between stars.
He could see nothing.
Hear nothing.
Smell nothing.
Feel nothing.
He hung suspended in a sky without stars or moons cut off from everything and everyone…
and then the unending void’s attention centered upon him.
Recognition flashed through the blackness.
There was life in the void, life he hadn’t known existed or sensed.
Disbelief. Not his, someone else’s. No. Something else’s.
The void knew him.
Shock echoed through the void in waves.
Everything in space and time stopped for one brief shining moment
And then the entire cosmos burst forth in glorious song.
The sweet music of eternal joy was still echoing in his ears when stone walls and ground appeared in place of the void.
He was gently stood upright by the man who had been carrying him like a sack of flour. A man who then immediately knelt before him, forehead pressed to the back of Torric’s hand.
“Forgive me eminence, for placing hands upon your exalted person without permission. If you so desire I will gladly offer you my hands in atonement.”
Torric recoiled from him. “What? Why would I want your hands? What is going on? Where am I?”
His gaze darted wildly around the confines of the stone hallway he had found himself in. Fear rushed through him. Choked him.
What was happening?
Why did they want him?
His breathing sped up, keeping pace with his pounding heart.
“I have to go back.” He started babbling to himself.
“It’ll be fine. I just have to go back. I didn’t go willingly. They can’t brand me a runaway slave.
Its just a misunderstanding.
That’s right. It’ll be fine.
I just need to go home.”
“Eminence please, you must calm down.” The woman implored, her own eyes darting around the space in fear.
“Calm? I’m calm. What are you talking about? I’m fine.
This is fine.
We’re all fine.”
His voice rose what felt like a full octave with every sentence as he tried to convince himself that nothing bad had happened or would happen.
“We’re definitely not going to be hunted down by the Praetorian Guard.
It's fine.
I’m fine.”
The floor below him started to rumble ever so slightly.
“Forgive me eminence, you really, really need to calm down or I will have to take action for all our safety.” The woman said urgently.
“WHY DO YOU KEEP CALLING ME THAT?!” He finally roared at her.
The entire corridor started shaking violently, the stone floors rising and falling like storm tossed waves.
"I truly hope you forgive this trespass.” The stranger said seriously, taking hold of his hand.
The world went black.
When he opened his eyes it was to find a silken navy blue canopy over his head. Wherever he was now, it was far nicer than anything he’d ever seen in his life.
Torric sat up, looking around what appeared to be a large tent with numb detachment. Like he was looking at everything from really far away.
He was on a very luxurious, plush pallet, the softest blanket he’d ever felt draped over his naked body. He’d never known that pillows could feel like clouds until he’d woken with his head nestled upon one.
A woman he did not know was seated a few feet away. She too bore the sharply angular face and long tapered pointed ears of the three who kidnapped him.
“Greetings, Eminence.” She greeted him. “My name is Laekela, I am a priestess of the celestines. I know you must have many, many questions, we do as well.
First, I need to let you know that I am using magic to artificially numb your emotions. We are deep within the lattice now. If you were to become overwrought it would lead to catastrophic results across potentially dozens of worlds.
Do I have your permission to continue to numb your emotions?”
“Yes, that's fine.” He answered absently. “Where are we? Why was I taken from the auction?”
“We are within the lattice, the Praetorians would call it the badlands. We are on our way to Solstheen, the nearest celestine held world to Praetoria.”
“What is a celestine?”
The woman frowned. “They are the beings who give birth to universes.”
“So a god?”
Laekela laughed. “A god could only dream of the power of the celestine. Gods control worlds. Celestines control universes. They are not the same.”
“I don’t understand. What do celestines have to do with me? I’m just a misborn cursed half breed with no magic.”
The fire of rage flashed in the woman’s eyes and then died. “You are not misborn, eminence. Nor are you a halfbreed. As for the curse and not having magic that is easily fixed. We just need you on the surface first.”
“What am I? If I am not misborn or a halfbreed?”
“We know of 13 celestines, though there are likely far more than that. Each celestine created one of the 13 celestial races. Their direct envoys to the material world. The closest thing to children the celestines have.
The celestial races are not numerous, but they are powerful, very powerful. You are descended from one of the 13. Your race is known as the celestial tiger, descended of the great celestine Bahumet.
I must ask, eminence, what happened to you? How did you end up a slave among the humans?”
“I was found in the badlands when I was very young. The humans who found me guessed my age to be around 2 years old. They said I was inside the nest of a rhivian hellcat. That she had been protecting me as if I was her own kit. They slew her and returned to Praetoria with me in their custody.
I was sent to live in an orphanage when I arrived. They tested my magic and found that it had been bound by a powerful curse, so I was deemed worthless despite being such a lovely child. The orphanage raised me until they deemed I was of age, then I was given one week to find lodging or sell myself.
The orphanage paid handsomely for me to be trained to be a high class domivayn, and I had to come up with the money to pay them back before I left.
I made arrangements with the auction house I was found in where they would pay off my debts in return for placing me with a noble household.
The day of the auction came and a strange woman was there. She was quite angry about my being there. They killed the auctioneer and took me away using magic of some kind.
Then we were in a stone hallway and the man who carried me offered to let me cut off his hands and I got really upset and then the world went black and I woke up here.”
Laekela nodded, her face an expressionless mask.
“The three who took you are currently being held under guard while they await your judgement for laying hands upon you against your will.”
“They took me because I am one of these celestial tigers?”
“Yes. If it had been discovered that they allowed you to be sold as a slave they would have been executed, along with their families out to seven generations in both directions. Even now you could have them executed for laying hands upon you.”
“What? No! Why would I kill them for kidnapping me if they and their family would have died for leaving me? They’d be damned either way.”
“If you do not have them executed they will be hailed as heroes by many for rescuing you from slavery.”
“I much prefer they be treated as heroes than killed. I might not have enjoyed what happened, but if I am as important as you say, it would be ungrateful to label it a kidnapping rather than, as you say, a rescue.”
“You are incredibly important to those who worship the celestines. We consider the celestial races gods descended to the material planes.” Laekela replied earnestly.
“So when that lady said she would have 15 planets marching on Praetoria within a week that wasn’t an idle threat?”
“That was, if anything, an underestimation of who is coming. Word of your rescue has already begun spreading. Many worlds are arming themselves as we speak, preparing to purge Praetoria of all life.”
“I can’t allow people to kill an entire planet in my name.” He replied with a frown. “The majority of them don’t even know I exist.”
“I told you the celestines are very powerful. It is not hyperbole that they consider the celestial races their children. Bahumet, for instance, is the great creator of the majority of the beastkin races. She particularly isn’t fond of humanity, either. When she discovers that one of her children was enslaved by Praetoria… to say that she would be enraged would be like saying a beast tide of B grade monsters is a small problem.
The other worlds attacking Praetoria is in hopes that Bahumet’s vengeance will only land upon the heads of the Praetorians. Or at the very least, upon humanity. The other celestines will object less to genocide if she contains it to just the race that drew her ire, and humanity’s creator won’t let her wipe out the entire race, so that won’t be a problem.
Praetoria, however, is doomed regardless. The best they can hope of is that the survivors of the massacre that is to come will be enslaved. If we act swiftly and viciously the loss of life will be contained to a few billion, rather than trillions or more.”
“But I’m just a -”
“Forgive my interruption, eminence, but it pains me to hear you call yourself misborn or halfbreed or anything else. That you think that of yourself is abominable. You are a proud celestial tiger, perfect the way you are. The more often you repeat those words to describe yourself in public the more angered those around you will become. And the more likely they are to reach the ears of your mother.
You do not want her to hear those words.”
“I’ll try. They spent decades pounding how worthless I am into my head.”
“May I inquire into your age, eminence? You are clearly quite young.”
“On Praetoria in chronological years I’m 35 or thereabouts. But they only recently decided that I am ‘of age’ by their standards because of how slowly I developed physically and mentally.”
Laekela sighed. “Then you are very young indeed. Worse still that you have been cut off from your magic. I can see that the System recognizes you as being held within its network, but everything about your Records have been bound. All that can be Identified is your name.
You said you were trained to be a domivayn. I do not understand this word. What is it, and how were you trained?”
“A domivayn is a special type of bedslave. They typically only belong to the highest of nobility. We are cherished by our owners. Highly pampered. It would have been a good life. Most likely. Domivayn are the least likely to be abused by their masters of all the types of slaves, so long as we keep our masters happy.”
“I do not think that I am going to like hearing what your training entailed, knowing that you had sold yourself to be a bedslave.” Laekela said grimly. “Let’s hear it though. With your permission what you have already shared with me and what you are about to shared with me will be used as testimony when the high priestesses gather to determine the fate of Praetoria. That way you will not be asked to testify again.
I worry that if they were to hear this in person they will be so enraged that Praetoria will be condemned to the smallest babe without deliberation.”
“That is fine. As to my training, I was educated in many of the languages found on Praetoria, as well is in the playing of several musical instruments. I don’t know if they are native only to my world, or if you would know what they are, but I can list them if you like.”
“That isn’t necessary.”
“I was trained in several forms of dance and acrobatics. They educated me in science, mathematics, the healing arts, politics, art, literature, games, anything so that I could entertain my future master outside the bedroom, and their guests, if so desired. I was even trained in magical theory and System operation, even though I have no access to it myself. It was entirely possible that my future master might have paid to have my curse removed if I pleased them well enough.”
“So far that all sounds quite tame, and depending on what the contents are, will be a good foundation for your future. What about the rest of it? The bed part of bedslave.”
“I was trained in the many, many ways to pleasure human men and women. Including those whose tastes might run towards what is considered more exotic. I have quite a high pain tolerance, and even without regenerative abilities, my body always healed any injury without scarring or permanent damage of any kind.”
“Exotic tastes?”
“Blood, weapons, acid, fire, ice, extreme bondage.”
“I see.”
He could sense the barely suppressed rage in those two words.
“I was also trained in many different forms of massage, and act as a general body servant when it comes to personal grooming.” He finished.
“The sexual training. When did that begin?”
“Roughly 10 years ago, Praetorian time.”
“The curse, do you know anything about it? Who placed it upon you?”
Torric shook his head. “No, I have always had it as far as I know, even before I was found in the badlands. It was assumed that I had been abandoned to die specifically because of the curse, and the only reason I had survived to be found was because that hellcat thought I was her kit instead of eating me.”
“As if a cat of any species would eat a celestial tiger.” Laekela snorted derisively. “She was protecting you. And if she was alone then that means the rest of her pride was out trying to find someone to retrieve you. It was your misfortune that it was the Praetorians who found you first.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“You may ask of me anything you wish, eminence.”
“Who was that woman who stole me from the auction house? And the men with her.”
“That was Ambassador Andorel Greenleaf, and her two bodyguards, not that she needs them, Kaldorel and Peithal. They were meeting with the king of your country to establish friendly trade relationships between your country of Corathi and our homeland of Solstheen.”
“So you are elves?”
“Yes and no. There are many different elven races, just as there are many different human races. We are loosely considered elves, but specifically are known as Sol’Feyra. We can be found in many places, but there are three worlds that are considered our ‘homeworlds’.”
“I assume that Solstheen might be one of them?”
“It is. We are outside of the entrance of the dungeon that leads to Solstheen. We’ll have to climb upwards to the nearest safe zone, then we can transfer from there to the surface. I am actually part of the honor guard who came to escort you the rest of the way. We woke you because transitioning dungeons while under the kind of spell you were could have been dangerous.”
“Can I see the Ambassador and her guards? I’d like to thank them. But first, may I ask for clothing? It's not that I particularly care if people see me naked, but I feel like meeting with someone as important as an ambassador naked as the day I was born would be inappropriate and distracting.”
Laekela grinned. “Yes of course. Though if I may be so bold, it is a magnificent body.”
“So I’m told.”
The priestess produced for him a set of dark blue heavy silk robes that had slits built into the back for his wings. Star constellations were embroidered across the soft fabric in glittery silver threads, a small clear but very sparkly gemstone at the center of each star. The hems of the robe and sleeve were all edged with 3 inch thick bands of glittery silver cloth that was embroidered with dark blue filigree.
He dressed, she even had a pair of dark blue leather boots that magically shrunk down to perfectly fit his feet.
Once dressed the priestess led him out of the screened off bedroom section of his tent and into the larger portion. A padded throne sat in the center of a table large enough for six took up most of the space inside what he now realized was no tent but a large pavilion. It was heavily laden with a variety of foods, some he recognized as Praetorian, others he had no idea what they were. The smells were incredible. How he’d not smelled the meal in the other section of the pavilion now that he was in front of the table could only be attributed to magic.
“Is this all for me?” He asked in amazement. He’d never seen so much food and of such a variety in his relatively young life.
“Yes, eminence. Please, eat your fill. Would you care to see the Ambassador and her guards while you eat or after?”
“They can come in while I eat. I don’t mind. I think you can also lessen the emotional numbing now. I won’t panic now that I know what is going on.”
“As you desire, eminence.”
Emotions flooded back into him like the crashing of a wave. Confusion. Astoundment. Disbelief. Excitement. Discomfort at all the deferential treatment. Gratitude that he wouldn’t have to be a slave after all. Fear of being so deep in the badlands while so weak. Fear of what would happen when he got to the surface. Of what would be expected of him.
He took a deep breath, centering himself, then sat down. He reached out to serve himself, but Laekela quickly stopped him. “Just tell me what you wish and I will serve you.”
“Oh you don’t need to serve me. I would prefer you to sit and eat with me, rather than serve me.”
“Are you sure, eminence?”
“Yes. And call me Torric. Eminence makes me uncomfortable.”
Laekela looked like she might faint. It was hard to say which had triggered more of a reaction, that he told her to eat with him or that he told her to call him by his name.
He started serving himself small portions of what looked and smelled most interesting.
“You can have more than that emin-Torric.” She amended at his look.
“I assumed. But I want to try all of it, so if I fill up on this stuff right away I won’t have as much room for other stuff.”
“A wise plan. I shall do the same.”
He had just begun to take a bite of some kind of white meat in an orange colored sauce that had been layered over a bed of white grains that looked like rice, but he’d only ever seen brown rice, so he wasn’t positive that was what it was.
A burst of sweet acidic citrus mixed with something that made his mouth burn like fire exploded across his tongue, adding more flavor to what he now knew as chicken than was imaginable was interrupted by the Ambassador and her two guards entering.
He finished chewing and swallowed. “Please, sit. It is my understanding that you are heroes, so stop looking like you’re about to be executed. And you, good sir, I don’t want your hands either. Join me in eating. And you must call me Torric. That’s an order.” He grinned at them. It was a silly way to exert his newfound power, but he had the feeling that they would just constantly ‘eminence’ him like Laekela if he didn’t.
The three glanced amongst each other, then quickly sat across from him.
“Help yourselves to whatever you like.” He told them. “Is it your people’s custom to dine in silence or do you speak as you eat?”
“Whichever you desire, Torric.” Andorel answered deferentially.
“So which of you is Kaldorel and which is Peithal?” He asked, taking another bite of the spicy citrus chicken, closing his eyes in bliss.
“I am Kaldorel.” The man who had offered his hands to him answered.
“And I am Peithal.”
“I want to thank the three of you for stealing me, even if I did initially panic. None of you will be punished for what you did. Hopefully you’ll be rewarded. I don’t have any money or anything or I’d give you one.”
An idea struck him and he stood for a moment, spreading his wings. He twisted just enough that he would be able to tug out three of the smaller feathers that were on the interior of his wing, all of them were loose and due to come out anyway.
He closed his wing and sat back down, then presented each of the three elves with one of the soft silver feathers. They took the feathers with wide eyed reverence.
“We will treasure these always.” Andorel replied. And it was very clear that she would, the way she gazed upon it as if it were her most prized possession, gently stroking the feather. Kaldorel and Peithal had near identical looks on their faces.
“I suddenly have the feeling that my shed feathers are worth far more than the casual tokens I gave away to my friends or sold to alchemists for a bit of coin.”
“You… sold your feathers to alchemists?” Andorel asked with wide eyed horror.
Laekela next to him literally choked on her food.
“Well what else was I supposed to do with them? I was a poor orphan and considered by most to be less than nothing. All I knew was that I could get a few inferior g-grades for them depending on who I took them to.”
The priestess next to him started choking so badly he grew concerned that she was actually choking on her food and would need intervention. Eventually it seemed she calmed down, and she gulped down her glass of wine, poured another, and drained that too.
“Your pardon. Torric.” She told him. “Most would consider a single feather to be a treasure worth, at the very least, a few hundred C grade coins. Few would think to use one as potion ingredients or to boost their next evolution, preferring to keep it as a treasure beyond compare. Especially among celestine controlled space.”
“I’ll try to be more circumspect as to who and when I give out feathers. But that means I’ll end up with a large collection just sitting around in a vault somewhere, as they grow and molt just like a bird. In fact I’m going to need someone to help me with the pin feathers closest to my spine because I can’t reach them.
“There will be fighting in the streets for such an honor.” The priestess told him seriously.
“I would be in them.” Andorel confirmed.
“As would I.” Peithal added.
“It would be a blood bath.” Kaldorel agreed.
“Uh. I don’t know how to make a fair decision about that.” Torric admitted. “But I definitely don’t want people to potentially kill each other for the chance to help me keep my wings in good condition….
It um, isn’t something I’d want just anyone to do.” He added shyly. “Having my wings preened is…”
“We know how sensitive celestial wings can be.” Kaldorel offered with a smile, rescuing him.
It hadn’t been so bad when he was much younger, but now having people help him tend to his wings was its own sweet agony. He’d always have to disappear into the bathroom to relieve himself after the matron or her nuns in the orphanage helped him the last few years. When he’d been younger the other kids had helped, but once the sensations started to clearly affect him in other ways they’d put an end to that immediately.
“There are other Luminari on Solstheen.” Laekela explained. “Not many, as I said they are rare. And none of them are celestial tigers. They’ll probably be at the capital by the time we get there. They might even meet us as we make our way up to the dungeon to the nearest safe zone.”
“Luminari?”
“The System recognized race for the children of the celestines like you.” Peithal explained.
“None of my education on the System had anything about celestines or the Luminari.”
“That isn’t surprising. Praetoria is not part of the celestial path, even though it is within System controlled space.” Andorel replied.
“What does that mean, the celestial path?”
“The celestial path what it is called for those who worship the celestines directly over any gods, and recognize that they are the true originators of the System, therefore to grow and Evolve within the System is not only an act of worship and devotion, but fulfilling the wishes of the celestines.” Laekela explained.
“In celestine controlled space everyone acknowledges that the true power in the universe are the celestines, but many of us also all worship our own personal deities as well, as they are far more likely to intervene in our lives than a celestine. And far far less likely to just kill us all for annoying them.” Kaldorel added.
Everyone knew the gods were real, and that if you became powerful enough you could kill a god, or even become one yourself. If enough people believed in you the System would just offer you the Class of god. Another way to do it was to increase your grade and level high enough.
“Its entirely possible that when you get to pick your Class you will be offered some sort of divine Class by the System.” Andorel told him. She’d completely forgotten about eating and instead was still petting the small feather he’d given her.
“How deep are we? And how far up do we have to go to get to the safe zone you’re talking about?” He asked, switching topics.
“The dungeon entrance we’ll be going through will put us on the 57th floor.” Peithal answered. “The nearest safe zone is the 50th. The one good thing is it’ll get easier the further we go, but it’ll still be very dangerous. But we’re in a registered raid right now, so you needn’t fret.”
In the dungeons parties were limited to five. If you had more than five people fighting in the same party then the dungeon went crazy and started summoning a swarm of high level enraged monsters on your head. The only way to get around it was as a registered raid. Raids could be parties of 10, 25, or 50, depending on what was going on. Usually they were only formed for special Events in the dungeons.
“We’re in a raid?!” This time it was Torric’s turn for his eyes to widen. He’d never dreamed of being in a raid before. Even if he didn’t do any fighting on his way up to the safe zone on the 50th floor he would still get a portion of the experience from all the kills. Hopefully. There was the chance that all the experience he’d gained so far in his life hadn’t been banked by the System, waiting for the day that his curse was broken and he could access it.
“Yes, I had a raid of 10 who came with me into Praetoria.” Andorel explained.
“And I came with another raid of 10.” Laekela added. “Plus an independent party of 4 so that we could have a full raid of 25 once we met up with Andorel.
“Where are they?” He asked. “I don’t hear anyone outside the tent.”
“The tent is bespelled so that you won’t be disturbed by outside noises.” Laekela answered. “Not to worry, I can still hear everything so we won’t be caught off guard. “I am, in fact, your specific guardian until we arrive in Solestheen and I can hand you off to the temple of Bahumet.”
“Likewise your robe has several powerful enchantments meant to protect you from harm. And before we leave I’ll be casting a number of protective spell upon you. With your consent, of course.”
“When do we leave?”
“When you are finished and wish to leave. We all await your pleasure.”
It took every effort in Torric’s body to not rush through his food knowing that a bunch of people were waiting for him to finish eating so that they could begin a difficult and dangerous 7 level run to the 50th floor.
The challenge rating for the monsters on the different floors fell in line with the floor level, so in the 50s they’d be fighting monsters with a challenge rating of at least 50. Which also meant that everyone in the raid had to have an average level of at least 50 as well if they wanted a hope of surviving.
When he finally finished the best meal he’d ever had in his life Laekela cast a series of buff spells on him, then they vacated the pavilion. He was surrounded by Sol’feyra the moment he stepped outside the pavilion, aside from those who went to immediately start tearing it down so that they could leave. The rest of the camp, it seemed, had already been packed up and they really had just been waiting for Torric to finish eating. That, of course, made him feel terrible that he had kept so many people just sitting around waiting for him to finish eating.
Thankfully the pavilion was packed up in next to no time at all, and then they took him straight to the portal that led from the badlands to the dungeon that was connected to the world of Solstheen.
Chapter 2
Notes:
There is a mild sex scene between a mentor and the MC in this chapter. Like really mild, but it's in there.
Chapter Text
The portal opened into a safe room that was meant for staging, or recovery, before heading into the dungeon or out in to the badlands. Since they were all fully rested, they didn’t need to stop and recover before pressing on.
They did however, stop to organize themselves. Torric and Laekela were in the center of the group, with Torric moving inside a golden bubble that was projected around the both of them by the priestess. A group of 8 guards were arrayed around them in a square. They were the strongest core of fighters and were directly responsible for Torric’s safety. If the raid as a whole became overwhelmed the interior guard was tasked with grabbing him and hauling ass straight to the safe zone on the 50th floor, abandoning everyone else while they stalled for time. Even if it meant giving up their lives for Torric and his protectors to get away.
The rest of the raid traveled in front of or behind them, playing vanguard or rearguard as needed so that they weren’t surprised by anyone or thing as they traveled upwards.
The monsters, when they came across them, were absolutely terrifying to the level-less Torric. A single stray hit getting through Laekela’s protective bubble would have been more than enough to kill him in an instant.
The floor was not meant to be conquered by an entire raid, however, only traversed and hunted by parties of 5. As such the monsters they came across were of no threat to Torric even if they did scare the shit out of him. In the end their forward progress was limited not by monster attacks but his own low stamina and endurance.
After the fourth time they needed to stop for him to rest and recover, Laekela hoisted him onto her back like he was a small overly tired child riding on their parent’s back after a long day out. They continued on that way for quite some time, with Torric trying hard not to feel humiliated by the treatment, reminded the entire time of how weak and useless he was that he had to literally be carried through the dungeon.
It took three days to cross the 57th floor until they reached the boss room to get back to the 56th. Or at least, the party stopped and slept three times from the time they entered the floor and got to the 56th, and that was taking the most direct path between the two points, with the party trying to avoid as many monsters battles as possible in the name of speed as well as keeping Torric safe.
When it came time for the boss fight he was tucked in next to the door with Laekela standing guard over him while the rest of the raid battled the boss. Since it was a raid, and not a normal party of 5 the boss was that much harder for everyone fighting.
Torric watched the fight with excitement and fear. He didn’t think that he would get hurt, not with Laeka standing by as his protector. He now knew she was level 63, and while she couldn’t solo the boss, she was more than capable of keeping him alive while the rest of the raid did their job and took it out.
The fight itself was over in minutes, and part of the raid set to work harvesting the boss for materials while the four healers started healing everyone who had taken damage back up to full health.
Laekela, in turn, led him over to where a large golden chest was waiting. The Champion’s Chest for completing the boss fight.
“You want me to open this?” He asked in awe.
“Yes. As a Luminari you’ll generate the best loot we could possibly hope for compared to the rest of us.” She explained. “The loot generated in a Champion’s Chest is affected by the person opening the chest.”
He pushed open the chest with a great deal of excitement, never dreaming in a million years that he would be opening a dungeon chest of any kind, let alone a Champion’s Chest. Inside was a shimmering silvery folded piece of fabric that glowed ever so slightly and looked to be some degree of sheer. Next to it was a necklace in a small glass topped box, a small open box that contained a pair of earrings, and a pair of navy blue fingerless gloves. Lying lengthwise in the chest was a magic staff. Last of all was a pile of small belt purses.
“Take the items, please, eminence.” Laekela directed. She absolutely refused to refer to him by his name in public. Everyone did, much to his frustration.
He picked up the silvery cloth first, shaking it out to reveal that it was a gorgeous cloak that shimmered and sparkled like it reflected the stars at night.
“I don’t have Identify or Appraise.” He told her apologetically. “I don’t know what it does.”
The priestess took the cloak and a moment later a status screen popped up above the item.
Displacement Cloak
Rare
+20% Evasion
Wearer appears blurry to potential attackers as they see multiple slightly overlapping images of the user at once, causing any potential attacks to be made with disadvantage.
“Wow, that's incredible!” Torric exclaimed excitedly. “Whoever gets that is going to be really lucky.”
“It is yours, eminence. Everything in the chest is. None of us would dream of taking any of the rewards. Besides, that cloak in particular would be useful for you while we are in such dangerous sections of the dungeon. Now let me identify the rest of the items for you while you attune to the cloak.
Amulet of Lifewarding
Very Rare
If you would be reduced to 0 HP you would instead recover 100 HP
This feature can only be used once per day.
Feature resets at midnight each day.
Earrings of Spell Turning
Legendary
While wearing these earrings, you have advantage on saving throws against any spell that targets only you (not in an area of effect)
All hostile spells targeting the wearer below 7th level have no effect on you and instead target the original caster, using the spell level, spell save DC, attack bonus, and spellcasting ability of the original caster.
Gloves of the Ghostwalker
Rare
User can use their reaction to temporarily turn intangible when an attack is about to strike them.
10 uses per day, uses recharge at midnight each day.
The bags ended up each holding 50 basic d-grade coins in them, and there were 25 of them, so Torric insisted that everyone be given one of the bags of money for their efforts with the boss.
The 56th floor went much the same as the 57th, only it took 5 days to cross, and they were attacked a lot more frequently. The monsters on the 56th floor were all insectoids of some kind, which creeped Torric out to no degree and he was more than happy to remain on Laekela’s back, protected by her golden shield. He hated bugs.
The 55th floor was when things changed, for that was when the other Luminaris caught up to them. Torric recognized them for what they were the moment he saw them, despite the fact that neither were celestial tigers like he was. In fact he had no idea what races they were, beyond humanoid in origin.
One had deep orange skin and black spiral horns like a ram. His wings were jet black, and so were his eyes, there was no pupil or iris, just a solid black eye. He was as heart stoppingly beautiful as Torric was, with raven black hair that fell in hundreds of tiny braids down to his chest. Each braid was ended in a single red bead.
The other was a woman who could have been mistaken for one of the lizard folk at first glance. Her face was humanoid, but her forehead and cheeks were covered in blue-green scales. Her eyes were snake-like as well, and glowed a bright golden yellow. More scales traveled down the outside of her neck, and down her bare shoulders and arms. Her wings were not made of feathers but of scales and thin leather membrane. She wore no armor, only a simple band around her breasts, and skin tight pants made of some type of scaled leather that clung to her every curve and stopped at her midcalf.
She had a thick barbed tail, he had no tail at all. Where she wore no armor, he was in full platemail. She had no weapon, but her fingers ended in wicked looking talons and her hands were liberally coated in blood. It was obvious what her weapon of choice was. Likewise she wore no shoes, and her feet were not like that of a human but looked more like that of the lion-lizards that famously haunted the swamps of certain parts of Praetoria, only each toe ended in a wicked looking talon as well. Her feet were just as bloody as her hands. Blood even streaked up her legs.
The man on the other hand carried an oversized war maul, also liberally coated in blood.
Laekela put him down and bowed before the two newcomers. “It is an honor to be met by you, great eminences. May I please introduce you to his eminence Torric, the celestial tiger that was rescued from Praetoria.”
The two looked him over.
“It is true then.” The woman said grimly. “Someone restricted his access to the System. The only reason to do that would be to weaken him. And the only reason to leave an infant Luminari in the lattice so bound would be to kill it. Zzzerekt, go on to Praetoria and find out where he was found, and the condition he was found in. The traces of this plot are old, maybe even too old for you to catch, my old friend.”
The orange skinned man laughed like the reptilian woman had said something particularly funny. “There is no trail that I cannot find, no matter how old it is. You take the child onto Solstheen. I will do as you say and continue on to this Praetoria. I will cut a bloody path through their world seeking the information we need on our lost kitten.”
“I will return him home safely, good hunting.”
The orange stranger, Zzzerekt, pointed at one of the elves. “Do you know the way back to Praetoria?”
The woman in question nodded. “Yes eminence. I can guide you straight back to their dungeon.”
“Good. Hopefully you are not too tired, for I intend to run most of the way there. Try to keep up.”
He took off in the direction that Torric and his part had just come from without any further ado, leaving the elf scrambling to chase after him.
The reptilian woman looked him back over again. “My name is Renethera. I am the daughter of the great celestine Urdmoggra. He is the father of all dragons, and my Bloodline is that of Celestial Dragon. The one who left us was Zzzerekt, the son of Venvznect. He is a Celestial Demon. Priestess you have charge of this young one?”
“I do, eminence.” Laekela answered.
“I am told three among you are those who found and rescued him.” Her gaze traveled over the assembled elves. “Whichever of you found our lost kitten, step forward.”
Andorel, Peithal, and Kaldorel stepped out of formation, joining Torric and Laekela.
“You did well.” She handed each of them some kind of metal coin. “Turn those in for rewards at my temple.”
“We were rewarded already by the lost one.” Andorel told her.
“That is his reward. This is mine. Take it and be grateful for my generosity.”
She bowed her head, touching the back of her first two fingers to her forehead. “As you command, eminence. We thank you for your generosity.”
“Can your raid make it back to the surface with only 22?” She asked, looking over the assembled elves.
Andorel nodded. “We can rearrange ourselves into appropriate parties to make it back without triggering the wrath of the dungeon. All of us are of sufficient level to get back to the 50th floor. Especially if we leap frog each other in your wake.”
Renethera nodded. “Priestess, take back up your charge and keep up with me. We will be running straight for the 50th floor. The sooner our kitten has his curse removed the better. He is in too much danger neutered as he is.”
He climbed back on Laekela’s back without complaint. He’d gotten used to being carried around by her at this point. He did not, however, expect how much faster that they’d be moving now that they weren’t hampered by the rest of the raid.
Torric had to bury his face in the shoulder of the elven woman who was carrying him to keep the wind from their passage from stinging against his face from the swiftness of their passage. They did not stop or redirect for any monsters that crossed their paths on their way to the door the the 54th floor.
Renethera simply sped in front of them when a monster or monsters approached, killing them in one blow without stopping, then they continued onward as if she hadn’t just slaughtered potentially an entire group of a dozen monsters in seconds.
The boss fight was over with just as much ruthless efficiency, slain in 4 hits. The 54th floor whirled past, Rethena didn’t let up their pace until they finally reached the entrance to the 53rd boss floor room. Only then did she allow them to finally stop and eat then rest for the night.
Even though all Torric had done was be carried he was nearly as exhausted as Laekela when they stopped. Having to cling to her back for hours on end had left his muscles cramping and his body aching. He inhaled the food that was offered to him, stuffing his face and stomach after having not eaten since rising for breakfast that morning then immediately retreated to his bedroll to sleep.
Laekela followed, only going to her own bedroll directly next to his. Renethera took up post outside the tent, stating she would stay on watch for the night so that they could both get a full night of uninterrupted sleep before they picked up their punishing pace the next day.
The celestial dragon woke them after 10 hours of sleep, and they had another large feast of food. She told them that they wouldn’t be stopping to eat aside from small snacks during rest breaks until they stopped for the night. She aimed to make it at the very least to the 52nd floor before they next stopped to rest, a prospect that had Torric internally groaning.
Still, he knew better than to try to argue with a woman who could sneeze wrong and accidentally kill him.
They made it all the way to the boss to get from the 52nd floor to the 51st before they finally stopped again, with Laekela and Torric just as exhausted as they had been the night before. He was falling asleep even as he was eating, having to be prodded awake multiple times by Renethera until she was satisfied that he had eaten enough and allowed him to seek his bedroll for the night.
The next day they hit the 50th floor safe zone by the time it was midafternoon. Renethera didn’t stop there, taking them directly to the safe zone transit building that contained the portals that allowed people to transfer between other safe zones within Solstheen’s dungeon.
No one objected when she cut straight through the line of people waiting to use one of the circles, and the next thing Torric knew he was on the surface of a whole new world.
They emerged into a large building in a room full of a dozen different similar teleportation circles inscribed into it.
“This is the main public dungeon entrance for the capital city of Solaris.” Renethera explained as they moved through the room with purpose, this time Torric was actually allowed to walk on his own two feet.
He could feel every eye on him, or maybe it was them, as they walked through the building and out into the city. He stopped short when they made it outside the building and saw the world outside for the first time. The sky was not an angry red here, but a shining crystal clear blue. The clouds not black but a soft pastel pink
The buildings of the city he now found himself in were not squat blocky constructions made of hellstone mortared with blood clay, but stunning structures designed to harmonize with the beautiful natural world around them. Homes built around, inside, and on varying levels climbing the trunk of massive trees that extended hundreds of feet up into the sky.
Other looked like large clumps of mushrooms, or artful ‘natural’ tumble of massive boulders that undoubtedly had been carefully planned and placed with exact precision to achieve the intended effect.
Flowers, bushes, and trees of all sizes grew everywhere there wasn’t a road or path leading to a building or tree-house. There were even bridges high in the air connecting massive tree to massive tree, creating a skyroad throughout the city where one would be able to travel across its length and breadth without ever touching the ground.
Renethera quickly led them to a large tree that housed the temple of Bahumet. The moment he entered the temple a great hue and cry went out, and he was led by a large crowd of priests and priestesses to an ornate suite of rooms that had apparently been prepared specifically for his arrival.
He desperately wanted a bath now that he had the opportunity to have one, it had been almost two weeks since the last time he’d been able to bathe and he could definitely feel it. His skin felt both dirty and greasy and his wings needed a great deal of care before he could actually take to the air with them, the state they were in now.
He looked unhappily at the crowd of priests and priestesses all pressing him with questions of anything they could do to help him and make him feel more comfortable. All the attention from the mass of total strangers was more than a bit overwhelming to him. They were all so damn eager to serve him, their needs and desires for him suffocating.
“Everyone out!” Renethera ordered. “The young master needs his rest. He has been through quite the ordeal. Instead of bothering him, someone go prepare a large meal for us. Now shoo.”
The priests and priestesses all filed out without a word of protest, and Torric gave the dragon a grateful look. “Thanks, I didn’t know what to do and was getting overwhelmed.”
“They mean well, but they truly think of us as gods come down from on high, so they can get a bit overzealous. I have no doubt that you want a bath, and I do not say this to be offensive, but your wings look like shit. You haven’t been able to care for them a bit since entering the dungeon is my guess.”
He grimaced, nodding. “I didn’t have anything to take care of them with, and I didn’t want to ask anyone for help…” He trailed off, not meeting her eyes, cheeks flushing as he bit his lower lip.
He would need help now but didn’t know how to ask a near total stranger to perform what amounted to foreplay on him. He’d always expected to be the one to help his master bath, not asking other people to help him bathe.
“It’s ok.” Renethera told him softly. “I might have a different kind of wings than you do, but I understand how sensitive they are. How it’ll make you feel. There is nothing to be ashamed of. I will help you because you need it, and if you ask one of the priests for help they’ll be biting and hair pulling in an instant for the honor. No one, however, would dream of fighting me, and I doubt you want to spend the entire bath being reverently worshipped. Trust me, it gets obnoxious after a while.”
“I would appreciate the help.” He admitted softly. He shouldn’t be feeling shy, all shyness would have been trained out of him long ago, but he felt shy nonetheless. He’d been thrown into such an unrecognizable position, he still hadn’t really processed it.
He followed Renethera into the bathroom, which had a massive bathtub in it, more than big enough for him to spread his wings out in and have a real bath. It was even already full of hot steaming water.
The celestial dragon led him to a large cupboard that was full of different soaps and things meant for washing not just his body and hair, but for cleaning his wings without stripping them of their natural oils. He went through the different products, sniffing each one until he found a combination that he liked and felt like they blended nicely together.
Renethera was already naked and in the tub when he returned with the products and climbed in to join her. She did not help him wash his body, instead taking the time to wash herself. He used a small bucket to wet his hair enough to be able to work the cleansing soap into his dirty, greasy hair, then used it again to rinse his hair clean when he had finished working the soap into it.
“Are you ready for me to help you with your wings?” Renethera asked quietly.
He took a deep breath, then nodded.
“I’ve helped others with their wings, so I know how to tend to your feathers." She assured him.
"I’ll start from the outside working inwards if you’d be willing to start with the bits closer to my spine where I can’t reach as easily.” He suggested shyly.
“Sounds like a plan.”
He spread his wings in the water, carefully applying the specially formulated soap to his feathers, shaping each one and smoothing them out from their bedraggled state. Torric froze when he felt Renethera’s hands on his back.
“It’s fine.” She reassured him. “You’re safe.”
The skin of his back shivered as she started gently caring for his wings. He was frozen, trapped by her touch, just focusing on breathing and not creaming the water then and there. Renethera was far more attractive than the matron or her nuns had been, and when they helped him neither of them were naked and in a bathtub together.
He unintentionally moaned when her steady fingers brushed a particularly sensitive spot, then instantly colored a bright red.
“I’m so sorry.” He immediately apologized.
“It’s fine. If it feels good just give into it. I won’t be offended.” She replied, not stopping.
“That isn’t how I was trained. It would be difficult for me to give in to the feeling if I didn’t pleasure you first. Unless…” He trailed off, looking down, face still flushed.
“Unless…?”
“You ordered me to pleasure myself.” He mumbled.
“They really did train you to be a bedslave, didn’t they?”
“Yes. Since the time I could understand what one was, and why I would need to become one. When I was first offered to go into training it was made very clear that if I refused they’d turn me out onto the streets then and there, or I would be expected to kill myself by end of day.”
Renethera let out a string of hissing sibilants. “How old were you when you were made this offer?”
“By Praetorian standards I was roughly equivalent to that of a human 10 year old.”
“Despicable. What would you normally do after someone helped you with grooming?”
“Once I became old enough to have…those needs, I would take care of it myself after. I wasn’t allowed to have sex with anyone outside of training.”
“Well let’s continue and then you can tend to yourself after. But don’t feel bad if you moan a bit. Your wings really are in a terrible state.”
She carefully set his wings to rights, gently cleaning each feather and smoothing out all the barbs, carefully slipping free any loose feathers and setting them to the side. When she started in on his pinfeathers he couldn’t hold back any more, moaning loudly.
He was so hard by the time she stopped that it was physically painful. She gently turned him around to face her, one hand caressing his cheek. He sighed leaning into the caress, eyes closing in bliss.
They flew open when her other hand wrapped around his hard cock.
“What?!”
“Shhhhh.” She soothed him, pressing a finger against his lips with one hand while the other continued to stroke him. “Just relax and give into it.”
His knees began to go weak, weak enough that he had to take a step back and lean against the edge of the bathtub. His eyes closed and his breathing sped up as she continued to stroke his cock. The orgasm swiftly building. He couldn’t get off though. His training wouldn’t let him no matter how much he wanted to cum, how much he ached for it.
Renethera must have realized his problem for she leaned into him, head tilted down. “Cum for me.” She whispered in his ear.
The command was what he needed. Three simple words for the dam to unleash from inside him. With a moan he let go, milky semen shooting out of his cock and mingling with the bathwater. When he finished he was panting, body limp.
She traced the outer edge of his earlobe with the tip of her tongue when he finished. “Good boy.” She whispered.
His knees went weak.
Renethera laughed, the sound low and sultry, then let him go. “I’ll leave you to dry off and dress. A priest should be waiting outside your room to guide you to the high mother when you are ready and she will remove your curse.”
She left him alone in the bathtub, water streaming off her body as she climbed out of the deep tub using the built in steps.
He stayed in the water for a few minutes longer, until his heart stopped pounding and his breathing returned to normal. Only then did he get out of the bathtub and dried off. For his wings it was easiest to snap them opened and closed several times, flinging water droplets all over the room. He cleaned them up the best they could with an extra towel then found more identical blue and silver robes as he had been wearing in a wardrobe in the bedroom.
He slipped one on, then added another pair of sandals to his feet. Technically he would need someone to help oil his feathers later, to replace what was washed off in the bath, but he wouldn’t be able to take another encounter with Ranethera so soon without turning into a mewling weakling begging her to fuck him.
Once he was dressed and his hair was no longer dripping wet, he’d found a comb that was enchanted to dry his hair as he combed it out, he opened the bedroom door to find Laekela waiting patiently on a bench directly across from his door.
She stood when he opened the door. “You look quite refreshed, eminence.” She greeted him.
In the time they’d been apart it was quite clear that she had also bathed and changed into fresh robes.
“I am. You appear to have refreshed yourself as well. I assume you’re the one who is supposed to lead me to the high mother of the temple?”
“Yes, eminence. As I told you in the dungeon, I am the priestess who was assigned to your care. Anything you need and I will get it for you. Now if you would follow me?”
He followed her through the temple hallways until they reached a large ritual chamber. Another elven woman was waiting within the chamber, along with Renethera, and a dozen other priestesses. A magic circle had been inscribed into the floor, alternating white and black candles laid out at the seven different points within it. The air was heavy with incense. A narrow bed had been prepared in the center of the circle.
“Greetings, great one.” The woman standing in the circle with Renethera greeted him. Judging by the ornateness of her robe compared to the other priestesses in the rooms he had to assume she was the high priestess.
“Greetings, holy mother.” He replied. Laekela had told him that was her appropriate form of address.
“Are you ready to have your curse removed?” She asked him gravely.
He nodded eagerly. “I never thought that it would be removed. I had been told that it was impossible, that the curse had bonded with my soul.”
“Whoever told you that lied to you. It can be removed, it will just take a great deal of effort on the part of one such as myself. I do not doubt that the priests of Praetoria could have removed it from you long ago if they had been willing to put in the world. And it would have been far less work when you were still an infant compared to being a young adult now. If you would be willing to lay down on the table? However is comfortable for you is fine.”
He carefully laid facedown on the table, head turned to one side, cradled by his arm.
“I will warn you, this will not be a pleasant removal. It will hurt. But when it is finished your access to the System will be restored and hopefully you will have enough experience saved up to immediately gain a class and evolve a grade.”
“I can handle the pain.” He told her. “Just do it. You won’t be punished for what happens next, my word of honor.”
She nodded, and then stood over him and began chanting in a language he did not know or understand. Some of the gathered priestesses began tapping out complicated rhythm on some kind of deep bass sounding drums, while others began playing accompanying haunting music on some kind of flute-like instrument.
The words of the chant wormed their way inside him, carried on by the pulsing beat of the drum that somehow had synced up with his heartbeat. The haunting notes wrapped around him, his aura, highlighting every twisting strand of the curse that bound his magic.
The bindings began to heat up, slowly at first, then faster and faster, hotter and hotter until it felt like his very soul was burning in the flames of purgatory. His screams of agony filled the room, and Renethera had to hold his writhing body down onto the table.
Abruptly the world went black and the pain ceased. All sensation ceased and he was once again floating inside the void. A void that was cuddling up to him, petting him like he was the kitten that Renethera and the others had named him, whispering words of love and endearment that he couldn’t quite comprehend but yet understood the meaning of all the same.
System access restored.
Threshold met for initial Class installation.
Select from one of the following Classes:
Option 1
Celestine Harbinger
The Celestine Harbinger is both omen and promise to the material world, a living vessel of their divine mother’s will. Born of celestial blood, they move through courts and battlefields alike as if every step were part of ancient prophecy.
Their words can soothe warring nations or incite holy crusades, while their presence alone makes mortals and rankers alike question their place in the grand design.
In combat, they blend swift beastkin ferocity with divine radiance, delivering blows that carry the weight of fate itself. The Harbinger is never merely present on the field of battle, they are a sign that the tides of war are about to change, for good or ill.
Option 2
Gilded Lotus
The Gilded Lotus is the perfection of beauty given purpose, every movement, smile, and glance calculated to captivate and draw people in.
They are trained in the highest arts of performance, etiquette, and subtle manipulation, their elegance masking a razor-sharp mind. In social arenas, they command attention effortlessly, weaving between diplomacy, seduction, and veiled threats like an art form.
On the battlefield, their beauty becomes a weapon, distracting, disarming, and dismantling foes with precise strikes and spells delivered under the guise of effortless grace. They are the embodiment of the phrase, “The deadliest blade is hidden in a bouquet.”
Option 3
Opaline Envoy
The Opaline Envoy is the jeweled voice of kings and gods alike, their words carrying the weight of divine authority. With a mastery of languages, traditions, and ceremonial magic, they can speak binding oaths into existence or shatter alliances with a whispered truth.
Their aura is one of refinement and nobility, an undeniable presence that makes even seasoned rulers take notice.
On the field of battle they act as both tactician and arbiter, their proclamations rallying allies while weakening enemy morale. The Envoy’s strength lies in the knowledge that wars can be won or lost without a single sword drawn, only the right words spoken.
Option 4
Moonlit Dancer
Under the gaze of the moon, the Moonlit Dancer transforms performance into enchantment. Every motion carries an otherworldly rhythm, drawing the gaze and heart of all who watch. They weave light and shadow around themselves, creating illusions so seamless that enemies strike at phantoms while allies move unseen. Their dance is both art and weapon, capable of enthralling entire courts or leading foes into a fatal misstep. In them, beauty, grace, and danger are indivisible, like silver light dancing upon still water.
Option 5
Celestial Scion
The Celestial Scion is the child of divine power, born to embody the ideals of their celestine progenitor. They radiate an aura of leadership and reverence, inspiring fierce loyalty in allies and hesitant awe in enemies. Whether in court or combat, their words and actions carry the weight of their lineage, as if guided by unseen divine hands. Their magic flows with celestial precision, capable of both devastating offense and miraculous healing. The Scion does not simply act , they fulfill a destiny that others can sense, even if they do not understand it.
Option 6
Avatar of the First Fang
The Avatar of the First Fang channels the primal might of the original celestial tiger, a being of untamed strength and divine will.
In battle, they move with the grace of a predator and the force of a thunderclap, their strikes imbued with ancient, godlike power. When roused, they can slip into their warform, sprouting spectral claws, fangs, and a mantle of starlit fur that intimidates even the bravest warriors.
Outside combat, they embody the protective and regal nature of their progenitor, commanding respect through presence alone. To stand before them is to glimpse the raw, unbroken lineage of the beastkin’s first and greatest ancestor.
Torric read through each description three times before even beginning to debate which Class was a real contender and which he could discard.
It didn’t take much thought to get rid of Moonlit Dancer and Gilded Lotus. He had been raised to believe that true strength was showing through might of arms, not honeyed words, and definitely not through pretty dancing, even if he did enjoy it.
To that end he ended up eventually discarding the Class of Opaline Envoy.
Celestine Harbinger and Celestial Scion seemed pretty similar on the surface. Only Harbinger was more focused on fate and omens while Scion was more about his celestial divinity.
Lastly, Avatar of the First Fang was clearly just a straight up combat class, something he had always dreamed of gaining but knew would never happen.
If he had a body he’d be biting his lower lip as he thought, forehead wrinkled.
Maybe he should ask the void?
The moment he thought it he felt the void react. It was pleased that he wanted its input. Mental pressure delicately pressed down upon him, impressing upon him its desire for him to choose Celestial Scion .
He acquiesced to its desire, selecting option 5.
Celestial Scion
Role: Support / Diplomat / Combat Leader
Primary Attributes: Presence, Willpower, Charisma
Secondary Attributes: Focus, Attunement, Spirit
Level Bonus
+3 points per Primary Attribute
+1 point per Secondary Attribute
+3 free points
Class Features:
Aura of Sovereignty (Passive)
Allies within a radius equal to 10 × Presence gain bonus Willpower and resistance to fear or mind control effects. Enemies must succeed in a contested Presence check to willingly attack the Scion directly unless already engaged in combat.
Divine Mandate
Once per day, the Scion may issue a command to any creature that understands them. If the target’s Willpower is less than the Scion’s Presence + Spirit, they must obey for a short duration, believing the order to be righteous or inevitable.
Blessing of the Divine Lineage
Channel Bahumet’s power to restore health, cleanse debuffs, or grant temporary stat boosts to one or more allies. Scales with Attunement and Willpower. May also be used outside combat to bless land, forge alliances, or consecrate sacred spaces.
Celestial Strike
A single attack charged with radiant power, dealing bonus damage against dark, unholy, or oath-breaking targets. Can manifest as a weapon strike, claw swipe, or beam of light depending on the Scion’s fighting style.
Mantle of Authority (Passive)
Any negotiation, performance, or public speaking attempt benefits from a major bonus to Charisma and Presence checks. The Scion’s reputation precedes them, and rumors of their divine favor spread without effort.
A balance of experience points still remains.
Would you like to Evolve your Grade to F?
Y / N
It wasn’t too surprising that he would be able to upgrade immediately. The first threshold for Evolution was level 15, and he had been banking experience points for decades. That was before being run through 7 high level dungeon floors, which had to have given him a bunch of experience points from what was essentially power leveling.
He selected Yes to evolve again.
Option 1
Celestial Sovereign
You ascend to become a celestial ruler recognized not just by mortals and rankers but by gods themselves. Gain the ability to command cities or armies through sheer will, enact divine decrees that rewrite the laws of nations, and extend their Aura of Sovereignty to influence thousands at once. Political negotiations become near-automatic successes unless met by another god-tier negotiator.
Option 2
Dawn-Pride Ascendant
Fully embrace the bloodline of the Celestial Tiger, manifesting a hybrid warform and the primal authority of the First Beast. Gain heightened physical stats, and senses, devastating claw-and-fang attacks imbued with divine light, and the ability to summon spectral great cats as war companions. Allies in their presence gain feral resilience and predatory precision.
Option 3
Radiant Consort
Perfecting the art of divine intimacy, you become a living icon of beauty, comfort, and irresistible allure. Your touch can heal wounds, soothe minds, or inflame desire and loyalty beyond reason. In combat, enemies hesitate or falter, torn between worship and fear. In social arenas, you can sway entire courts by a single gesture.
Option 4
Arbiter of the Celestine Court
Become a vessel of celestial judgment. Empowered by the great Bahumet to weigh mortal and immortal deeds alike, you gain the ability to bind beings with oaths that cannot be broken, deliver smiting verdicts that strip even divine blessings, and mediate disputes between powerful entities with the backing of the Celestines.
Option 5
Eclipsed Seraph
Walk the balance between light and shadow, wielding both radiant blessing and devastating retribution. You can temporarily ascend into a celestial warform with spectral wings made of starfire and celestial armor made of starlight, turning the tide of battle. Alternate between bolstering allies with celestial grace and unleashing blinding, awe-inspiring wrath upon your enemies.
Again he immediately ruled out Radiant Consort and Celestial Sovereign , and for the same reasons he’d eliminated the similar Classes he had during his first selection. Being an arbiter seemed interesting, but in the end he wasn’t sure he really wanted to have to deal with the stress of being looked at as the final arbiter when it came to disputes and negotiations. That seemed like a lot of pressure.
That left him with Dawn-Pride Ascendant and Eclipsed Seraph as his two real options. Both were combat oriented and had some form of war form. The real difference was Eclipsed Seraph seemed to be more magic based where Dawn-Pride Ascendant seemed to be more focused on his beastkin abilities and melee combat.
After what felt like an eternity of thought he opted for Eclipsed Seraph as his Evolution.
You have selected Eclipsed Seraph as your grade F Evolution.
This cannot be undone.
Would you like to continue?
Y / N
Again he selected yes.
Eclipsed Seraph
Role: Hybrid Combat / Support / Battlefield Presence
Primary Attributes: Willpower, Presence, Attunement
Secondary Attributes: Focus, Spirit, Agility
Level Bonus:
+5 all Primary Attributes
+3 all Secondary Attributes
+6 Free Points
Class Features:
Eclipse Mantle (Passive)
While in combat, the Seraph radiates both light and shadow energies. Allies within range gain +X% resistance to elemental damage and +X% morale regeneration. Where X equals ½ their Spell Power. Enemies suffer reduced accuracy and an escalating Willpower penalty the longer they remain in the aura.
Light’s Mercy, Shadow’s Wrath
Switch between Mercy Mode (boosts healing, buffs, and protective barriers) and Wrath Mode (boosts damage, debuffs enemies, and increases execution thresholds). Changing modes has a brief, awe-inspiring animation that stuns nearby enemies for 3 seconds.
Predator’s Benediction (Passive)
When an enemy is defeated within the Seraph’s aura, all allies gain a stacking attack and movement buff, while the Seraph regenerates a small portion of health, stamina, and mana.
Celestial Ascension (Ultimate)
Once per day the Seraph transforms into their full Celestine warform, a radiant, tiger-striped figure crowned with an eclipse halo and clad in living starlight armor. During this form:
- All attacks deal bonus radiant and shadow damage.
- Healing and buffs applied are doubled
- .Enemies of lower Willpower than the Seraph’s Presence auto-falter or retreat on first sight
A balance of experience points still remains.
Would you like to Evolve your Grade to E?
Y / N
Just how much experience points did he have banked? He once again selected yes, waiting to see what new options awaited him.
Option 1
Moonfang Sovereign
A celestial predator crowned in lunar fire, you balance divine grace with primal dominance. The Moonfang Sovereign commands moonlight constructs, spectral beasts, and tide-like bursts of gravitational force. Their presence inspires awe in allies and terror in enemies, and they can rend through magical and physical barriers with the unstoppable force of a tidal eclipse.
Option 2
Shadowhalo Archon
The Archon embraces the sanctified darkness of the eclipse, becoming an angelic warden of forbidden truths and hidden paths. They wield judgment through shadow-forged lances and radiant sigils that bind the guilty in place. Off the battlefield, their aura can shroud cities or palaces in protective twilight, rendering them invisible to scrying and divination.
Option 3
Eclipseborne Oracle
This evolution leans into prophecy, mysticism, and divine court influence. The Eclipseborne Oracle can weave strands of fate in combat, making allies’ attacks inevitable and enemies’ strikes miss entirely. They can alter the timing of celestial events, calling a lunar eclipse at will to empower themselves and their followers with divine clarity and supernatural insight.
Option 4
Apex Fang of the Celestine
The ultimate expression of your Celestial Tiger heritage, this evolution fuses the feral might of the First Fang with the divine authority of being a celestine’s chosen heir. Apex Fangs can summon celestial predator constructs, roar to shatter enemy formations, and rend through even god-forged armor. Their combat style is brutal yet precise, mixing courtly elegance with primal savagery.
Option 5
Duskwing Paragon
Masters of mobility and aerial combat, Duskwing Paragons wield vast eclipse wings capable of creating hurricane-force winds and slashing through reality itself. They are masters of rapid strikes, using teleportation through light and shadow to strike before enemies can react. In social settings, their commanding beauty makes them impossible to ignore.
At least this time around there was only one option that was social/leadership based, and even that had strong combat options. It seemed the System was beginning to understand what he was looking for in Evolutions.
He didn’t even need to ask the void surrounding him to know what it wanted. It wanted him to become the Apex Fang of the Celestine. Unwilling to deny the void what it wanted, he selected the Class.
You have selected Apex Fang of the Celestine as your grade E Evolution.
This cannot be undone.
Would you like to continue?
Y / N
He selected yes, hopefully for the final time.
Apex Fang of the Celestine
Role: Hybrid DPS/Tank
Primary Attributes: Strength, Willpower, Presence, Agility
Secondary Attributes: Vitality, Focus, Toughness, Charisma
Level Bonus:
+10 all Primary Attributes
+5 all Secondary Attributes
+15 free points
Class Features:
Celestial Bloodright
Immune to most poisons, all diseases, and most fear effects; divine opponents must exert significant willpower to target you directly.
First Fang’s Dominion (Passive)
- All beastkin allies within a massive radius gain +1% of the Apex’s corresponding stats to their Strength, Willpower, and Reflex.
- Enemies with animalistic traits feel an overwhelming urge to submit or flee.
- In social encounters, this passive manifests as primal dominance, hostile entities must succeed on high-difficulty Will checks to resist intimidation or seduction.
Celestine Rend
- Unleashes a three-strike combo that bypasses 50–100% of armor, shields, and resistances.
- If the target’s HP falls below 30% of their total life threshold after the second strike, the third strike becomes a Godrend, instantly killing mortals and dealing devastating divine damage to rankers.
Roar of the Eclipse Hunt
- A divine roar that causes fear, paralysis, or awe in a massive area of effect
- Lunar flames erupt from the ground in a circle within the area, creating a hunting arena where enemies cannot escape via teleportation or invisibility.
Predator’s Majesty
- Switches between Velvet Court mode (social presence, negotiation boosts, seduction auras, +Charm & Diplomacy) and Blood Hunt mode (+Speed, Damage, Critical Chance, and Healing on Kill).
- Mode swapping is instant but has a 15s cooldown before switching again.
Fang of the Celestine (Ultimate)
- Summons an astral tiger avatar the size of a fortress to fight alongside you for a short duration.
- The avatar’s strikes cause shockwaves that disrupt magic, destroy fortifications, and create safe zones for allies within its pawprint radius.
- After the duration ends, its essence flows into you, granting a massive stat boost and temporary regeneration
No additional prompts showed up indicating that he had another Evolution pending, which was just as well considering he’d just gotten 2 in a row.
He would have started as G, and the first Evolution was at level 15, at which point your levels reset. The Evolution from F to E came at level 50, and would once again have reset his levels.
The void wrapped him up in a loving hug, which made no sense since he was in the void between time, space, the material worlds, and the spiritual realms. Still, it felt like the warm hug of a mother that he had to have imagined a million times growing up.
The void faded and he was once more inside the magic circle inside the ritual room of the temple of Bahumet.
The room was filled with even more incense than before, and the music had continued while he’d been Evolving, but the high priestess’s chanting had finished. When he had no idea.
He sat up, legs swinging over the edge of the bed. He felt stronger. Faster. Smarter. Better. He could feel the pulse of the world, the tang of mana in the air.
Eagerly he opened his System status, reviewing it for the first time.
He grinned broadly, reading it over.
The music around him cut off, and he looked around as everyone stared at him expectantly.
“The curse is lifted. I have access to my magic. My connection to the System has been restored.”
The high priestess and Laekela matched his smile. “Wonderful!” The high priestess gushed excitedly. “I am the holy mother of this temple, Karishnemah Se’tholis. It is truly an honor to meet you, eminence, and that I would be the one to relieve you of the curse that has plagued you your entire life.”
“As am I, holy mother. I had not realized how cut off from myself, and from the world, I was, until my connection was restored. It is like I can see color for the first time, to hear music after being deaf.”
He realized for the first time that the floor surrounding the bed, and the bed itself was absolutely covered in molted feathers of every size and type. The bottom most layer of feathers were the sky blue and silver feathers he had worn his entire life.
Above that was an entirely unfamiliar to him set of feathers that were sitting atop them, these feathers a mixture of silver, gold, and black. There was easily enough to make up a full set of wings.
What in the worlds?
“May I inquire as to why feathers seem to be everywhere?”
“When you evolved the first time your original set of wings completely fell off. Then a second set grew in in an instant. Then those too fell out and a third set grew in their place. Not long after you woke.” Karishnemah explained.
“I am afraid I have no way of storing these feathers, and I am told that they would be worth a fortune. Is there anything that you can do to remedy my problem?” He asked “And perhaps a mirror or two so that I may see my evolved appearance?”
“Yes of course, eminence. We can provide you with a Skill tome of Soul Storage at once.” The high priestess looked at one of the priestesses who had been playing instruments during his transformation and she immediately left without a word.
“I can take you to a mirror if you so desire.” She continued. “Or I can create an illusory copy of your physical appearance so that you might examine it in better detail and from all angles.”
“The second option sounds lovely, if you would be willing.”
“Of course, eminence.”
The high priestess uttered the required chant and a moment later an identical, or at least he assumed it was identical, copy of himself appeared in front of him.
He was still quite small compared to the humans he had grown up among, and especially among the even taller Sol’feyra. He was no longer, quite, the delicate, doll-like extremely feminine barely adult young man he had appeared to be before his Evolution.
Now he truly looked like a man grown and not an awkward youth barely out of puberty. His boyish looks had been replaced with a heart stopping androgynous beauty. Before he looked no older than 18 or 19 by human standards. Now he looked to be in his mid 20s, albeit a young mid20s.
He no longer looked so frail that a strong gust of wind would blow him away, or like an uncorrupted naive innocent.
“Does this spell update if I were to spread my wings or change my clothing?”
“Yes, eminence.”
“Excellent.”
Without thought or care for where he was and who was in the room with him or their reactions to his action he dropped the robes he had been wearing to the ground, revealing his nude body in all its glory.
And it was glorious. Though small, his frame was no longer totally lacking in any kind of muscles or definition. Now he was lithe and lean, with just the right amount of definition to his body.
He would never be as big and hulking as the human men of Praetoria could get, humans were built to pack on muscles. He was clearly built for speed and agility over brute force. He had the ghost of a 6 pack of abs and one hell of a cute tight ass, if he could say so.
His skin was now a soft metallic gold with silver tiger’s stripes, each silver stripe edged in obsidian black. His hair was now blinding white shot through with threads of gold, silver, and black, falling unbound in gentle waves to his waist.
His eyes still shifted in color to match his mood, this time clearly showing how excited and elated he was.
His facial structure was no longer heart shaped and girlish, and had crossed over into near perfect androgyny with a slender but defined jaw, high cheekbones, and lips that were the perfect amount of fullness. He smiled at his illusory reflection, showing off his sharply pointed canines.
Rather than the tiger’s mask of stripes his face had been marked with before his skin was entirely gold, aside from the silver markings representing the moon phases that danced across his forehead. Three small silver stars glinted at the outer corner of both eyes.
Torric spread his wings, finding he no longer bore a single pair of wings upon his back, but three pairs. The top most pair of wings were a deep indigo shading into delicate pinks and oranges, resembling pictures he’d seen of the rising dawn on other worlds.
The central set of wings were a blinding white edged in gold with black chevrons on the primaries.
The lowest of the three pairs of wings were shaded to look like the end of a red and orange sunset fading into the blues and indigoes of twilight.
“Eminence may I humbly request that you cover yourself?” Karishnemah asked, her eyes downcast. “Not to imply that I find you unattractive, but three of my priestesses have fainted, and two more have nose bleeds after witnessing the magnificence of your naked form.
The door to the ritual chamber opened and there was a sudden feminine scream and then the sound of a body hitting the ground.
“Four of my priestesses have fainted.” The high priestess corrected herself wryly.
“My apologies. I did not realize the effect that I would have upon you.”
He bent over to pick up the robes he had so carelessly dropped to the ground, and there came the sound of another body hitting the ground directly behind him.
Someone else apparently thought he had a magnificent ass as well and had fainted when he’d bent over in front of her, if he had to make a guess.
He started to slip the robes on but found the slits in the back no longer worked with his new wings.
“Holy mother, can you cut the back out of my robes, stopping just above my butt and starting just below my shoulders? My wings do not fit comfortably within this garment as it exists now.”
“Yes of course!” She quickly cut out the panel as directed, allowing him to slip the robes on around them without them catching on the fabric. Conveniently there was now also room for his tail to swish behind him out from under the garment’s confines.
Laekela, one of the few to remain unaffected by his sudden disrobing, retrieved the dropped Skill tome from the woman who had fainted in the doorway while one of the two priestesses still on their feet went to tend to her fallen comrade.
She handed over the Skill tome to him and he placed one hand flat on the cover of the book, imbuing it with his personal power.
The tome began to glow with golden power and knowledge poured into his mind. At the same time the Skill began hollowing out a pocket within his soul that he could store any nonsentient or sapient object within it provided he had the space for it. Since it was in his soul no one would ever be able to steal from it, not even after his death.
A Skill of this caliber and at the rarity it was would have been worth thousands of high grade astral coins on Praetoria and they just handed it over to him without a second thought or request for repayment.
He didn’t need to touch the objects he wanted to store in order to store them, just be within 30 feet of the item or items he wanted to store and will them into his soul. Thus in an instant all his fallen feathers were neatly stored within his soul.
He withdrew two primaries, one from his original set of wings, and one from the set he’d grown and molted all without ever seeing them.
“Holy mother, I would give you one of these two feathers in thanks for removing the curse that has plagued me for my entire life.”
The high priestess’s eyes widened. “You truly honor me, eminence. I did not heal your soul with the intention of seeking repayment. I only did what was right.”
“All the more reason to reward you.” He told her with a gentle smile.
“Then I would like the blue feather, if it pleases you. For that is what you wore when I first laid eyes upon you.”
He handed her the feather and it promptly vanished into whatever storage Skill or item she had on her person.
Torric turned to Laekela, presenting her with the other feather. “A gift to honor you for the care you provided to get me here. You worked very hard to protect me and for that I am grateful.”
The priestess took the offered feather with grave solemnity, tears shining in her blue eyes. “I humbly accept this great gift from you, eminence. It will become a treasured family heirloom, passed down to my children and their children.”
He smiled at her. “Then I am glad.”
“Holy mother.” He began, turning his attention back to the high priestess. “Do you have anyone who knows how to brew Evolution potions?”
“We have two within this temple capable of such a feat, eminence.”
“I will provide enough of my smallest coverts to your alchemists to make a single Evolution for every priest or priestess within this temple, in celebration of my rescue and Evolution. This is the one and only time I will do this. And any extra potions that may be left over after everyone has received theirs will be returned to me.”
“That is very generous, eminence.”
“I am in a generous mood, holy mother. Today is a good day, and I wish to share the joy.”
“All of Solstheen shares in your joy, eminence.”
“Wonderful. I don’t want to take up any more of your time, but I was wondering if I might sell you some additional feathers so that I have the funds to purchase clothing, food, and other necessities?"
Renethera started laughing. “Child, no one is going to charge you for anything on Solstheen. And no one would dream of buying one of your feathers. Now that people know you exist they will just give you money if you say you need some. At least in celestine controlled sectors.”
“Now that you have System access I will transfer you funds now.” Karishnemah told him.
Karishnemah would like to transfer 1,000,000 greater C grade astral coins to you.
Would you like to accept?
Y / N
He accepted the transfer after prompting from Renethera, suddenly richer than he had ever dreamed of being in his life.
“Thank you, holy mother. Might I also request an escort who can show me around the city?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I’ll do it.” Renethera offered immediately. “He needs a stronger protector than what you can provide currently until we level him up a bit more. I’m also going to take him to raid your Skill library, besides, we need to have a conversation, Luminari to Luminari.”
“Of course, eminence. You are naturally welcome to anything within our walls.”
The celestial dragon wrapped an arm around his shoulder and began guiding him out of the room, leaving behind the gaggle of excited priestesses.
Chapter 3: Stat Sheet Feel Free to Skip!
Notes:
This is just the sheet for Torric now that he has access to the System. I won't be including them in the story themselves, so that people who are uninterested can skip them. However a lot of the fun for me when it comes to LitRPG is to see the stats and stuff and how they evolve.
Chapter Text
Name: Celivor “Torric” Veythari
Race: Luminari
Bloodline: Celestial Tiger
Class: Apex Fang of the Celestine
Grade: E Level 53
Primary Attributes :
Reflexes, Willpower, Presence, Agility
Secondary Attributes :
Vitality, Focus, Toughness, Charisma
Experience Banked: 3,875
Free Points: –
Level Bonus:
+10 all Primary Attributes, +5 all Secondary Attributes, +15 free points
Physical Attributes
Strength 140
Dexterity 388
Agility 695
Reflexes 465
Toughness 278
Endurance 350
Vitality 283
Mental Attributes :
Intelligence 218
Wisdom 164
Perception 317
Wits 167
Creativity 362
Resolve 463
Insight 316
Social Attributes:
Charisma 527
Presence 841
Manipulation 450
Composure 262
Empathy 270
Charm 569
Leadership 163
Magical Attributes :
Intuition 218
Willpower 845
Focus 449
Attunement 287
Affinity 115
Arcana 116
Spirit 183
Traits
Physical Attack Power 474
Physical Attack Speed 74 m/s
Accuracy 353
Dodge 1,740
Defense 942
Speed (Ground) 108 mph
Speed (Flight) 150 mph
Evasion (Ground) 105
Evasion (Flight) 178
Crit Chance 24.2%
Critical Damage 164%
Casting Speed 113 m/s
Spell Power 559
Spell Save DC 13
Spell Crit Chance 24.15%
Spell Crit Damage 195%
Class Features
Aura of Sovereignty (Passive)
Allies within a radius equal to 10 × Presence gain bonus Willpower and resistance to fear or mind control effects. Enemies must succeed in a contested Presence check to willingly attack the Apex directly unless already engaged in combat.
Divine Mandate
Once per day, the Apex may issue a command to any creature that understands them. If the target’s Willpower is less than the Scion’s Presence + Spirit, they must obey for a short duration, believing the order to be righteous or inevitable.
Blessing of the Divine Lineage
Channel Bahumet’s power to restore health, cleanse debuffs, or grant stat boosts to one or more allies. Scales with Attunement and Willpower. May also be used outside combat to bless land, forge alliances, or consecrate sacred spaces.
Celestial Strike
A single attack charged with radiant power, dealing bonus damage against dark, unholy, or oath-breaking targets. Can manifest as a weapon strike, claw swipe, or beam of light depending on the Scion’s fighting style.
Mantle of Authority (Passive)
Any negotiation, performance, or public speaking attempt benefits from a major bonus to Charisma and Presence checks. The Scion’s reputation precedes them, and rumors of their divine favor spread without effort.
Eclipse Mantle (Passive)
While in combat, the Apex radiates both light and shadow energies. Allies within range gain +X% resistance to elemental damage and +X% morale regeneration. Where X equals ½ their Spell Power. Enemies suffer reduced accuracy and an escalating Willpower penalty the longer they remain in the aura.
Light’s Mercy, Shadow’s Wrath
Switch between Mercy Mode (boosts healing, buffs, and protective barriers) and Wrath Mode (boosts damage, debuffs enemies, and increases execution thresholds). Changing modes has a brief, awe-inspiring animation that stuns nearby enemies for 3 seconds.
Predator’s Benediction (Passive)
When an enemy is defeated within the Apex’s aura, all allies gain a stacking attack and movement buff, while the Seraph regenerates a small portion of health, stamina, and mana.
Celestial Ascension (Ultimate)
Once per day the Apex transforms into their full Celestine warform, a radiant, tiger-striped figure crowned with an eclipse halo and clad in living starlight armor. During this form:
- All attacks deal bonus radiant and shadow damage.
- Healing and buffs applied are doubled
- .Enemies of lower Willpower than the Seraph’s Presence auto-falter or retreat on first sight
Celestial Bloodright
Immune to most poisons, all diseases, and most fear effects; divine opponents must exert significant willpower to target you directly.
First Fang’s Dominion (Passive)
- All beastkin allies within a massive radius gain +1% of the Apex’s corresponding stats to their Strength, Willpower, and Reflex.
- Enemies with animalistic traits feel an overwhelming urge to submit or flee.
- In social encounters, this passive manifests as primal dominance, hostile entities must succeed on high-difficulty Will checks to resist intimidation or seduction.
Celestine Rend
- Unleashes a three-strike combo that bypasses 50–100% of armor, shields, and resistances.
- If the target’s HP falls below 30% of their total life threshold after the second strike, the third strike becomes a Godrend, instantly killing mortals and dealing devastating divine damage to rankers.
Roar of the Eclipse Hunt
- A divine roar that causes fear, paralysis, or awe in a massive area of effect
- Lunar flames erupt from the ground in a circle within the area, creating a hunting arena where enemies cannot escape via teleportation or invisibility.
Predator’s Majesty
- Switches between Velvet Court mode (social presence, negotiation boosts, seduction auras, +Charm & Diplomacy) and Blood Hunt mode (+Speed, Damage, Critical Chance, and Healing on Kill).
- Mode swapping is instant but has a 15s cooldown before switching again.
Fang of the Celestine (Ultimate)
- Summons an astral tiger avatar the size of a fortress to fight alongside you for a short duration.
- The avatar’s strikes cause shockwaves that disrupt magic, destroy fortifications, and create safe zones for allies within its pawprint radius.
- After the duration ends, its essence flows into you, granting a massive stat boost and temporary regeneration
Chapter Text
“So what did you want to talk to me about?” Torric asked.
“Not here, not yet. There will be time enough for that conversation. We have tomes to raid.”
She must have known where to go already for she took him unerringly straight to a room guarded by two armed and armored priests.
They both bowed to the two of them.
“The holy mother has given us permission to enter and browse the library to help prepare our lost child for his future.” Renethera told the two guards.
They nodded and immediately unlocked the door, opening it for them then stepping aside so they could enter.
Renethera shut the door behind them, sealing it shut with magic.
He looked around the room with great interest. It looked like a much smaller version of the library he had been allowed to visit on occasion in Praetoria. Only the Praetorian library was full of normal books, and not Skill tomes or Spell books and scrolls. It was a paradise beyond his wildest dreams as someone who had been expecting to be serving as a magicless bedslave if things had progressed as intended.
Renethra started walking through the stacks, reading the shelves as she moved. She stopped when she realized he wasn’t following her.
“Short stuff, keep up.” She ordered him.
He immediately rushed over and she started shoving Skill books into his arms.
“Put these in your storage. You’ll be learning them over the coming days.” She instructed.
He immediately did as he was told, cramming tome after tome into his soul storage, though he began to grow more and more trepidatious the more books she handed him.
“Is this really ok?” He asked dubiously. “You have to have given me a dozen tomes so far…”
“Oh absolutely. Now what kind of Class do you have? So far I’m just picking out general purpose Skills that I feel like all Luminaris should possess.”
“It's a combat Class focusing mostly on DPS but I could work as an off tank, if I put the stats in. I probably won’t. I have a lot of naturally high social attributes because of my training as a domivayn.”
“That’s a fancy kind of bedslave, right?”
“Most people don’t know that.”
“We Luminaris have access to more information than the average person. I have a Skill that lets me understand aspects of people’s culture just by being around them long enough. It’s a pretty rare one but if you can find something similar you should definitely snap it up.
“Tch.” She clicked her tongue in annoyance. “The best quality they have here is Rare and not many. Most of these are just multiple copies of the same Skills. We will find better in the city. We’re done here. But first. There is no way ‘Torric’ is your name. What does the System have you registered as? Who are your kin?”
“My name is Celivor Veythari, but I was raised with the name Torric.”
Renethra led him back out of the library, the guards locking the door behind them as they left. She led him to the nearest exit and began walking through the streets.
People parted before them, bowing when they passed, the back of their first two fingers pressed to their foreheads.
“Your pardon, eminences.” A well dressed woman stopped them as they walked. “If I may offer you a token of devotion?”
“You may.” Renethera replied regally. “You have the honor to meet one of our young ones on his first trip outside his home. I am his escort while he remains on Solstheen. This is Eminence Celivor Veythari of the Celestial Tigers. He has never before received a token of devotion.”
The woman bowed low, doing the same two finger salute that everyone else had. “I am honored indeed to meet such an illustrious personage on his first day outside the conclaves. And that I am the first to offer him devotion.”
Torric looked between the two women, not sure what to do.
“Give her your hand, young master.” Renethera instructed him. “She will give you a gift, and in turn, if you feel so moved, you may give her a Blessing. Whichever you wish among the Blessings you possess.”
“I only have one Blessing, is that acceptable?” He asked the dragon nervously.
“Yes that is fine, young master.” She turned her attention back to the woman. “As you can see, he is still quite young and unsure of himself in public. We appreciate the grace you have extended to us while the young one finds his footing.”
“It is my honor to receive his eminence’s first Blessing, if he so chooses to grant me one.”
Torric nervously held out his hand to the strange elven woman.
Nidoria Se’torai wishes to transfer 50 greater C grade astral coins to you.
Would you like to accept?
Y / N
He gave a hesitant look to his escort, who nodded encouragingly. “Accept it, child. Then give her your Blessing. The more mana you pour into it the more you show you have approved of her act of devotion and the longer your Blessing will last upon her soul.”
He selected yes, and the funds immediately transferred into his account.
Unsure of what to do next, he sought his knew memories and found that in order to bless her he had to mark her skin with a bodily fluid, generally saliva was considered the easiest option. He brought her hand up to his mouth, tongue darting across the pulse point in her wrist.
He flooded the mark with mana, branding it onto her aura and soul. He wasn’t sure how much to funnel into the Blessing, and so opted for the side of generosity in order to make a good impression. Or at least he hoped it was a sign of generosity and not being cheap.
When he released her hand a brand in the shape of his lips was emblazoned on her skin, shifting between silver and gold depending on how the light struck it.
“A well done, if enthusiastic first Blessing.” Renethera told him with a smile.
The woman, Nidoria stared at the mark in awe before bowing over and over to him. “You honor me, eminence. I shall proudly display your brand for all of my days.”
“Spread the word of the young master and his generosity to those who offer devotion. The great temple of Bahumet has already prepared a shrine within it dedicated to his eminence’s glory and worship, should you wish to continue to show devotion.”
“Of course, eminence. You bless me with the knowledge of the young master’s shrine. I will gather my family to show the appropriate gratitude for one who has Blessed me so greatly. I would offer you devotion as well.”
Renethera shook her head. “Peace, child. Save your devotion for he who has marked you. He is young and needs every follower he can get. I have enough stored devotion that I do not need to steal offerings from my charge.”
Nidoria nodded again and bowed thrice more before hurrying away.
“Did I do something wrong?” He asked anxiously.
“You gave her a greater Blessing, and a permanent brand at that. It shows that you have marked her, and her family, for celestial favor. The first Blessing of a Luminari is usually a potent one indeed, and you certainly lived up to that.”
“So should I have not done that?”
“You were fine, young one. And you have undoubtedly gained the undying loyalty of that woman and her entire family. By her dress and bearing she was one of the aristocrats in the capital. Which Blessing did you grant her?”
“The Blessing of Divine Lineage.”
“Oh that’s a good one for your first Blessing. You’ll gain more as you gain worshipers and levels of devotion.”
“She gave me 50 greater C grade coins!”
“Then your Blessing was quite appropriate for such a generous offering. The Blessing of the Divine Lineage will allow that woman to transfer the brand to a child when she so chooses, and they will be able to pass it on to another, and so on and so forth until you or the great Lady your mother rescinds your Blessing.
They were stopped thrice more on the street as they walked twice by people who had been dressed with similar expensive clothing and jewelry as the first one. They did not offer nearly the amount of money as Nidoria had, and he gave them a comparatively weaker Blessing for it.
The third person to stop him, however, was no wealthy adult, but a young girl wearing a slave’s collar. Thin and barefoot, her garments clean but clearly old and worn. She offered him not money, but a simple flower, slightly wilted, its stem unevenly broken, likely picked from a nearby park or public garden.
He knelt on one knee in front of the girl, ignoring the fact that his pristine feathers were now draped across the dirty cobblestone street. He gently caressed the girl’s face.
“Hello little one.” He greeted her. “You are very brave to approach me. Is this your offering of devotion?”
She nodded shyly.
“This is the greatest gift I have received since coming to Solstheen. A simple offering from the pure soul of an innocent child, given with no thought of reciprocity or earning my favor.” He spoke aloud, more for the people watching on the street than for the benefit of the child.
He pressed his lips to the girl’s forehead, directly over her third eye, imbuing the mark and her body with as much magic as he could pack into her tiny frame without doing harm to it. “If your master is ever unkind or mistreats you, go to the temple of Bahumet and you will find sanctuary for you and your family, for you carry the greatest Blessing I know how to give.”
The girl’s eyes widened with a mixture of wonder and shy pride. She nodded again, smiling in that way only a child could, naive, innocent, and utterly guileless, her gaze filled with the unshakable hero-worship of the young. He stood, and ruffled her hair, before telling the girl to run along home.
As she darted away, the mark of his lips shone brilliantly upon her brow. Unlike Nidoria’s shifting silver-and-gold brand, the child’s Blessing was a solid, unbroken gold, catching the sunlight in a pure, steady glow that seemed to defy shadow.
“You just changed the entire trajectory of that child’s life.” Renethera commented as he stood. “If she and her family are still slaves by the time the first sun sets tonight I would be utterly shocked.”
“Good. The life of a slave in Praetoria is rarely kind. I do not know how slaves are treated in this world, but if I can save even one child from a potential life of mistreatment I will.”
“You are a kind and benevolent Luminari for one so young.” The dragon told him approvingly.
They continued another block before she stopped outside a tailor’s shop, directing him to enter. A bell chimed overhead as they stepped in, and the quiet hush of the shop closed around them, air scented faintly of pressed linen and cedar oil. Bolts of fabric in jewel tones lined the walls, and finished display garments rested on padded stands.
“One moment.” The light tenor of a man called from the back when they entered.
He emerged a minute later from behind a curtain, immediately bowing in respect when he saw precisely who had entered into his shop.
“Your eminence, Renethera, it is an honor to have you visit my shop once more. And you bring with you someone new, but no less illustrious.”
“This is his eminence Celivor Veythari. He has just recently left his home and come to Solstheen to complete his education. He needs an appropriate wardrobe from start to finish. He came to me with nothing but a single set of robes and a pair of sandals.”
“I am honored that you would think of me to outfit the young master. I will of course set aside all my current commissions, and those of my apprentices as well, so that we might devote all of our time to the task of outfitting his eminence as swiftly as possible.
“Tordil here,” Renethera added with a small smile, “is renowned for his skill in dressing those with wings. Let him measure you, and trust his craft. He will not lead you astray when it comes to fashion.”
Torric nodded, following the stranger to a back fitting room. The space was warm and softly lit, a standing mirror to one side, a measuring stool in the center. He disrobed without hesitation, allowing the tailor to work. The tailor carefully measured every inch of his body, his hands steady, methodical, and professional, but there was an undeniable sensitivity to his touch.
Each measurement was taken with meticulous care, from shoulder breadth to the sweep of each wing. He took extra time mapping the span and curvature of all three pairs, fingers brushing through feathers with practiced delicacy
The sensation of his gentle fingers brushing across some of the most sensitive parts of his body made Torric’s breath hitch despite himself, a slow heat curling low in his groin. By the time the measuring tape skimmed the base of his wings again, he felt the betraying swell of arousal, and embarrassment flared across his cheeks.
“It’s natural,” Tordil said gently, with a knowing smile that somehow managed not to feel mocking. “It happens to most of my feathered clients. Wings are… sensitive.”
Torric swallowed around the knot in his throat, nodding mutely. The tailor finished measuring him, then stepped outside the fitting room, shutting the curtains behind him to give him privacy to collect himself.
It took a few minutes of deep steadying breaths to get fevered flesh to settle and he could dress again.
From Tordil’s shop he was taken to a cobbler where several different sets of shoes and boots were ordered for him. Then to an armorer to plan out the set of scale male that he was to be outfitted with free of charge, just like everything else had been.
After they finished with the armorer Renethera took him to a nearby restaurant to sit down and refresh themselves with food and ale. A fresh plate of food was brought out for him every time he finished the previous and indicated he wished for more. The same was true for the ale, which was a light ale for the time of day, meant more for flavor and something to wash down the meal with than for him to get drunk off of. Not that he’d ever been drunk. That required far more money than he’d ever managed to scrape together on Praetoria, even assuming that the orphanage matron would have allowed him to go out and act so irresponsibly to begin with.
The food at the restaurant was good, but didn’t remotely compare to the feasts he’d had in the dungeon before coming to the surface. One of the people in the raid had some kind of secondary cooking Class that had turned normal meals into feasts for the senses.
After they left the restaurant they went to several jewelers, acquiring both mundane and enchanted accessories for all occasions. The moment he looked even remotely interested in a piece it was immediately packaged up for him, and nothing he could say otherwise would dissuade the shop owners from giving away piece after piece of expensive jewelry.
The same was true when they started going into various shops that sold enchanted items of all varieties. More and more people on the street were also stopping him to offer ‘acts of devotion’ as word of the young Celestial Tiger’s first trip into the city spread, along with the word of the Blessings he was giving out.
Children in particular, some unattended, others brought by their parents, had begun to follow him through the streets trying to offer him any shiny bit or bauble they found, or a fresh picked flower. Every child got at least some degree of Blessing, though he only gave stronger Blessings to the children he sensed were there truly without thought of reward and merely wanted to see the newly arrived Luminari.
They were finally on their way back to the temple after a day of exploration when something drew Torric’s attention.
“We need to go this way.” He told Renethera, tugging her in the direction of a side street. The urgent feeling grew stronger the further they went, making him speed up, tail lashing behind him, displaying his agitation.
They arrived at the place he needed to be just in time to see a well dressed man smash the handle of his cane into the head of the slave child who was kneeling in front of him. A child who bore his mark, one of the lesser ones, but still, one of his marks.
He flashed across the space in a second, ripping the cane from the man’s hand and swinging it full force into his face, using the handle of the cane like a club. Teeth and blood sprayed across the park as the man went flying.
Torric knelt over the child, using the sleeve of his robe to wipe the tears from his eyes. A knot was already forming on the boy’s forehead. He recast his Blessing on the boy, granting him a greater boon to his healing, and the large goose egg melted away as if it had never existed.
He took the boy’s slave collar in his hands and ripped it in half, dropping the remains onto the ground.
Renethera stood over the moaning and heavily injured man on the ground while he soothed the slave child. It took a bit of coaxing, and a piece of candy to get the boy calmed down enough to find out that he had been sent to get Torric’s Blessing, only he hadn’t gotten a sufficient Blessing to please his master, drawing his now former master’s ire.
It was Torric’s own mark that had led him to the boy, warning him of the danger that the child was in. The boy clung to Torric’s neck, sticky fingers curling into his hair as he sucked quietly on the caramel that he had been given. His pulse was a rapid flutter against Torric’s shoulder, but the trembling was slowly easing.
Renethera’s voice was calm but edged with steel. “He struck someone under your personal protection. How you answer will echo in every corner of Solstheen.”
Torric’s tail lashed back and forth, the decision crystallizing in his mind. “He’ll lose the hand that struck the blow, and two fingers on the other. He may choose which fingers remain. Gouge out one eye for his insolence in ignoring my mark. And he is barred from owning slaves for the next ten years. By the setting of the first sun, every enslaved soul he owns will be freed with three months’ noble servant wages, or his life is forfeit. This child stays with me.”
Renethera gave the faintest approving nod. “As your guardian, I will carry it out.”
“If I could hex him so that the wounds couldn’t be regenerated with magic I would, but I don’t know those kinds of Skills or spells.”
“I do.” Renethera replied.
Torric used his foot to roll the man onto his back, digging his heel into the man’s sternum. “You keep your life only because this child was not permanently harmed. I will not be so lenient with the next person to harm a child bearing my mark."
He stood over the man, watching with stony detachment as Renethera laid his hand out flat on the ground and cut if off just above the wrist with one swift blow. The man screamed in anguish and pain, shrieking louder as she removed his ring and pinky fingers from his remaining hand. He mercifully fainted when she ripped his eye from the socket with her bare hand.
Chains made of black smoke encircled the man’s body, healing the injuries but leaving the remnants of the wounds scarred and blackened. A black rune appeared in the center of his forehead. The celestial dragon gestured for the city guard to take up possession of the man, directing them to ensure that the rest of Torric’s punishment was followed through with.
He turned to the crowd of spectators who had gathered around him, giving them a measuring look, activating his Predator’s Majesty to further bolster his boosts from Mantle of Authority and Aura of Sovereignty .
The murmurs hushed as his wings unfurled to their full span, dawnlight and twilight feathers glinting. His voice carried, resonant and sharp as a temple bell.”
“I am the celestial tiger known as Celivor Veythari, son of the celestine Bahumet. I was stolen from my people when I was an infant, trained from childhood to become a bedslave for a noble lord by the humans of the world known as Praetoria. I was rescued from slavery, and brought here to Solsthreen, unaware of my heritage, cursed from infancy to have my magic bound and be unable to access the System that governs us all.
I do not plan on overturning slavery in this world, or any other, but I will warn you now. If word reaches me that you have abused an enslaved child the abuse you heaped upon them will be returned to you one thousand fold. They may not bear my personal mark, but all enslaved children are mine to protect, and protect them I will. This is your one and only warning.”
“You heard his eminence.” Renethera added, coming to stand behind him, her authority backing his. “Spread his proclamation across the length and breadth of the capital, and across the world beyond. The enslaved children of Solstheen are under the direct protection of the son of Bahumet.”
The crowd bowed as one, some in reverence, others in fear. And above them all, the boy on Torric’s hip looked at him with wide, wonder filled eyes as if he’d just been lifted from the mud into the sun.
He carried the boy back to the temple, only stopping to Bless every enslaved child to cross his path between the park he’d stolen the boy from and the temple, and no one else.
Renethera guided him back to his suite, where Torric collapsed onto the bed, holding onto the small child in his arms to keep from shaking apart.
He’d just casually maimed someone and had them cursed like it was nothing. He didn’t even stop to ask the man’s name or rank. Didn’t stop to think about the repercussions of his actions. He’d just been so angry. So very angry.
And now that anger was gone and the fear of retribution for going against what was probably a very powerful man had begun to take root inside him.
“You are frightened.” Renethera commented as she dropped onto a nearby chair. “Why?”
“I struck a noble lord. I ordered him to be permanently maimed and disfigured, then I stripped him of who knows how many slaves. I don’t even know his name or rank! I have surely angered multitudes. Especially having just admitted to being a slave myself.”
Renethera started laughing as if he had just told one of the most hilarious jokes she had ever heard.
“You striking that man will be given about as much care that man would have given the boy in your arms after striking him. More than likely he will find himself disowned from his family, divorced from his spouse, cast out of his family home, abandoned by his friends and living penniless on the streets before the second sun sets tonight.
As for the slaves, I do believe many people will be rethinking how they treat their slaves over the coming weeks, lest they find themselves on the wrong side of your displeasure.
You forget. On this world you are considered a god. Laws do not apply to you here. The kings and queens that rule Solstheen are required to bow to your demands and not the other way around. The only authority higher than you are Luminari of a higher grade or level than you are and the celestines themselves.
There are three slaves for every free man in Solstheen, roughly. You can damn well bet that within the week most of those slaves will be praying to you. Will be making offerings to you. You have labeled yourself a former slave and promised to protect their children from harm. If I thought you had a calculating bone in your body I would accuse you of manufacturing today’s events from start to finish just to gain the devotion of so many.”
“So I’m not in trouble?”
Renesthera laughed again. “No child, you are not in trouble. A new Luminari has appeared on the board and so far all you have done is Bless children and punish those who would abuse them. If only every new Luminari were so gentle in their visits. What do you plan to do with the boy?”
“I…. don’t know. I suppose we should try to find his parents. I didn’t think about his care beyond removing him from the situation as swiftly as possible.”
“The way the little tike is clinging to you I doubt we could separate you before his parents show up. Assuming he has any. Why don’t you give him a bath with lavender oil to help calm him, and yourself, while I send someone to retrieve clean clothes and food for the two of you, as well as send a novitiate to find the boy’s parents.”
He nodded. “I will do that. Come little one, you need a nice warm bath, and then perhaps a nice cold glass of buttermilk with a berry scone drizzled with honey and a heaping dollop of fresh clotted cream. That was a treat that always made me happy when I was a boy. What do you think?”
The boy nodded eagerly, not letting go of the hem of his robe that was twisted in his tiny hands.
He carried the boy to the bathroom undressing and wrapping a towel tightly around his waist before stripping the boy of his rags and carrying him into the bathwater.
He gently, but thoroughly, cleaned every inch of the boy’s skin, then carefully washed his hair and combed every knot from his hair. By the time he had finished cleaning the child up he looked almost likely an entirely new child and novitiates had brought towels and fresh clothes for the both of them.
He helped the little boy dress, and dressed himself before carrying him back into the main part of his suite. A whole feast had been laid out, all of it simple fare. High quality and expertly cooked, but it was still food that peasants would traditionally eat and not nobility. It had clearly been ordered in mind of the child who would not be used to fancy high class dining. Not that Torric was exactly experienced with high class food.
A soft knock at his door near the end of their meal interrupted them.
“Come in.” He called out, pitching his voice to be heard on the other side of the door.
A novitiate bowed the moment she entered. “Forgive me, eminence. The holy mother wishes you to come to the front of the temple. She said there is something you need to see.”
He took the boy, Dor, by the hand, walking at his pace towards the front entrance of the temple.
A dozen guards, the high priestess, and Renethera stood gathered by the door.
“Is something wrong?” He asked immediately.
“No. But this is something you need to see.” Renethera responded. “Walk out those doors and you will understand.”
He gave them a confused look then opened the door of the temple and stepped outside and into a crowd of hundreds, maybe even a few thousands people had crowded into the courtyard in front of the temple and were spilling out into the street beyond.
Young men, old men, maiden girls, mothers, and grandmothers. Children of every age and sex. They stood gathered before the temple, every single one of them bearing the iron collar of a slave around their throats.
“The Celestial Savior emerges!” Someone yelled among the crowd.
In an instant every eye was on him and as one the mass of slaves knelt, pressing their foreheads to the ground in front of him.
Torric froze, not sure what to do in the face of the obvious obeisance of the mass of slaves. He hadn’t really gotten a chance yet to ask what was meant by devotion when Renesthera spoke of it, but now, seeing the people before him, he understood.
A powerful aura gathered among the crowd, an aura centered around him. Around their worship of him. It was palpable. Tangible. He could smell it, taste it, hear it. It infused him, filled his blood, body, and soul with more power than the mana that had flooded through him earlier.
This. This unshakable belief in him, in his power, in his protection. It was as heady as any drug, as intoxicating as the finest of wine. More wonderful than the most comforting hug from the parents he didn’t remember and were likely dead. This was what they meant by devotion.
He understood with sudden clarity why it was so desired, so important. Why Renethera had said that if he were any other she would have accused him of setting up the earlier conflict to lead to this very outcome.
“Please rise.” He told them gently. “I did not come here to rule over you or to demand your obedience or worship. I came to this world to find my family. To make connections. To discover where I came from. To make friends. I will do my damnedest to protect you when I can, to protect your children if I can. But I do not do this to gain your approval or admiration.
I do this because I know the fear you labor under. I understand the cost of what you have given up to be enslaved. You are my brothers and sisters, not by blood or lineage, but in chains. We are all brothers and sisters. We know the struggle. The pain. The fear. We must be there for each other, for our masters will not. We must support one another, for the freed men will care not for your struggles.
I understand your fear and pain, having lived my whole life in the shadow of the slaver’s block. Being told from the earliest memory that I was weak. That I was useless. A waste of resources. Being told that if I didn’t become a slave and work hard that the best way I could serve the gods would be to kill myself so that I was not a burden on those stronger than me.
They called me misborn. Cursed. Halfbreed. Labeled me nothing more than a curiosity. An exotic toy meant to pleasure my masters in bed, or bent over their desk, or wherever else my owners chose to take me.
I know your pain, I have felt at the very least the echo of your pain. I understand your struggle. Your fears. Your hopes. Your dreams. I cannot promise to save you, not all of you, not even most of you. But I promise to do my best for those of you I can help.
I did not come here seeking your devotion. I did not know what it was, what it meant to the Luminari. But now that I have it I promise that I will do my best to be worthy of what you have offered to me. I see many children among you, bring them forward.”
He spent hours among the children, speaking with them, playing with them, Blessing them. Devotion swirled through the air, a potent intoxicant.
Finally he told them to return to their homes, and they all began leaving, minus one family, a mother, father, and two more children. They did not wear a collar, and Dor had greeted his family happily. When they approached.
“It is because of you we have been freed, eminence.” Dor’s mother had told him earnestly.
“I’ll ask the temple to help you find a home and work.” He promised them. “Its the least I could do for upending your lives.”
“You have already done so much for us, eminence.” Dor’s father tried to protest.
“I want to do this.” He told them.
Renethera approached for the first time since he had come outside.
“His eminence needs to rest now.” She announced. “Whatever he has promised we will ensure you get it. Come, young master, before you fall flat on your face.”
Torric bid the family good night then followed his new mentor back inside the temple. Every step deeper into the temple away from the courtyard and the swirling cloud of devotion weighed him down even further, fatigue washing over him.
By the time he reached his suite he was staggering, vision blurring from fatigue. “What happened, why am I so weak?” He asked as Renethera helped him into a chair.
“The slaves. Their devotion. It fills us up and empowers us, but if you spend time in such high concentrations, especially unused to it, it can be very tiring until your body finishes processing it.”
She helped him change into a sleeping gown and into bed. He was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.
Chapter 5
Notes:
Yes I left this on a cliffhanger. That was done deliberately. It is 1am and tomorrow I leave for a 5 day camping vacation. Writing will happen, but posting is another story... cell service can be spotty. I am bringing you to the edge to leave you in antici.....pation.
Edit: also if you do want some kinky sex, head over to my other work where there is sex almost every chapter
Chapter Text
When he woke he felt lighter, more refreshed, more powerful. He dressed himself in another set of robes, none of his ordered clothes had arrived yet, not that he had expected them to. Renethera was nowhere to be found within his suite, so he opted to do a bit of exploring.
He didn’t get far before he was stopped by one of the priests. “Eminence, may I escort you anywhere?” The priest asked after genuflecting.
“No, I was just wandering. I didn’t know where Renethera was or how to find her, so I figured I’d explore the temple until she showed up. Should I return to my room? I don’t want to cause trouble for anyone.”
“You are welcome to go anywhere in the temple you desire.” The priest quickly told him. “But if I may offer the advice, you should not be unattended for the time being. You were heading in the direction of the public areas of the temple and without her eminence to guide and protect you I worry that you will be overwhelmed when you are seen. The number of worshippers offering their devotion at your shrine is far greater than we anticipated.”
“Oh. Then I’ll return to my room. Do you think you could find Renethera for me? And who would I speak to about breaking my fast? There is something that I can smell that is absolutely delicious, the longer we stand here the more appetizing it smells.”
“It is likely the offerings of food that have been sent in your name that you are sensing.” The priest explained. “I will have a meal prepared for you. Please allow me to escort you back to your room.”
Torric followed him back to his room, idly wandering the rooms that made up the greater suite, exploring it in more detail since he had nothing better to do. There were a number of books in a case in the sitting room portion of his suite, all of which were totally unfamiliar to him. Seeing the books made him remember the stacks of Skill books within his soul storage and he began taking them out one by one, absorbing their knowledge one at a time.
They hadn’t gotten a chance to go looking for Skill tomes and spellbooks the day before, having spent too much time, he couldn’t really call it shopping since he hadn’t paid for anything, acquiring? other items like clothes, accessories, and magic items. Then he got distracted with Dor.
There was a knock on his door and he called out for whoever was on the other side to enter.
Renethera stepped in, followed by a novitiate pushing a cart piled high with carafes of fresh juices, cut fruit, creamy cheeses, and golden pastries still warm from the oven. The air filled instantly with a mingling of sweetness, butter, and the faint tang of citrus. His stomach tightened in eager anticipation, his eyes drawn to the food as if pulled by an invisible tether.
Only Renethera’s presence and the knowledge he would likely get in trouble for it kept him from eating directly off the cart. Instead he waited with outer patience but inner impatience for the novitiate to prepare him a plate and pour him a glass of juice and bring it to him.
He took a sip of the juice, it had the same burst of refreshing citrus he had come to know was called an orange on this world. The sweet yet acidic flavor burst across his tongue like the divine ambrosia he’d been taught the gods consumed on Praetoria.
But it was more than flavor. Power threaded through the liquid, subtle at first, then unfurling like warmth in his veins. It wasn’t the raw, surging force of mana, it was gentler, deeper, resonating in a place far below muscle or bone. His pulse quickened, skin prickling as though invisible fingers traced along his nerves.
“What-?” He started to ask.
“This food was made with offerings sent by those who worship you. Much of it no doubt was sent by the slaves from the former lord that you freed yesterday. As offerings they are infused with devotion, providing sustenance to more than just your body.” Renethera explained. “Have you checked your status since awakening?”
“No. Should I have?”
“It will likely have changed while you slept as your body processed the devotion that you absorbed the night before.”
Torric opened his screen and found that he had not only gained 2 levels the night before but that several of his attributes had gone up beyond what he would have gained from his level ups. He also now had something listed as Devotion and devotion points, and 2 new Blessings.
“What is devotion?” He asked.
“It is a power source much like mana or experience, one that only divine beings can access and use. On your status specifically your Devotion stat is based on how many people earnestly worship you. Your devotion points are based on how many people worship you. They can be spent to gain Skills, Spells, and Class features, or to increase your attributes directly. The higher your devotion climbs, the more levels you will inherently gain purely from people’s worship.”
“I didn’t realize I’d get power from people worshipping me. Or that people would worship me at all.”
Renethera arched a brow. “What did you think would happen? I told you several times that in Celestine-held spaces, you are considered a god come to the material world. That wasn’t just allegory.”
“I thought you meant… revered. Respected. Maybe a few prayers here and there.” He shook his head, still trying to reconcile it. “Not kneeling crowds and offerings that make my skin buzz.”
“To them, you are not a figure of respect,” she said evenly. “You are their living salvation. The difference is vast. They do not simply hope you will act on their behalf when they pray to you, they believe whole heartedly that you will. That belief is a current of power keyed specifically to you, and you in turn are its conduit. In you, they place their fears, their needs, and their hopes for a future they cannot make themselves.”
“That’s… a lot,” he murmured.
“It is. Devotion is both a gift and a burden. It will strengthen you, yes, but it will also bind you. The more you accept, the more they will expect. The more you will feel drawn to act. Their faith will make you powerful, but their faith will also demand you remain worthy of it.”
Torric looked down into his juice, the faint shimmer of light at its surface hinting at the power laced within. Gift and burden. He wasn’t sure yet which one would weigh more.
He had been meant to be a bedslave, and now he was a god. He was only just now beginning to realize what that meant.
He wanted to inhale the food upon his plate while Renethera instructed him in what it truly meant to be Luminari, but instead took the time to savor each bite with deliberate slowness. This was an offering meant for him and should not be devoured with haste, but treated with respect.
Also it was too damn good to not savor.
“Now,” Renethera began, her voice carrying the weight of command, “I heard you tried to go out without an escort. For the time being, you will not do that. The priests here, and the citizens of Solstheen, would never bar your way if you insisted but here, I outrank you. My word is to be considered your law. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered at once, obedient and unthinking.
“You are not to leave this room without a Luminari escort, nor go anywhere in public without one. This is for your protection as much as for the common populace. The more famous you become, the more people will try to stop you in the street. You are only an E grade and early E at that. Someone of a higher grade could overwhelm you with little effort. And you are still vulnerable to the pull of your worshipers’ needs when faced with them directly. That is why you need my protection.” Her eyes narrowed faintly. “Not to mention you are entirely too passive and meek, thanks to your previous training as a slave. That must change before you are permitted to walk among the people alone.”
Power under the System was determined by grade, each step up an exponential leap. An F grade was ten times stronger than a G, and an E grade ten times stronger than an F. Within each grade, there were more thresholds, early, middle, and late, that marked your climb in strength up the ladder of the heavens. As an early E, Torric was as weak as he could be in this tier, though he was close to middle E. It would come at level 65. He was at 55.
“We have decisions to make about your future. Naturally you are free to go anywhere you wish, and do whatever you wish. You just have to take me with you as long as you remain on Solstheen, or our sister worlds. If you choose to go to any other world we’ll have to find you a guardian from their world. I do not advise leaving celestine controlled space for the time being.”
“So if I decide to stay, then what?”
“What do you want to do? You can do anything you want, but if I may make a suggestion?”
“Of course. I’m open to any advice.”
“Go to university. Make friends. Be a kid. At E grade your life span is in centuries, and you’ll undoubtedly live longer than that as you Evolve. There are many universities meant for those under a century who have not passed into D grade yet. They would all take you without question if you indicated you wanted to attend.”
Torric bit his lower lip in thought. He did sound like a good idea. And it would help him learn more about the strange world he had found himself in.
“Are there dungeon schools?” He asked. “I want to learn how to fight and dive.”
Renethera smiled. “There are several. Including a few top universities here in Solaris so you wouldn’t have to travel.”
“Can you make arrangements for me to attend whichever one you think is best?” He asked meekly.
“Yes, but don’t be so meek. It isn’t a question, but a command. ‘Make arrangements for me to attend the best university available.’ Try again.”
“Make arrangements for me to attend the best university in Solaris.” He told her, his voice steady, tone commanding. He felt like a fraud.
“Better.” She smiled at him. “Have you absorbed the Skill tomes from yesterday yet?”
“I just finished.”
“Good. We will acquire more today, then register you with the dungeon association.”
He finished every last crumb of food that had been brought for him, and the juices too, before he was ready to leave.
He followed Renethera out of his suite and to the temple entrance. The courtyard in front of the temple was overcrowded with the press of bodies come to offer sacrifices to him.
Devotion swirled through the air, a heady perfume. The people began pressing their faces to the ground.
“Don’t mind them.” Renethera instructed as he hesitated. “If you stay to Bless them all you will have time for nothing else and will be overwhelmed as you were last night.”
He nodded and started to press forward before his attention was drawn to a knot of children and adults. The children were all clearly quite sickly.
The pressure to act hit him like a ton of bricks dropped onto his shoulders. Torric cut a path through kneeling bodies, coming to sit among the children without care for the fact that he was in expensive priest’s robes and they were in threadbare clothing of slaves. The children who could crawled into his lap and pressed against him. Those too sick to come to him he went to himself.
Blessing of the Cherished Child
Channel Bahumet’s grace to heal wounds, cure diseases, calm fears, and fill the recipient with warmth and joy. Removes all harmful status effects and debuffs, bolsters resilience against fear, and grants a small permanent boost to Vitality and Spirit when used on children. It also shields them from detection by hostile spirits and curses until they come of age. May be invoked outside combat to sanctify nurseries, apply protection wards, or inspire courage in the young.
Golden light, soft, steady, flowed from his hands. Breath eased. Color crept back into wan cheeks. Tremors stilled. Fever heat bled away under a cool, golden hush. His Blessing touched them all, curing their illnesses, healing their wounds, and revitalizing their minds and bodies.
When he left them the children were happily playing with each other while their parents cried tears of joy and relief.
“I had to stop.” He explained to his guardian as they pressed onward. “It was almost like a compulsion. It would have hurt me to ignore them.”
“And that is the burden of devotion. The more you act the more you will gain and the more you gain the more you will feel compelled to act.”
Torric grimaced. “So it’s a trap of cosmic control.”
“Devotion is no trap. You have been swept up into the current of the river of life,” she corrected. “Swim with it and it carries you. Fight it and it drowns you. You must learn to steer.”
“How?”
“First: vows. You cannot answer every prayer. Choose three priorities that bind your power and quiet the rest to a murmur.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “For example, children in immediate danger, the prayers of those in chains, and to give succor to the victims of oaths broken by the powerful. Anything outside those three vows, you gather their prayers but rarely answer.”
“That… already feels like a betrayal of their devotion.”
“It is a boundary,” Renethera said, gentler now. “A god who tries to be everywhere and everything to everyone becomes nowhere and nothing to no one, burning out and dying while saving no one.”
They turned down a tree shaded colonnade. A breeze carried the scent of bread and incense upon it, and beneath it came the prickle of thousands of small hopes and prayers brushing his skin.
“Second,” she continued, “we build you filters. A sigil at your shrine will take the clamor of thousands and sort it into your vows. What matches your vows will reach you as clear as a clear bell; what does not becomes a single, steady hum. You will feel it, but it will not spear you. It will not compel you to act.”
“And third?”
“Delegation. Priests and sworn agents who can carry your benedictions to the masses. You pour a thimble of power into a hundred cups to stave off the thirst of thousands instead of drowning one man at a time with a river. Mercy scales, Torric.”
He nodded, swallowing. “I’ll try to remember that.”
“You will practice,” she said, and jabbed two fingers against his sternum. “Breathe. Inhale the current; on the exhale, name it. ‘Child. Chain. Oath.’ Let the rest slide to the edges.”
He obeyed. The pressure of the belief of thousands softened. Three clear threads gleamed in his mind; urgent, bright, simple. The rest became background noise.
Renethera smiled. “Better. We’ll etch your shrine filter tonight. Until then: if the pull of need spikes, touch upon your vow, and the compulsion will ease. Your power knows what to do without your direct intervention. Let it flow out of you to the intended vessels.”
“Thank you,” he told her earnestly
“Do not thank me for my instruction,” she answered. “Use it.”
They were stopped many times as they walked from people offering tokens of devotion in the form of gifts and money as they walked. Finally they reached Renethera’s intended destination, a store that specialized in the exclusive sale of Skill tomes.
The owner of the store was a plump and friendly woman by the name of Kethra who had apparently been expecting them. She locked the door to the shop behind him to prevent anyone else from entering behind them. Renethera explained that she had arranged for them to have the entire store to themselves for their ‘shopping.’
Could hell it even call it shopping if he was being given every item free of charge?
Renethera led him through the store, handing him tome after tome, instructing him to absorb the knowledge of each Skill then and there. By the time they were finished his mind, and soul, felt like they were full to overflowing.
“Young master, Kethra has two children. She has so generously offered quite the act of devotion to you.” His guardian and mentor said pointedly, indicating the woman who had been helping them. He knew what she wanted without her needing to say more.
“Please, madam, present your children to me.” He told her kindly. He was supposed to call the people he interacted with ‘child’ but it felt weird to call someone who was decades his senior, more than likely old enough to be his birth mother by ‘child.’
The shop owner nodded and retrieved a boy and a girl from upstairs. The boy looked to be about 8, the girl 12. He put his hand on each child’s head, imbuing them with his magic and applying the Blessing of the Cherished Child to them. They smiled up at him, thanking him gravely for his Blessing, their mother thanking him as well.
“It is but the least I could do for you, madam.” He told her. “After you contributed so much to my development and education. I’ll be sure to remember your shop in the future if I have need again.”
Once they were finished with Kethra they took to the air, much to the awe of those who saw them spread their wings and leap skyward. The distance to their next destination was far enough that if they had walked there it would have taken a few hours, and that was without being stopped every few minutes from someone offering devotion or seeking a Blessing.
They touched down before a vast complex of stone and glass, the main building rising like a fortress amid a campus of smaller halls and training grounds. Acres of green stretched within the embrace of a high brick wall, its gates flanked by banners bearing the university’s crest.
“Welcome to the Solvarys University of Dungeoneering.” She told him, gesturing grandly to the building behind her. “The most preeminent university in Solstheen focused solely on preparing young rankers to conquer the dungeons of the universe, winning fame and glory from their homeland and earning buckets of money doing it.”
"And they’ll really accept me… just because I want to come here?” he asked, unable to keep the thread of anxiety from his voice as he stared up at the towering façade. The place radiated history and prestige; he felt small beneath it.
“Child,” Renethera said dryly, “they’ll be doing cartwheels down the hallway in celebration the moment you leave the dean’s office.”
The image popped into his head unbidden; stern, dignified professors in flowing robes somersaulting down august corridors while students gawked. He snorted before he could stop himself, the absurdity cutting through his nerves.
She led him inside the sprawling building. Most of the halls were empty, but the few people they passed bowed before them then huddled together with hushed whispers of excitement in their wake.
Renethera stopped at a door that was marked as belonging to the headmaster of the university. Listorn Pendlehammer. He called for them to enter, but clearly hadn’t expected it to be them on the other side of the door, for he shot to his feet, giving the two fingered salute that Torric had begun to grow used to seeing.
“Eminences! I did not expect your arrival. Forgive me for not being prepared. Shall I summon refreshments for you?”
“A light wine. White. Chilled” Renethera replied without hesitation. “Three glasses, you’ll want one as well. You received the notice from the temple?”
“Yes, of course! I just hadn’t expected you to come in person to discuss matters. Please wait one moment while I send for the wine.”
They waited for him to send the System message to whoever would be bringing their wine. The headmaster folded his hands together on the desk. “How may I serve you.”
“My ward wishes to become a diver. While I could train him myself I feel it is better for his social development to be among peers his own age and Grade. I advised him to join a university, he agreed. I selected Solvarys for him to attend.”
“I am honored that you would select us for his eminence’s education. I do not need to see his status, I am sure it more than meets the standards of this institution, but may I inquire as to the nature of his Class so that we might better know which classes to place him in?”
“I am a melee fighter. Or I will be, at least.” Torric answered with a smile. “I don’t actually have any combat training at all. My circumstances are…unique. But my Class is based around fighting, primarily with my claws. Technically I can tank with it, but I would prefer not to, or at least not immediately.”
The headmaster nodded. “We’ll start you in the advanced class for dungeon training, advanced as in for talented students, not difficulty level or experience.” He added at the trepidation on Torric’s face. “Then we have a specific class for combat training with students who fight unarmed. Many of our beastkin students are in it. A class for aerial combat. Most students participate in four classes and a club. You could choose any number of classes for your final class, and I can provide you with a list of our student clubs, though you are not required to join one. For your fourth class we typically advise our students to select one that they might find interesting. Alchemy, runecrafting, enchanting, something along those lines.”
“Do you have healing classes? I know my Class isn’t geared towards healing, but I have healing magic affinity and I want to be able to heal even if that isn’t my dedicated role inside the dungeon. Most of my Blessings involve healing in some form, for instance.”
“Yes we can put you in the healing class for your fourth.” The headmaster agreed immediately. “Trained healers are highly valued and always in demand, even if you don’t wish to be a dungeon healer. Typically our students live on campus in the dorms but we would not dream of forcing you to abide by that.”
“I want to stay in the dorms.” Torric interrupted. “It sounds fun. And it’ll help me get to know my fellow students.”
“Then of course you’ll stay in the dorms.” Listorn immediately conceded. “When would you like to begin? The term has already started but I don’t expect you to begin immediately. And I am more than happy to arrange tutors for you to help you catch up with what you have missed so far.”
“I would appreciate the tutor, headmaster. And I’d like to begin as soon as possible.”
“I will be staying on campus as well.” Renethera told him. “Not in the dorms. I require my own room. I will be taking control of the security of the campus while my charge is a student, but I won’t be shadowing him throughout his day. I will, however, be monitoring his status throughout the day, and I will be acting as his escort whenever he enters the dungeon for training. You don’t need to pay me, however. His eminence will be getting his own room. He will be allowed a personal servant. His meals will be specifically prepared using offerings of devotion made to him and only offerings of devotion. They will be prepared specifically for him by a chef with a cooking class. This chef must be specifically approved by me before he will be allowed to cook for my charge.”
“Of course, all of those arrangements will be made. I can have his eminence’s dorm room ready by the time dinner is finished at the latest, assuming you wish to dine in the cafeteria with the other students tonight. And we always keep guest rooms prepared for important visitors, you can move into your own rooms immediately, your eminence.” He said the last to Renethera directly. “We do have a school uniform, but you will not be required to wear it unless you wish to.”
“I want to. However adjustments will likely need to be made to account for my wings.”
“We can have your uniforms tailored for your wings immediately, eminence.” The headmaster promised swiftly.
“I have time to take care of that today, if you do.” Torric told him, giving a questioning look to Renethera, who nodded ever so slightly. “Maybe you can get a student to show me around the campus and introduce me to my teachers while you and Renethera finish making arrangements?”
“That is acceptable.” Renethera gave her permission.
“I’ll summon the student president for the first years.” The headmaster promised.
The ordered wine arrived ahead of the student who was supposed to act as his guide around campus did, and he sipped on it while explaining his current level of education. For general basics he had a good amount covered and wouldn’t need much tutoring at all in order to catch up to Solstheen’s standards.
The student who appeared to play tour guide made Torric immediately start drooling on the inside. Rakish good looks, tousled blonde hair, sexy, piercing blue eyes and a smile that was to die for. His eyes widened when he realized who exactly was in the room when he had been summoned by the headmaster.
“Liam, this is his eminence, Lord Veythari. He is starting as a first year-”
“Tomorrow.” Torric interrupted with what he hoped was a charming, flirtatious smile, “But I’m moving into the dorms tonight.”
His smile must have worked for the other student, Liam, flushed, his pupils dilating ever so slightly. His plethora of new senses told him that this Liam was more than interested in that way.
“As his eminence said, he is starting tomorrow.” The headmaster continued. “I would like you to give him a thorough tour of the campus while I finish making arrangements with his guardian. He’s going to be in Dungeoneering 101 Class A, Aerial Combat 101, Unarmed Combat 101, and Basic Combat Healing. He’s also interested in joining a school club, if you would be willing to introduce him around. And I do mean introduce him around, no stealing him immediately for your club.”
“Of course, headmaster. Eminence if you would be willing to follow me.” Liam replied.
Torric finished his wine, leaving the glass on the headmaster’s desk, following the very attractive elf out of the room.
“So your name is Liam? That doesn’t sound very elf-y.”
“My full name is Liamarillus, eminence.”
“Please call me Torric. If I am ‘eminenced’ by everyone all day it is going to get irritating.”
The other elf gave him a startled look. “Are you sure? Many would consider that overly familiar, even for someone of my station.”
Torric stood up on his tip toes, pulling the elven man’s head down until it was even with his. “Call. Me. Torric.” He told him, then channeled the attitude of his primary teacher in bedroom games from his time in the orphanage and seductively traced the outer edge of his ear with his tongue. “And if you please me enough I’ll give you a reward.”
He could hear the other man’s heart thundering in his chest, smell the surge of arousal pouring out of his body. Torric released his head, straightening Liam’s uniform jacket and brushing imaginary lint from his chest.
For his part, Torric’s heart thundered as well, not from the salty yet sweet taste of Liam’s skin, but from the audacity of making the first move. He’d been trained for meekness, taught that initiative belonged to others, never to him. Being the aggressor was wrong, dangerous… thrilling. The fear in his chest tangled with a rush of heat low in his belly. Part of him wanted to press harder, see how far Liam would let him go, yet another part ached for Liam to push back, seize control, and show him how far he would take it.
“As you command…Torric.” Liam’s voice caressed his name, spoke it with the reverence of a prayer and the burning heat of desire.
They continued down the luxurious but tastefully decorated halls of the university, Liam showing him the library and introducing him the to librarians on staff, then the student shop where he could find school supplies, Skill tomes, Spell books, drinks and snacks, toiletries, and other odds and ends.
He asked Liam what his favorite drink was in the store, as well as one to recommend for him. He took one bottle of each from the store, not bothering to pay, even though his insides were screaming at him that he was about to get arrested for theft. The store employees, however, did not make a single move to stop him.
There were more students around the store as they left, all of them staring at them as the two left with their drinks.
Liam opened his own bottle of a sweet cream based drink that was apparently flavored not just with cherries, but cherry blossoms, taking a sip out of it while watching Torric as he tasted his own drink.
It was a juice made from two different melons mixed with the juices of something called a cucumber. Torric quite enjoyed the melon drink that had been recommended to him. It was sweet and refreshing with just a hint of crispness.
With a sly grin, Torric plucked the bottle from Liam’s hand, their fingers brushing for the briefest instant. He took a slow sip, the sweetness of cherries and cream with a faint floral edge of blossoms coating his tongue. Lowering the bottle, he ran his tongue across his lips deliberately, seductively, locking eyes with Liam as he did so.
“Delicious,” he purred, handing it back.
A flush crept up the blonde’s neck, coloring his ears. Around them, whispers rippled through the crowd of watching students. Torric’s enhanced hearing caught the repeated murmur - indirect kiss - each time spoken with the weight of a scandalous and jealous revelation.
“Would you like the rest of it…Torric?” Liam asked, again caressing his name with his mouth.
“Maybe next time I’ll drink it from your lips.” Torric replied, deliberately twisting the flirtatious knife, trying to see how far he could tease the attractive elven man, immensely enjoying not just Liam’s reactions, but the feeling of dangerous rebellion he got from teasing a total stranger.
They continued away from the student store, the gaze of a dozen other students piercing their backs as they left.
“I know you aren’t from here…” Liam began hesitantly once they were alone. “But if you keep acting like that where people can see you they’ll think that we are together in that way.”
“Does the notion offend you?” Torric asked curiously.
“No, no, no. I am quite flattered. And very, very interested if this isn’t a game. I just need to know if this is just a game or if the interest is genuine. I don’t want to get my hopes up…”
Torric pushed the much taller elf against the wall, wrapping one hand around the back of his neck and pulling his head down even with his.
“It is a game.” He purred. “But I hunt with intent.”
He ran his tongue across Liam’s lower lip in silent request. His lips parted, breath hot and quick.Torric’s tongue slid into his mouth, exploring him, tasting him. They were still kissing when a bell sounded and doors throughout the corridor opened, releasing students into the hall.
Students that all stopped in shock at the vision of a strange Luminari clearly being the aggressor in a kiss with their student president that was far from chaste.
Torric released him, Liam sagging against the wall, breathing ragged. He grinned wickedly at the breathless man, who looked like he had been run over by a charging herd of out of control bulls. “Shall we continue our tour? I’m quite curious to see the rest of campus and meet my new teachers.”
“Yes.” The elf answered weakly. “I just need a moment…”
“Take all the time you need.” Torric replied, merriment dancing in his eyes.
A pair of burly elves pushed their way through the crowd, having clearly missed seeing the kiss, but not the weak condition of the man who was kissed. The genuflected to Torric before turning their attention to Liam, who was still leaning against the wall, face flushed, breathing hard.
“Your highness, are you well?” One of the two asked.
Highness? Torric blinked in surprise.
“Liam, are you a prince?” He asked.
“Yes.” He answered. “I thought you knew?”
“No. The headmaster just said you were the student president for the first years.”
“Are you upset?” The prince asked with trepidation.
“I might not have teased you so publicly if I had known you were a prince.” He replied with a wry grin.
“Did we miss something?” The other elf asked, looking back and forth between Torric and his prince, brow furrowed.
“I kissed him. We were caught.” Torric answered, gesturing to the hallway full of silent staring students.
A ripple of sound moved through the hall, whispers swelling into a low roar. Torric caught fragments with his sharpened hearing.
“the prince?”
“..with a Luminari!?”
“Together?”
“I’m going to die, that was so hot!”
Threads of scandal, curiosity, and more than a few notes of envy. Some of the students bowed low as Torric’s gaze passed over them, others simply stared as if committing every detail to memory for later retelling.
The two who were undoubtedly Liam’s guards shifted uneasily, their eyes flicking between their prince and the gathered crowd. “We should move, Your Highness,” one murmured.
Torric could feel the weight of eyes on his back, the intensity of the gazes, some tinged with awe, others brimming with speculation. He’d lived most of his life invisible, beneath notice. Now? One kiss, and he was the center of an entirely different kind of attention.
“Come on,” Torric said lightly, looping an arm through Liam’s and starting forward. “If they’re going to gossip, let’s give them something to talk about.”
Liam’s startled laugh earned them another fresh wave of whispers as the crowd of students parted before them so they could continue on their way. Torric didn’t need to see the future to know that by dinner, every student on campus would have heard about the Luminari who kissed their prince in the hallway.
He was introduced to each of his teachers in turn, every one of them clearly delighted to hear that Torric would be joining their classes. From there, Liam led him through the buildings where practical lessons were held: open-air arenas for both magical and mundane combat training, a sleek gym for physical conditioning, a sprawling building for magical study and experimentation with plenty of alchemy labs and enchanting workshops. There was a forge big enough to shoe a dragon, herb gardens for culinary use, meticulously tended beds of magical plants for potions and spells, and even an ornamental garden for students to stroll or lounge in.
Torric toured the campus with his arm hooked comfortably through the prince’s, pretending not to notice the stares and murmured speculation that followed them like a tide.
The facilities were genuinely impressive, but the real thrill came from the opportunities between stops, using his domivayn training to flirt with and shamelessly tease the elven prince. Stolen kisses in quiet stairwells, lingering touches in empty halls. A palm sliding over the curve of Liam’s ass when they paused to speak with a teacher, an occasional pinch that made the prince’s breath catch.
The prince’s reactions were as intoxicating as the touches themselves, and the heady novelty of being the aggressor kept Torric’s blood thrumming. Every brush of lips or hand was rebellion made flesh, a strike against the years he’d been taught to wait, to submit. His body ached with the building tension, wound tight enough to snap at the slightest push.
By the time they returned to the headmaster’s office, he was almost buzzing with pent-up energy. Renethera took one look at him and smirked, clearly reading both the cause and the condition in an instant.
“You look like you had fun,” she said.
“I did,” Torric replied smoothly. “The campus is amazing. His Majesty was an excellent host. I quite enjoyed my time with him.”
The celestial’s gaze flicked to the prince beside him, her smile sharpening. “I just bet you did. The arrangements for your education are complete. Your tour took longer than expected.”
“It was very thorough,” Torric said, all wide-eyed innocence. “Though I do find myself a bit tired. If my dorm room isn’t ready, perhaps His Majesty would be willing to lend me his bed to rest in.”
“Yes!” the prince blurted before clearing his throat and recovering some regal dignity. “I would, of course, be honored to offer my bed to His Eminence.”
“Yes,” Torric agreed, the corner of his mouth quirking. “To rest.”
“Clearly,” Renethera replied, her tone dry as a desert. “I’m sure you’ll get plenty of rest in the prince’s room.”
“Your dorm room should be ready now. His majesty will be able to take you, it is directly across from his, assuming her eminence finds this acceptable?”
“It’s fine. Let the children play together until dinner. The prince will join us so I can impress upon him the responsibilities of being my ward’s…. Friend.” The word was fraught with deeper meaning.
Liam swallowed hard. “Of course, eminence.”
Torric took him by the hand, tugging him out of the room. “Take me to the dorms.” He instructed once they were in the hallway.
Liam did as he was told, taking him back to the dorms meant for first year students. The buildings were not separated by gender, but by year, though the individual bedrooms within each dorm were not coed.
His room was on the top floor, a floor that was apparently reserved for the highest echelons of Solstheen’s society. The room was definitely bigger on the inside than was possible based on the size of the building. It was even bigger than his suite at the temple of Bahumet. Ordinarily he would be instantly exploring the space. Right now he didn’t care.
He dragged the prince’s head down to his, kissing him deeply. “I want to have sex with you.” He told the elven man, breaking the kiss. “And I can assure you, I am very, very good in bed. Have you heard my origin?”
“You were a bedslave.”
“Yes. The way I was trained… it will be very very pleasurable for you, but I will be incapable of reaching my own peak without your direct permission. If you don’t give me permission I am physically incapable of relieving myself within your presence, no matter how enjoyable I find the act. Once I undress you will be in full control of what we do, how we do it, how long we do it, what you do to me. I will be incapable of denying you anything you desire in bed. This is not hyperbole or exaggeration. You will have complete control of me. I am trusting you not to abuse the situation.”
“I won’t.” The prince swore.
“The other thing… have you ever been with someone with wings before?”
“No.”
“My wings are very sensitive. Depending on how you handle them it will be…incredibly pleasurable for me. Helping me groom them is tantamount to foreplay. I don’t know if that is like that for all celestial tigers, but it’s that way for me. While it can be easy to inflict pain depending on how you handle my wings, it is pretty hard to actually damage them.”
A faint smile tugged at Liam’s lips. “Sounds like I’ll need a lesson.”
“Maybe,” Torric replied, stepping away from the prince. “If you’re a good student.” He untied the laces of the ecclesiastical robes he wore, dropping the heavy silk garment to the ground.
The prince’s composure was fraying; Torric could see it in the way his pupils had widened, in the slight tremor of anticipation in his hands. “And if I’m not?” Liam asked, his voice softer now, the question a challenge, not doubt.
Torric tilted his head, letting the slow curve of a smile answer for him. “Then you’ll just have to work harder to earn your reward.” His hand brushed against Liam’s sleeve, trailing down until their fingers almost touched.
The air between them felt taut, a living thing, humming with the weight of everything unspoken. Torric leaned in just a fraction, close enough for his breath to stir the prince’s hair. He could feel the tension straining toward the inevitable, could feel the same pull in himself, sharp and urgent.
“Tell me, your highness.” Torric began, stepping closer to the prince. “Have you ever dreamed of having a god for a sex slave?”
“That would be blasphemy…”
A wicked smile spread across his lips. “Let me show you how good it feels to sin.”
Chapter 6
Notes:
Alright my horny friends, the promised sex scene. This was all done entirely on my phone so editing is a lot harder than on a computer. Forgive any errors in formatting and what not.
Chapter Text
Torric dropped down to his knees in front of the prince, unbuttoning the front of his tailored trousers not with his hands but nothing but his tongue and teeth, smoothly sliding the woolen fabric down his long, muscular legs, taking his underwear with it.
His hands lightly traced up the prince’s outer thighs, caressing the gentle swell of his ass.
He kissed his way up the prince’s inner thigh, starting at the knee and working his way upwards. Liam’s cock was already hard as it bobbed in the air in front of his face.
Torric lifted his cock just enough for his tongue to easily reach the base of his shaft, running it up his length to his tip, the wet line of his saliva glistening on his skin as his tongue danced across swollen, fevered flesh.
The prince shivered and Torric paused, mouth millimeters from his body, hot breath teasing over his skin, drawing out the moment. Then he welcomed just the tip of him, lips sealing, tongue circling in a practiced spiral that drew a moan from deep in the prince’s throat.
Torric smiled around it and took a little more, eyes up, holding his gaze as he set the rhythm ; slow, controlled, a lesson in patience. A teasing dance of exquisite agony. His head traveling down his shaft in a long, steady claim then back again with a careful drag that left nerves singing, his cock almost breaking free of the velvet prison of his lips.
Almost.
Then he was going deeper again, swallowing his cock whole, his tongue diving into the slit at the center of his swollen head, chasing the first salty drop of precum that oozed from its depths.
Torric sighed in his own pleasure at the taste, the first drop of many. The first taste of many, the first drop of rain that would soon become a flood of passion.
He looked up at the prince, eyes boring into his as he slowly devoured his cock, taking the throbbing member to its hilt and sucking, tongue massaging the underside of his shaft, increasing the pressure of his suction as he slowly withdrew, centimeter by centimeter, dragging out the sensation.
When he had his prince fully trapped within his heated gaze, Torric swallowed, the motion coaxing another helpless sound from the elven prince’s throat. Low and full of need.
One hand steadied his prince, caressing the small of the back; the other cradled between his legs, stroking his balls. A hum vibrated through his throat, a soft cruelty, but oh so sweet before he eased away with a measured breath and continued the slow climb up the twisting path of pleasure to glory.
He knew he had Liam firmly under his spell when the prince’s hands gripped either side of his head, forcing his head down, and then back up at a faster pace, thrusting deep into his throat with a moan.
Torric let him take control, loosening his jaw, adjusting his angle just so, allowing the rhythm’s tempo to go faster, to let the prince go deeper, until it was no longer an act of oral worship but a frenzied face fucking.
All at once Liam’s voice fractured and his knees nearly buckled, his hot seed pouring down Torric’s throat in a steady stream. The former slave drank down every drop with glee, supporting his body as he came, taking everything he gave, swallowing greedily, not releasing him until the shuddering of the prince’s body ran its course. Only then did he ease back by a breath, lips curved in self satisfied triumph.
“That was… wow.” Liam finally spoke, breaking the silence that had grown between them.
“That was just the foreplay my lord. Unless you would prefer to stop without sampling my body?” His tone was teasing, seductive. They both knew that the prince would not be calling a halt to their game any time soon.
“And I can do anything I want to you?”
“It is conceivable that you would undertake an action that I would find objectionable and would make you stop, though unlikely. I don’t know what it would be, but it is possible. That said there is a great deal that you could do to me that I would not stop, and might even enjoy in the right context, that will absolutely get your cock ripped off and shoved down your throat so far you’ll suffocate to death by my guardian.”
“Sooooo yes, within reason?”
Torric smiled. “Yes. Within reason. Just try to stick with things that won’t require a trip to a healer afterwards if you wish to keep all your body parts where they belong and not discover the intricacies of life as an amputee courtesy of an overprotective celestial dragon.”
“Help me undress. The rest of the way.” Liam commanded.”
Torric slid the jacket from his body, then slid his hands under the prince’s dress shirt, eyes closing in his own bliss as they ran over his toned chest.
He carefully unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the sexy expanse of his chest and abs. Torric desperately wanted to trace the paths carved into his stomach with his tongue, but he was no longer in control of the situation.
“Up.” His prince commanded,” opening his arms.
Torric leapt into them without hesitation, jumping into his arms, legs wrapped around his waist, arms thrown around his neck, wings flared out behind him for balance.
The prince crossed the room in a few strides, slamming his back against the wall, using it to pin Torric to it.
This time it was the prince’s turn to act as the aggressor, devouring his lips, his mouth. Hungrily plundering his mouth.
Torric moaned, the sound low and full of need.
The prince broke the kiss, nipping at his lower lip. “You taste so sweet.” He murmured, reverent gaze sweeping over his face.
He kissed his way up Torric’s slender throat, lips finding his ear, teeth set against his earlobe. Torric moaned, the sound growing louder and more passionate the harder the prince bit down.
Abruptly the prince released him, sending a shiver down Torric’s spine.
“You like pain?” He asked him, sounding surprised.
“Depends on the pain and location and person inflicting it.”
The prince’s mouth found Torric’s throat; teeth tested tender skin. Torric’s breath hitched and his body went soft, held up only by the wall and Liam’s arms. If he hadn’t been pinned, he would have folded at the knees from the sweet, biting pain.
“You definitely liked that.” Liam murmured, wicked delight lacing his voice.
Torric nodded dumbly, brain still short circuited from the bite.
The prince carried him to the bed, laying him upon it on his back, wings fanned across the large bed.
Liam straddled his waist, looking down at the man underneath him with possession, avarice, and desire. It was a heady bouquet for the slave trained celestial, making his pulse stutter.
The prince’s hands caressed his chest, finding his hard pink nipples and pinching them between forefinger and thumb then twisting.
Torric threw his head back, eyes shut, and moaning. Fingers were replaced by a hot mouth and a wet tongue that swirled over his nipples. Teeth that nipped at his flesh, biting down and rolling the sensitive nub between them. Slowly teasing licks traced glistening saliva across his skin, every pass drawing a new shudder or gasp.
The sensations drove him wild, low urgent noises of need escaping his throat as Liam mapped his body with hands, tongue and teeth.
His prince was not going to make it so easy on him. He explored Torric’s body with kisses, nipping bites and eager caressing hands. His tongue traced over his skin as the prince found every spot that made him sigh and moan or gasp with pleasure, whole body tightening and beneath him.
The prince never touched his rock hard and aching cock, standing at full mast from his groin, the need to be touched there, caressed, overwhelming.
“Please…” he whimpered.
“Please what?”
“I need you so much it hurts.”
“Then you will have to remain in sweet agony.” The elven man promised him, mouth crushing against his once more, kissing him so roughly that all thoughts blurred and he was one aching ball of want and need.
Torric whimpered, eyes fluttering.
“On your belly. Spread your wings out.” He commanded.
Torric did as he was told, the prince straddling his ass. He squirmed beneath him, the drive to have the prince take him then and there overwhelming.
He gasped when gentle hands traced the outer edge of his lowest set of wings. He froze, breath held as unfamiliar hands stroked across so sensitive feathers
The touch grew more confident as Torric reacted so positively beneath the prince’s hands. Fingers brushing his coverts. He groaned and writhed underneath the prince as he stroked the curve of his wings where they connected to his spine.
“Tell me what you want.” The prince commanded, voice dark and sultry. Velvet over steel. He gasped when the prince’s hand wrapped around the base of his tail, squeezing tight and pulling back
”Oh gods please fuck me.” He moaned. “I need you inside me.” He begged.
Liam stroked his tail in a strong sure grip and he writhed beneath him.
“Please.” He begged again. “Fuck me. I need you.”
Liam rubbed himself against Torric’s ass, making him whimper. “Please.”
An oil slicked finger rubbed his crack, making him shiver again. “Please.”
“Gods I love hearing you beg.” Liam groaned. His finger teased along the rim of Torric's asshole, making him wriggle.
“Please Liam, I need you.”
His oiled finger slipped inside him, Torric’s eyes squeezed shut as he gasped a blissful inhale, Liam’s finger working inside him while the other gripped the base of his tail, stroking it like a cock.
Torric’s breathing sped up as he squirmed on the bed. He should be the one pleasing the prince, but he was captive beneath him, need rippling through his body as the prince teased him and not the other way around.
A second finger slid inside him and Torric moaned louder, the two fingers working across that sweet spot inside him.
The sheet beneath him began to grow slick with his precum as he rubbed ground his hips into the bed, seeking some kind of stimulation. Any kind.
The fingers disappeared from his ass and Torric cried out not from pleasure but in complaint until something larger, more solid replaced them, a heavy weight at the entrance of his ass. Torric pushed back, attempting to spear himself on the other man’s cock in his eagerness.
He shouldn’t be doing this shouldn’t be so aggressive, begging to be fucked, trying to force himself onto the prince’s cock. He couldn’t stop himself. Training be damned.
The prince felt so good. And he felt so good. The sensation of pure worship driving into his body that his prince was generating while he teased him was as stimulating and maddening as the sensations Liam himself was drawing out of him with his hands.
The head of his cock slowly pushed inside him
“Yesssssss.” Torric hissed, reveling in the feeling of his ass being filled by the prince.
Liam stopped when he was fully inside him, holding his position while Torric ground against him, moaning.
The prince’s hands wrapped around each hip, gripping them tightly, using them as anchor points as he thrust into him.
Devotion surged into him as the elven prince rammed his cock hard into his depths, sweet worship plundering his soul as thoroughly as the cock in his ass.
Torric slammed backwards with every thrust of Liam’s cock, the sound of their bodies meeting ringing through the air, a rhythmic beat to the sweet melody of Torric’s moans, sighs and gasps.
Liam’s hands shifted upwards, gripping the base of his lowest set of wings, using them to propel him onward as he had used Torric’s hips.
Torric’s groin tightened the moment the prince’s hands wrapped around him and pulled. Only years of training kept him from cumming then and there.
“Oh fuck,” he whimpered, too lost in the moment to moan, to scream.
“What was that, slave?” Liam purred dangerously, yanking hard on his wings as he thrust sharply.
The denigration made his knees grow weak.
The prince’s accompanying tidal wave of lust, desire for Torric’s body, the prince’s secret thrill at treating a Lumainari so disrespectfully, and pure worship crashing over him in an intoxicating destructive wave that left his body shaking and orgasmic pleasure coursing through him.
Precum flowed freely from his cock, slicking his groin and staining the linens beneath him.
“Harder.” He breathed.
Liam’s hamd released his wing and wrapped in his hair, yanking his head back sharply. “What was that?” He growled. “Slaves don’t make demands.”
“Oh gods.” Torric breathed faintly, ready to burst. Body ached to cum, cock swollen and slick with need. “Harder, please. Oh please. Fuck me. Ruin me.”
Liam yanked savagely on the base of his wings using the leverage, dominant position, and larger body to pound into him, grunting with every thrust. Torric met him thrust for thrust, moan for moan, grunt for grunt.
The moans slowly morphed into his own kind of prayer as the need for release built to a fever pitch.
“Fuck me.” He breathed.
“Use me.” He pleaded.
“Break me.” He moaned.
“Own me.” He whimpered
The eight words became his mantra.
Fuck me. Use me. Break me. Own me.
The prayer of need and desire to prolong the sweet agony where orgasmic pleasure met divine worship and the need to feel utterly owned and dominated.
Liam yanked his hair one more time, pulling his head back until his lips were even with his ear.
“Who do you belong to?” He demanded dangerously.
“You.” Torric moaned.
“Who’s your master?”
“Youuu.”
“Say it.”
“My master.”
He thrust full strength into his ass.
“Say it again!”
“Master!” Torric shouted.
Liam thrust into him again, one hand wrapped around his throat, squeezing hard, the other roughly squeezing the most sensitive part of his upper most set of wings, just where the curve started.
“Cum for me!” The prince commanded, “I want to hear my name on your lips.”
“LIAM!” He screamed, the dam inside him bursting as the prince’s hand on his throat tightened.
Hot, sticky cum shot from his swollen cock in a steady stream, orgasmic pleasure surging through his body in a raging tsunami of need, lust, devotion and the joined pleasure of their shared orgasm, auras merging for a shining moment and Liam began unloading in his ass.
Torric collapsed flat on his face into the mattress as Liam’s hand released his throat, his whole body a quivering mess, chest heaving as he floated on a sea of post orgasmic glow.
Liam fell backwards onto the bed into the small amount of space not taken up by Torric’s sprawling wings.
Torric lifted one side of his wings in the air. “Cuddle?” He invited.
The prince did not need a second invitation. He cuddled up against Torric’s body, half laying against his back, face nuzzling the nape of his neck.
Torric draped his wing over the other man, making him stiffen and freeze.
“Relax.” Torric told him. “You won't hurt them. Unless you don’t like the feeling?”
“No. It's like a soft warm blanket and a whole body hug all at once.”
Torric knew the prince couldn’t see his smile since he was facing away from him, but he smiled nonetheless, then let out a very satisfied and content sigh.
“Is something wrong?” Liam asked.
“No, quite the opposite. That was incredible. Not just the sex. But I could feel your emotions. Could feed on how turned on you were and how much you worship me as a Lumimari. That was easily the best sex I’ve had in my life. And not just because it was my first time having sex as a free man.”
The prince kissed the back of his neck, one arm sliding over Torric’s back under his wings. “I am happy to oblige whenever you want.”
“A dangerous offer. Maybe I’ll creep into your bed every might and fuck you all night every night until you collapse from sheer exhaustion. Like the stories of incubi of old from Praetoria.” Torric teased.
“You aren’t upset about the slave-master part?”
Torric laughed. “It was very sexy. Especially because it isn't true. We both know if I wanted you to be my slave you would.”
“In a heartbeat. Though perhaps not publicly. I am a prince, even if I’m not the heir.”
“No promises.” Torric teased. “I wouldn’t mind…. ‘resting’ together again, though.”
“Whenever, wherever, however.” Liam quickly promised.
“First you have to survive Renethera.”
Liam groaned. “Don’t remind me. My father would not save me from her eminence if she decided I was unworthy of you. Nor would the high queen of Solsetheen. Or their imperial majesties who rule all us all and our sister worlds.”
“I think you’ll be fine. She really wants me to get the whole school boy experience. Remember, she said something along the lines of letting the children play in the headmaster’s office. How old is she, anyway?”
“No idea. But she’s lived on Solstheen for the last 500 years or so. If I ask her age she’ll probably squash me like a bug. You she’ll probably answer. The two celestial races that are the smallest population wise are the tigers and the dragons. Finding you is a big deal for a lot of people. She will treat you like a beloved orphan child. From her perspective you are a child. Kind of.
The old ones get weird about age. In some things they’ll treat you an adult, like she’d see nothing wrong with fucking you. Most of them wouldn’t since you consider yourself an adult and the society you grew up in considered you an adult.
In most things,however, and especially when it comes to your safety, they’ll still treat you like a child. You’ll be allowed to exert your independence and offer your opinion, even make mistakes, but they’ll see it as a young child taking his first steps.
Threats to your emotional well being will be treated with just as much ferocity as if I tried to maim your body.
And while the other Luminari would approve of me or someone else close to your age sleeping with you, they absolutely will murder people they thong would be inappropriate. Her eminence, Renethera, is known to be particularly quick to kill and maim in a fit of rage.
They, and she, will draw the line at predation. People within a few hundred years of you in age she’ll be fine with romancing you. Past that it gets real iffy for the safety of your would-be suitors. At least for now.”
“But that’s only for non Luminari?”
“Pretty much. The old ones have established entirely different rules for your people than they expect the rest of the world to abide by. As long as you consider yourself an adult there are a lot of things that will be considered fair game amongst themselves that they will absolutely kill outsiders for doing.”
“Very do as I say, not as I do.”
A System ping showed up on his HUD.
If you are done playing with your new toy, I am hungry. Come to the campus guest quarters.
Renethera was clearly done waiting for him to finish his ‘nap’ with the prince.
Let us clean up and we would be happy to join you for a meal.
“My guardian, as she is fond of calling herself, has decided it is time for us to join her for dinner, so let’s have a quick wash up and dress. She scares the shit out of me and I am 95% sure that if we made her wait long enough she’d retrieve me herself.”
“She would.” Liam confirmed.
They used the private bathroom that came as part of his bedroom, it had both a bathtub like he was used to but also the much more unfamiliar rainshower as those of Solstheen called it. Water fell from a pipe in the ceiling like rain that you clean up in. It was actually really convenient with his wings. Way better than a bath that left him waterlogged and his wings heavy. Especially now that he had three sets growing from his back.
His wings were probably heavier than his body was. Though his skin and bones were very tough and naturally resistant to damage, his bones were also all hollow, as he’d come to learn. Most Luminari bones were. It aided their flight speed and maneuverability.
Waterlogged wings were fucking heavy and he had a real risk of drowning if he was left in deep water for more than a few minutes.
These rainshowers were far superior when it came to how much water got trapped between the triple layers of heavy feathers when his wings were folded and tucked tight against his back to not drag on the ground.
“Since you messed them up you get to set my feathers to rights, by the way.” Torric informed the prince with a bravado that was absolutely false.
A slave ordering around a prince? A month ago if he’d done that he would have been flogged. At best. Still, Renethera’s earlier lesson rang in his thoughts. Luminari don’t ask, they command.
“And after you set my wings to rights you’ll set to right what will arise after you fix my feathers.”
“Absolutely.”
They didn’t rush through their rainshower, but they didn't linger either.
Someone had delivered three packages to the front room of his suite while they’d been occupied. One was school uniforms, one was clothing, and the smallest was shoes.
He changed into his new uniform feeling more proud of wearing the university colors and crest than the expensive tailored clothes from Tordil. The uniform meant he belonged somewhere. To something. And not as property, but by choice.
Just like it meant something to him to get to choose to have sex with someone, not just choosing to have sex at all, but who he would fuck as well, and not the person he was assigned to practice with or his teacher, or his master when he’d been about to have one in truth and not pretend. Like what he’d done with Liam
That his first choice had been a prince was an extra special bonus, but not intentional. He’d wanted the prince before he knew he was a prince.
There was a ridiculous number of students crammed into the common room of their dorm, all of whom went dead silent when he appeared, the prince of Solstheen in tow.
He stopped, looking around at the other students. Most of them were elves, but not all of them were Sol'feyran. There was a good number of beastkin as well. A handful of what he assumed to be demons.
“I want to greet you, my fellow classmates. Within these walls I am told that rank is not supposed to matter. I want to embody that ideal while I am here. Of course, her eminence is lurking on campus so I’d be cautious about going overboard. I might not care but she might.
So please, call me Torric. I am not from this world, so I do not know your customs. Please forgive me if I say something insensitive or accidentally inappropriate or do not understand something. This world is very foreign to me and its cultures alien to how I was raised.”
Liam hooked his arm through Torric’s and started dragging him through the common room, a buzz of excitement swelling behind them.
The prince didn’t stop until they made it to the building meant for guests of the university. Renethera was on the top floor in another suite that was bigger on the inside.
A table had been set up with dozens of covered dishes sitting upon it, and three place settings. A man in a servant’s uniform bearing the crest of the university on his breast stood next to the table.
At Renethera’s direction Torric sat at the head of the table, while she sat to his right and Liam sat to his left.
Some of the trays of covered dishes smelled absolutely amazing, others not at all, and some of it was just... meh.
The servant began serving food from specific platters to each of them. He quickly realized the dishes made with food from hisnofferings were what smelled so good and the food made of Renethera’s offerings did not smell appetizing, while Liam’s food smelled bland.
“Did Liam get served intentionally substandard food?” He asked.
“No. His food is of excellent quality and was made by the same team of chefs that made your food, but with normal ingredients. He cannot benefit from sacrificial offerings made to you any more than I can. Or you can benefit from my offerings.”
“I see. Then I won’t complain.”
“While you can eat normal food, you’ll gain far more from sacrificial offerings over mortal fare. And eating offerings meant for other Luminari can actually make you sick.”
“Which is why it smells bad to me?”
“Yes, and why yours smells bad to me. You can eat in the cafeteria if you want, but you will also have permission to eat in the prefect and school officer’s cafeteria as well. I advise you to eat there so that you’ll be disturbed less often during your meals.
She drummed her finger tips on the table as if in thought. “Find an assistant among your classmates to help you adjust and act as a body servant. And body guard. Not that you need protection but because you’ll need someone to keep people from annoying you. I won’t be following you to your classes.
Not the prince. It would reflect poorly upon his majesty to be acting as an assistant. Even as an assistant for a Luminari. I’ve heard you’ve spent the day establishing yourselves as quite close. That is fine for now, and will actually reflect well upon the prince and his family.”
“As for you, boy.” She leveled a steely gaze upon the prince. “There are ground rules for you to be the special….friend of my ward.”
Liam paled slightly and nodded.
“You break his heart, I break yours.”
“Renethera!” Torric growled, outraged. “We aren’t even in a relationship. We’re just scratching an itch.”
“You might be scratching an itch, child. Boy. Is it a mere itch for you?”
Liam shook his head emphatically. “I want to serve his eminence however I may. If he wishes to take his pleasure in my body even better. To imagine a Luminari is taking an interest of any kind in me is beyond anything I could dream of.”
“And how does being a known bedmate of a Luminari benefit you?” Renethera pressed. “Answer fully and honestly. I want my ward to understand this.”
“It will put me in contention for the throne. Strong contention if I prove to be more than a passing dalliance, provided I never publicly fall out of favor with his eminence. It will make me more popular among the nobility, student body, and the common citizenry of Solstheen.
People will be more likely to be nice to me, more than normal considering I am a prince already. Even other royal and noble factions will be hesitant to strike at me while I am a public bedmate of a Luminari.
My parents will likely increase my allowance, and send me gifts as reward for attracting his eminence’s attention. They’ll likely order me to try to get included in his Eminence’s dive team and become a permanent part of his harem.”
“My harem?” Torric asked, feeling strange at the notion. Polygamy was not a new concept to him. It was very common in Praetoria. The notion of him having a harem, however, was not one that he had ever considered.
“Obviously.” Renethera replied as if it was a given. “All Luminari have harems. You will be required to have children by your elders. Already another of our number is out searching for other celestial tigers to come to take over your instruction.”
“You are not my permanent guardian?”
“No. But it may take time to find another tiger. Until then I have taken the responsibility. Urdmoggra and Behumet are long standing allies. If the situation were reversed you would be expected to do as I have and take in the young dragon.
Now how does it feel to know how this boy will benefit from being in your bed?”
“If I had been purchased as his bed slave I would be benefiting from his status in his stead. How is this any different?” He asked philosophically.
“And you, princeling, how do you feel knowing his eminence feels thus about you?”
“I told him however, wherever, any way he wants it. I meant it.” Liam replied earnestly.
“He’s your toy for now, child.” Renethera told him, looking between him and the prince. “But if I think he is going to bite you I will remove the threat. Do you understand?"
“Yes ma’am.” Torric replied meekly.
“Princeling do you understand?”
“Yes, eminence.”
“I will not be following my charge around campus. You will help him find an assistant and make friends. You aren’t allowed to leave the campus with him without my express knowledge and permission for any reason.”
“Yes, Eminence.”
After they finished their meal, during which the prince was incredibly tense, Liam led him out of the guest center and not back to their dorms like he expected, but to the big club building that he had been given a tour through earlier.
He led them to a smaller club room on the 2nd floor, which had several book cases lining the walls of the main room, and two doors leading to secondary rooms that Torric didn't know the uses of.
There were almost a dozen students lounging inside on couches, reading books, and otherwise relaxing. Students that jumped to their feet when they entered, backs of their fingers touching their foreheads as they bowed.
“This is the butler’s club.” Liam introduced. “Everyone here is training to be the best butler they can be for their future master. And not master as in slave. Traditionally they'd expect wages and what not but since you are the one in need…”
“We would never charge his eminence for our service, pardon me for speaking out of turn.” A beastkin growled. He looked like a jackal.
“No need to apologize. And I will 100% be paying wages. How else will you afford to eat and all that?”
“His eminence has been instructed to find an assistant for his time on campus by her eminence” Liam explained. “I thought of you all immediately.”
“We are honored by your consideration, your majesty, eminence.” The jackal replied, bowing again.
“I thought this was a dungeon school. Why are you training to be butlers at a dungeon school?” Torric said with a frown.
“Many powerful individuals become divers. They’ll need competent assistants who can follow them into the depths and not be a liability.” The jackal answered.
“Oh, that makes sense. Thank you for explaining. What is your name?”
“Houron Kess.” The jackal student answered. “I’m the club president. This is -”
“Meidron Vell.” One of the other students interrupted smoothly, stepping forward. He had skin that was a deep crimson, verging on black it so dark. Golden horns sprouted from his head, curving straight back over his head in single points. He held out his hand, palm tilted up in proper supplication.
His face bore the distinct angular cheekbones that he was used to seeing on other Sol’Feyra. A thin barbed prehensile tail curled behind him and he had an undeniable sex appeal that drew him in.
“Meidron is half incubus.” Houron explained, pushing him back. “Ignore the charm and avoid shaking his hand. That’s how he ensnares you.”
“Like I would ensnare a Luminari.” Meidron retorted, rolling his golden eyes.
Another, this time an actual elf, was introduced as Alaire Sen. Alaire was only one of two elves to be there. Almost everyone else was some flavor of beastkin, aside from Meidron, Alaire, the other Sol’Feyran, Nidriel, and another race of elves entirely, Kisentiel, who was one of the Aluvian elves from another world entirely.
Aluvia was much more tropical, and the elves who called it home all apparently had rich golden brown skin and amber yellow eyes. Kisentiel’s ears were still pointed, but they weren’t nearly as long and tapered as the paler skinned Sol’Feyrans.
Houron’s ears tipped forward, once again, twitching excitedly. “How exactly may we serve you, Your Eminence?”
Torric glanced at Liam, then back to the room. “Renethera wants me to choose a bodyguard-cum-assistant. A gatekeeper of sorts. Not because I need a blade at my back, but because I’ll need someone to keep people from touching my back and pestering me constantly. But I also want them to be my friend, not just a servant.”
He took a breath to steady himself. Letting the Renethera’s lesson beat through him: Luminari don’t ask. They command. “I need three strengths for mt assistant: steadiness, gatekeeping, and the courage to tell me no. If you’re interested, I’ll test you.”
“Test us. We will meet your standard, eminence.“ Houron answered, tail swishing eagerly.
Good.” Torric pointed to the open door, channeling his inner Remethera. “First: the hallway will fill within a minute of word getting out I’m here. Houron, you're the gatekeeper. Keep curiosity seekers from becoming a nuisance.”
“Alaire-” he turned to the elf with ink-smudged fingers “I need a schedule drafted: four classes this term, his majesty can tell you which they are. I need shrine hours a few times a week so I’m not constantly harassed for Blessings on campus or in the streets. Also, add daily meditation to the schedule and ensure to keep room for additional tutoring for me.
Triskiel I need standing meal arrangements in the prefects’ hall. I supposedly have some kind of personal chef to handle meals using sacrificial offerings.
Meidron-etiquette. Write what people may call me and where. Procedures for how to approach without overwhelming me.”
“Kierstan please arrange for an evening snack to be delivered to my room before curfew. I’d like some sort of soft cheese mixed with savory herbs and paired with jellied fruit meant to be served on a nice crusty bread. Maybe some olives too. A dessert made with a light sponge or a light flaky crust. I particularly like citrus.
When all four of you have completed your tasks you’ll have to duel his majesty to prove your martial capabilities. You'll all five assist me tonight while I socialize and prepare for bed, then I’ll discuss your performances with his highness before we go to sleep. Return to my room before breakfast tomorrow and I’ll tell you who will be my assistant.”
The four named candidates immediately scattered to their assigned tasks while Torric and the prince lounged on the vacated couches.
“So I’m dueling in your honor now?”
“Are you sure that is the bit you should be focusing on?” Torric teased.
“What should I be focusing on if not the four fights you just signed me up for?”
“The fact that you’d be in my bed tonight helping decide my butler… after they helped me prepare for bed.”
“What does that have to do with- oh. Oh!” The prince’s eyes widened as he realized that Torric had casually announced the prince would be spending the night in his bed.
Torric laughed, not just at the crimson flush creeping up the face of the prince sitting with him as it was about the fact that he was sitting here teasing a prince at all.
Once the five returned from their individual tasks, or in the case of Houron, once Torric was ready to leave since he was playing door guard they traipsed out to one of the training arenas that was available for student use.
The arena floor glowed from the illumination of countless mage lights. The first of the two suns had set, leaving the world bathed in a reddish glow that made Torric think of home, of the red skies of Praetoria that he had grown up beneath.Students were packing into the stands shoulder to shoulder, an air of excitement pervading the space.
Torric and Liam lounged on a bench in the very front of the arena sands where the five competitors were to compete, round robin style. Each of the five would face the others until one stood victorious. They would then fight the prince as final proof of skill.
The five butler candidates stepped into the ring. Houron squared his jackal-shouldered frame like a fortress. Alaire lifted his slim blade in a duelist’s salute. Triskiel cracked his neck and rolled his massive shoulders. Kierstan clutched his practice sword tight, sweat already on his brow. And Meidron, golden horns glinting the magelights, barbed tail twitching lazily, smiled like the duels to take place were nothing more than a lover’s dance.
The crowd around them hushed expectantly.. The first bout began.
–
Houron advanced towards the incubus with heavy steps, guard steady. Meidron circled around him, golden eyes gleaming.
The jackal struck first, with a powerful downward chop of his scimitar.
Meidron slid aside like smoke, tail brushing across Houron’s wrist and yanking his attack off balance. The jackal snarled, shaking off the distraction.
Another clash steel on steel, sparks snapping. Houron’s strength was overwhelming, but Meidron didn’t just move and dodge, he flowed through the space like water.
A high feint followed by a low sweep, then suddenly Meidron’s tail hooked Houron’s ankle.
The much heavier beastkin crashed into the sand of the arena floor, growling. Before he could rise, Meidron’s short sword hovered just over his throat.
“Yield,” Meidron purred.
Houron slapped the ground in frustration.
—
Alaire circled around Kisentiel, paired daggers versus a quarter staff. Sol’Feyran Alaire versus Aluvian Kistentiel.
The Sol’Feyran was relentless in his attacks, blades flashing through the air in silver arcs almost too fast to see, driving Kisentiel backwards one step at a time. One blocked attack at a time.
Desperate, Kisentiel threw a fistfull of sand in Alaire’s eyes, making the crowd gasp and Alaire swear.
Alaire staggered, trying to clear the sand from his eyes as Kisentiel pressed forward, his staff coming down hard on the other man’s shoulder and forcing him to drop one of his two blades.
Enraged, Alaire swiftly recovered, sweeping the other man’s legs out from under him and planting his blade with the tip resting directly over the other’s heart, poised to pierce but not actually breaking skin.
—
The thinner and more agile Meidron seemed to be at a serious disadvantage for his next fight, this time against a type of bull headed beastkin known as a minotaur who easily towered over him and outweighed him-by a lot.
Torric had never before seen a minotaur, and they were certainly massive if Triskiel was an accurate representation of his people. He towered a full head and shoulders over even the naturally tall elves, and his build was beyond impressive.
If it weren’t for his bull-like head he would have been the perfect representation of masculine beauty on Praetoria. Tall. Muscular. Strong.
The bull-beastkin roared and charged towards his opponent like a battering ram. Meidron only smiled, stepping back, back, always just out of reach, teasing the minotaur with glancing blows and swats with the flat of his blades, always too nimble to be caught. He was clearly dodging with the intent of enraging his competitor further and further with each missed blow, each return swipe that landed.
Triskiel swung his war maul; heavy blows, each one kicking up sand when it impacted with the ground and not the nimble incubus. Meidron ducked under his strike, rolled, and lashed his barbed tail across the man’s eyes.
Blinded, Triskiel staggered, just in time for Meidron’s blade to kiss his ribs.
The brute cursed and threw his weapon down. Meidron bowed with exaggerated flourish to the crowd, who erupted in cheers.
—
It was Alaire who fought Houron next. Paired serrated daggers versus single curved scimitar. A duel of precision and patience.
Alaire eventually stole the advantage, pressing forward with flurries of sharp thrusts. Initially Houron absorbed each one. Deflecting. Blocking, grounded and solid as stone.
Like stone he ended up not adapting to the elven warrior’s fluid feints and sharp slashes. Endurance could only take him so far.
Alaire feinted once, twice, then slipped inside his guard, blade pressed to the jackal’s exposed throat.
Houron yielded and the watching crowd murmured. He had lost twice now. And Alaire had won twice. The club leader was fast falling out of the competition while his second in command was rising above him
—
Kistentiel was clearly nervous as he came up against Meidron, something the half incubus was very clearly prepared to take advantage of. Meidron had won twice to his once, something clearly weighing on his psyche.
The elf waited for Meidron to approach as the attacker.
“Clever boy,” Meidron purred. “Making me come to you. After all, you have reach.”
He feinted a blow, tricking the elf into overextending himself trying to deflect it, stepping inside his reach in an instant.
“But your nerves betray you.” He drove the hilt of his short sword into Kistentiel’s stomach, making the elven man collapse inward with a grunt.
Kistentiel tried to turn the move into a lunge that morphed into a desperado thrust. It wasn’t enough and Meidron only grinned as his weapon only grazed his side.
His tail snapped back as he nimbly dodged the desperate attack, wrapping around his leg and yanking it out from under him. In a blink the incubus was on his back, riding him to the ground.
“Yield.” The elven man announced, face pressed into the sand but otherwise unharmed.
Meidron stood and stalked forward to stand in front of Torric and Liam in the stands, bowing to Torric with a flirtatious flourish and a cheeky wink.
—
Alaire stepped up to fight Triskiel. The minotaur’s tail slashed behind him as a hooved foot stomped and pawed at the ground. He’d lost every fight he’d participated in so far, and it was clearly beginning to piss him off. That Alaire had won all his fights so far clearly made things worse.
The elven warrior had his measure, however.
Within seconds the minotaur was disarmed, maul flying towards the watching crowd.
A crackling red lightning bolt knocked the maul from the air, sending it spinning in a different direction. All eyes went to the incubus who had summoned the bolt, who gave a mocking bow.
“You’re welcome.” He smirked, winking at Torric, who colored faintly.
—
The last match that mattered, Meidron versus Alaire. Both undefeated so far. Similar fighting styles, Alaire duel wielded matching daggers while Meidron used matching short swords.
If they used the same weapons Alaire would have had the better reach, being taller than Meidron and with slightly longer arms. Meidron’s short swords made up the difference in arm length, however, and his speed more than edged out the elf.
Steel rang on steel in rapid succession. Alaire’s thrusts were perfection, but Meidron fought like chaos itself. Every feint too fast, every grin too distracting. His footwork was absolutely flawless. His tail swept sand into Alaire’s eyes, his golden gaze locked on Alaire’s face with infuriating charm.
Alaire pressed too hard, lunging forward with a surge of furious power. Meidron spun aside, tail hooking his ankle. The elf crashed to the ground.
In an instant, Meidron’s blade hovered at his throat.
“Yield,” Meidron whispered.
Alaire spat gritty sand out of his mouth. “Yield.”
—
“And now you only have to fight one person, not five.” Torric teased the prince as he began to prepare for his fight against Meidron.
“What happens if I lose?”
“I will take you to bed tonight and console you.”
“And if I win?”
“I take you to bed and we celebrate.”
“So either way you’re taking me to bed?” The prince asked, pausing as he buckled on his pauldrons.
“Yes.” Torric replied, taking up the task the prince had stopped. “Unless you’d prefer to sleep alone tonight?”
Liam curled his arm around his waist, possessively pulling Torric hard against his body. “Now you’re inviting me for the entire night?”
“I don’t like sleeping alone.” Torric replied as if that answered everything. “Unless you want me to make a night in my bed the winning condition for the duel between you and Meidron?”
“Oh I like that.” Meidron’s voice purred behind them.
Torric had meant it to tease the prince but now that the incubus had heard him it seemed cruel to deny him.
“Alright.” Torric replied, a teasing, wicked smile spreading across his face. “Winner gets to sleep in my bed tonight. No maiming. No cheap shots, either. I want a clean fight.”
The arena was electric as the two combatants faced off. The crowd was pressed tight around the sand ring, whispering feverishly, and betting just as feverishly, about which of the two would win.
Torric’s decree, the winner gets to sleep in his bed that night, hung in the air like thunder before a storm.
Liam stood in the fighting circle, greatsword gleaming under the mage-lights, his armor strapped tight, and eyes burning with jealous devotion. Beside him, Meidron rolled his shoulders, twin short swords flashing wickedly, golden eyes glinting as though Torric’s promise had already been his.
They faced each other, both bowing their heads not to one another, but to Torric, seated outside the arena circle like a god on a throne.
“Begin.” His voice rang out.
Liam strode forward first, greatsword raised high. Each swing came like a stormwind, broad arcs that whistled through the air with crushing force.
Meidron danced back from the swinging blows, laughing as he dodged, twin blades flickering through the air like silver fireflies. He sidestepped, ducked, and slid beneath the cleaving arcs, his tail stirring sand into small whirlwinds.
The prince pressed harder, driving the incubus across the arena sand step by step, sword smacking the sand where Meidron had been a heartbeat earlier. The crowd roared with every missed strike, torn between awe at Liam’s power and Meidron’s speed.
Torric wasn’t sure who to cheer for. He knew how good Liam felt in bed, but his body craved the incubus like a drug, even though he’d never once tasted him.
Meidron finally lunged in, taking the offense for the first time, short swords striking in a flurry. Left, right, high, low, feint, step, strike, dodge, sweep. Sparks flew as Liam’s greatsword swept down to block, steel scraping across steel.
The prince countered a lightning fast strike with a brutal shoulder slam, sending the incubus staggering backwards across the arena sand.
“He’s mine,” Liam snarled, voice thick with possession, gaze flicking to the watching Torric.
Meidron’s answering smile was all sin and promise. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t yield my god so easily. Besides, you’ve had him for what, a day? One night in my arms and you will be swiftly forgotten.”
They clashed again. Liam’s sword carving through the air in wide, powerful circles.
Meidron slipped into the openings, his twin blades slashing through the air with the speed of a striking viper. One sword scored across Liam’s pauldron, carving a groove in the protective metal. Another struck sparks from his greaves.
The prince gritted his teeth, swinging harder, faster, his strikes growing more desperate.
“And now you only have to fight one person, not five.” Torric teased the prince as he began to prepare for his fight against Meidron.
“What happens if I lose?”
“I will take you to bed tonight and console you.”
“And if I win?”
“I take you to bed and we celebrate.”
“So either way you’re taking me to bed?” The prince asked, pausing as he buckled on his pauldrons.
“Yes.” Torric replied, taking up the task the prince had stopped. “Unless you’d prefer to sleep alone tonight?”
Liam curled his arm around his waist, possessively pulling Torric hard against his body. “Now you’re inviting me for the entire night?”
“I don’t like sleeping alone.” Torric replied as if that answered everything. “Unless you want me to make a night in my bed the winning condition for the duel between you and Meidron?”
“Oh I like that.” Meidron’s voice purred behind them.
Torric had meant it to tease the prince but now that the incubus had heard him it seemed cruel to deny him.
“Alright.” Torric replied, a teasing, wicked smile spreading across his face. “Winner gets to sleep in my bed tonight. No maiming. No cheap shots, either. I want a clean fight.”
The arena was electric as the two combatants faced off. The crowd was pressed tight around the sand ring, whispering feverishly, and betting just as feverishly, about which of the two would win.
Torric’s decree, the winner gets to sleep in his bed that night, hung in the air like thunder before a storm.
Liam stood in the fighting circle, greatsword gleaming under the mage-lights, his armor strapped tight, and eyes burning with jealous devotion. Beside him, Meidron rolled his shoulders, twin short swords flashing wickedly, golden eyes glinting as though Torric’s promise had already been his.
They faced each other, both bowing their heads not to one another, but to Torric, seated outside the arena circle like a god on a throne.
“Begin.” His voice rang out.
Liam strode forward first, greatsword raised high. Each swing came like a stormwind, broad arcs that whistled through the air with crushing force.
Meidron danced back from the swinging blows, laughing as he dodged, twin blades flickering through the air like silver fireflies. He sidestepped, ducked, and slid beneath the cleaving arcs, his tail stirring sand into small whirlwinds.
The prince pressed harder, driving the incubus across the arena sand step by step, sword smacking the sand where Meidron had been a heartbeat earlier. The crowd roared with every missed strike, torn between awe at Liam’s power and Meidron’s speed.
Torric wasn’t sure who to cheer for. He knew how good Liam felt in bed, but his body craved the incubus like a drug, even though he’d never once tasted him.
Meidron finally lunged in, taking the offense for the first time, short swords striking in a flurry. Left, right, high, low, feint, step, strike, dodge, sweep. Sparks flew as Liam’s greatsword swept down to block, steel scraping across steel.
The prince countered a lightning fast strike with a brutal shoulder slam, sending the incubus staggering backwards across the arena sand.
“He’s mine,” Liam snarled, voice thick with possession, gaze flicking to the watching Torric.
Meidron’s answering smile was all sin and promise. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t yield my god so easily. Besides, you’ve had him for what, a day? One night in my arms and you will be swiftly forgotten.”
They clashed again. Liam’s sword carving through the air in wide, powerful circles.
Meidron slipped into the openings, his twin blades slashing through the air with the speed of a striking viper. One sword scored across Liam’s pauldron, carving a groove in the protective metal. Another struck sparks from his greaves.
The prince gritted his teeth, swinging harder, faster, his strikes growing more desperate. The clash of steel rang even sharper, louder, and more ferocious in the air.
Liam drove forward, sweat rolling down his temples, every swing fueled by devotion and possessive fury, he clearly was not going to give uo hisnplace in Torric’s bed easily. His greatsword hit like thunder, heavy, relentless, shoving Meidron back step by step.
But the incubus never stopped smiling, no matter how many blows landed. Not that many did.
Every time the blade came crashing down, the incubus was already gone, sliding to the side, ducking low, or spinning away in a flurry of motion too quick to follow. His twin swords darted in to score stinging strikes across armor, finding weak points in joints, slashes shallow but stacking, death by a thousand cut. Sparks showered across the arena sand.
Liam roared, twisting his blade in a brutal arc meant to end the fight before it could continue on. The incubus had to be tiring after four fights, he was far fresher.
Meidron twisted with the greatsword, one of his short swords sliding along the steel to redirect, the other flicking in and carving across the prince’s thigh. Blood blossomed bright red against polished armor. The crowd gasped as Liam faltered.
Systematically, Meidron pressed the wound, short blades moving faster and faster, their rhythm hypnotic. He cut at straps, joints, weak points, wearing the prince down with surgical precision. His golden eyes never left Torric’s, as though offering each strike was a gift to the Luminari.
Liam’s chest was heaving, as he tried for one last desperate overhead blow, putting all his weight into the strike. Meidron surged in, faster than the eye could follow. His left blade hooked the greatsword aside. His right pressed cold and sharp against the prince’s throat.
The arena went utterly silent.
Then Torric’s voice, smooth as velvet, carried across the circle:
“You’ve lost, your highness.”
The prince’s knuckles whitened on his hilt, pride warring with obedience. His jaw clenched. Finally, he dropped his sword into the sand.
The crowd erupted.
Meidron withdrew his blade with a flourish, tail flicking smugly behind him as he bowed, not to Liam, but low and lingering toward Torric. “Your bed is mine tonight.”
Liam’s glare could have scorched stone, but Torric only smiled, a wicked, knowing curve of his lips. Both men had fought like zealots for him, and in that moment, seated like a god upon his throne, he reveled in the worship, the devotion of both men swirling through the air, a head incense only he could smell.
"Yes, my bed is yours. Tonight, and tonight alone. Your performance will decide if you get another night."
Torric beckoned the prince over, stroking his cheek. "Don't worry, sweet prince. You will forever be the first to enter my bed in Solstheen. The first person to enter my bed as a freed man and not a slave. Meidron will have to work very hard to supplant your place permenently."
He looked at the crowd of assembled students, a smile playing over his lips at the miniature melodrama that had just played out in front of the student body. "I do believe that it is almost time for curfew. I don't want any of you to get into trouble. Or me. Have a pleasant evening. Meidron, would you be so kind as to escort me to my bedroom? And your highness, I expect you to join me for breakfast. Alone. As I will be. One and a half hours before the first class of the day."
Liam's eyes lit up. "As you desire, eminence."
Torric presemted his arm to the incubus. "Shall we go, my lord?"
"Absolutely, eminence." He replied, taking Torric's arm.
Chapter 7
Notes:
No on screen sex for this chapter. Sexy time is not fitting for the feeling I wanted this chapter to have. But don't worry, on screen sex between Meidron and Torric will happen in the future.
I am vaguely debating posting the 3rd work I've been cycling between, where the MC is a very morally grey anti-hero bordering on a villain for a protagonist. Much more violence compared to Ascension and Stormborn. Also, if you like Ascension but haven't yet read Stormborn, head over and check it out. Stormborn is a primal, very sexual, harem dungeon crawl adventure, where here in Ascension we are exploring power dynamics both socially and sexually, and is going to be more slice of life than adventure, and is probably going to be much more slow burn than Stormborn.
Chapter Text
Torric’s requested bedtime snack was ready and waiting in his room, along with mundane food for what had originally been the prince and now was to be enjoyed by Meidron.
“Why did you offer a night in your bed as a bonus prize to the duel?” Meidron asked, casually smearing a piece of toasted bread with a soft white goat cheese and a fig jelly.
“I had originally meant it to tease the prince. You weren’t meant to overhear us at all. Once you had heard us though… I’ll admit to being curious about you after seeing your performance in the fights.
Strong men. Strong warriors…are very sexy where I come from. I judged you the way so many of the Praetorians judged me. A pretty boy meant for bedding. That you could fight, and well… It was a turn on. If you could truly fight and win five duels back to back…I wanted you. And my guardian said I need to be more assertive about what I want.
Now you tell me. Why aren’t you afraid of me? You don’t feel cowed by me or like you would immediately do whatever I want the moment I suggested it just because I suggested it.”
“That... Torric… ” Meidron’s voice caressed his name as he moved in behind him. “Is because as an incubus I inherently know your every secret desire.”
His free hand slid up the back of Torric’s neck, and into his hair, gripping it at the root, pulling his head back and pinning him between the table and his own body.
Meidron held up the piece of bread he’d prepared to Torric’s lips. “I know you need someone to spoil you, but you can’t relax enough to allow it. You need someone to force you to do it. No one else can because of what you are, what you represent.”
The incubus traced the outer edge of his ear with his tongue. “As an incubus I can become everything you need me to be. Take a bite, Torric . Savor it, enjoy it.”
Torric’s lips parted and he bit down onto the treat, eyes closed as he enjoyed the sweet and savory snack. Meidron’s velvet control was even sweeter, allowing him to relax in a way he hadn’t been able to since Andorel had rescued him.
Being told what to do. To feel dominated, controlled, that was what he had been trained for. What he craved. Being worshiped and obeyed was alien, wrong, vaguely disturbing, but this was right.
Safe.
Comforting.
He relaxed into the incubus’s arms, forgetting that Meidron was supposed to be interviewing for a position as his butler, and reveling in the feeling of being owned, even if it was an illusion.
A delicious, delicious illusion.
“Take another bite, Torric. ”
Every time he hit his name like that. A purring caress, dominance, ownership, and wicked control all mixed together. Sinful luxury.
His lips parted and he took another bite.
“Mmmm.” He subconsciously moaned, eyes closed. “I think I understand why your classmates all already consider the assistant position yours.”
“Forget about that right now, pet. You have been working so hard to please me all day.” He kissed his way up the back of Torric’s neck, from base to hairline. “Let me spoil you, my domivayn .”
He melted at the word, only Meidron’s arms around his body kept him from falling as his knees went weak. He whimpered.
“You need to give in.” He whispered, kissing his neck again.
“To give up control.” His breath was hot in his ear.
“To feel owned.” He roughly pushed his body against Torric's.
“Please.” He whimpered in the face of the incubus's dominance.
“We can stop whenever you want. You just need to say the word. What word would you like to use to tell me to stop?”
“Renethera?” Torric suggested with an evil, teasing smile.
“Good gods that would kill the mood. We’ll save that for an absolute stop immediately. But what if we are playing in here and someone walks in and you want me to stop but not in a way to hurt my feelings or subtly threaten me with death?”
“Mmm, good question.”
They swayed back and forth together to an unheard rhythm, Meidron’s free hand pressed flat against his stomach, the possessive feeling of the incubus’s arm wrapped around him making it difficult to think.
“It should be subtle. Something you can slip into conversation without anyone else realizing it is more than a simple order to your butler.”
“What about if I tell you to prepare a particular kind of wine? A sweet white to put a pause to our games but that we’ll continue when whoever is with me is gone.”
“A dark red to let me know you think your guest is dangerous in a bad way.”
“A rosè if they’re only dangerous to my bed that night.” Torric teased.
“I know I won’t be exclusive to your bed, to break the illusion for a moment, eminence. I don’t expect it. I truly am here to serve you. I may call you my domivayn when no one is around, but my role as your butler will be akin to a domivayn meets bodyguard. Only I’m not a slave and if I think your orders run counter to your safety I will ignore them and do as I believe best.
We of the Butler’s Club looked up everything we could about you after you revealed yourself as a former slave, so that we would know how to treat you once your guardian sent you to find an assistant. All young Luminari have one. Though there was no guarantee you would end up on our doorstep, we had to prepare.
So when I say I know what you need, and how I can serve you, I want you to understand that I understand the importance of the word domivayn to you.”
“Shut up and stop breaking the fantasy then. I need to quiet my brain.” Torric replied with a smile.
The professional posture and demeanor melted away and once again the incubus took over spoiling him as a noble lord was supposed to spoil his domivayn.
Meidron’s lips hovered right next to his ear, so close he could feel how hot his breath was. “Good. Boy.” The words were darkly seductive, not purred, but caressed.
For the second time in as many minutes Torric’s knees went weak and he had to be held up.
-*-
He sat on Meidron’s lap on a couch while the demon smeared cheese on bread and fed it to him bite by bite, or olives, ordering him to eat and drink, and not just ordering it, but hand feeding him.
“I know what you really want.” Meidron purred in his ear. “But first you need to tell your scary as fuck guardian who will kill first and ask questions second, when she smells your blood or however she senses it that what we are doing is sex and not an attempted assassination.”
Torric laughed, sending a message to his ‘guardian’ using the System.
Do you understand what it means to spill blood during sex?
Are there other ways?
Well that was going to make things easy.
I’m about to have sex with someone who isn't afraid to hurt me during sex, but he doesn’t want you to kill him, either.
He is wise to seek permission first. I understand wanting to fuck again so soon after such a poor performance on the prince’s part. You didn’t bleed a drop, though neither did he.
If I tried, I think he might have fainted. Will you leave us alone if you sense blood? He is auditioning to be my assistant/body servant.
I will not pay attention until one pint is spilled. If it reaches two I will investigate in person. Depending on what I find he will not like it.
Thank you!
“Don’t spill more than a pint, pint and a half of blood max and she won’t care. Don’t hit 2. Do I need to tell you how far is too far?”
“Darling, I’m an incubus. If you have to tell me anything that I don’t already know and understand before you beg for it, my ancestors would descend from on high to beat the shit out of me. In a not fun way.”
“You still treat me like I’m normal even without pretending to be my master.”
“Didn’t we just cover this? Knowing what you need means more than sexually, though most of my kind are and use it strictly for that. Desire is about so much more than sex. Though… we’re good as sex. It's a cultural pastime. I promise to only skirt the line of your boundaries, not cross them, if you trust me.”
“I’m sure you understand what violating that trust means?”
“Death, maiming, torture. Trust me, I prefer my skin intact and body unmaimed. Now are you ready to play?”
“Yes.”
Meidron’s lips traced the back of his neck. “Then let us begin.
-*-
When they finished, Torric laid partially on top of Meidron, the incubus lazily tracing patterns on his back with one finger, the nail sharpened to a point that didn’t -quite- draw blood.
“Mmmmmmm,” he purred with drowsy contentment. His time with Liam had been lovely, but Torric now understood why many legends on Praetoria had considered sex with incubi and succubi to be highly addictive.
“I know I don’t need to ask, but did you enjoy yourself, my pet?” Meidron asked, kissing the top of his head.
“Maybe you don’t have to work as hard as I thought you would to replace the prince as chief in my bed.”
The incubus laughed. “I am happy to serve you however you like. Even if that means supplanting your sweet prince, for you are far sweeter.”
“Stay with me tonight?” He asked, rubbing his cheek against Meidron’s chest. “You’ll have to leave when I have breakfast with the prince, though.”
“I would be delighted to sleep in your bed. When it comes time for your meal I’ll slip over to my dorm and bathe and change.”
“If I do make you my butler how will that work? You’re in a different year than I am and have your own room in a different building.”
“With your permission I would move into your room here, and the headmaster will transfer me into most of your classes. I can’t fly so I can’t join your aerial combat class, but the rest I’ll transfer onto.”
“You’ll even come to my healing class? Do you have healing magic?”
“No. I’ll probably end up being one of the test subjects you practice on. It isn’t uncommon. High lords and ladies often bring their own butlers or maids who are also students and they share classes for the majority of the time.”
“But what about your classes? You’re in what year? This’ll ruin your education.”
“Pet. My entire point of coming here was not to become a diver but to get employed by someone like you. My education led me here, to this moment, to you. I don’t really care about the rest of it. I’ll learn alongside you to be the best butler I can be.”
“Don’t you want to be more than just a servant?”
Meidron laughed. “Did you want to be more than just a domivayn?”
“Yes, actually. But once I realized that was where my fate lay I accepted it. You have to understand. Domivayn are prized, treasured by their owners, but overall we are basically just pets and have no rights or privileges beyond what our owner gives us. We aren’t respected. It isn’t a goal to achieve willingly. It is only a position you take up when it is that or the slow death of starvation, or worse.”
“I always wanted to find someone to serve. I just wanted to find one person that I could devote all my time and energy to. Incubi have to have a mate of some kind. We’ll literally die without regular sex, starving just as much as you might if you didn’t eat. Some of my people establish large harems and go into the route of some form of ruling. I would prefer to have one special person who I can support behind the scenes.”
“You want to be the power behind the throne, rather than sitting upon the throne yourself.”
“Yes. I want to be the power behind your throne. To give you what you need, when you need it. When I say I want to serve you I mean it very earnestly.”
“Because I’m Luminari.”
“Because you’re sexy as fuck. Being Luminari is just an extra bonus.”
Torric chuckled. “I’m not used to being in a world where beauty is so prized. In Praetoria the more physically attractive people found you the lower your station usually was. Pretty people usually end up being pretty weak unless they are one of the Chosen.
“By Chosen you mean a ranker.”
“Yes. Those Chosen by the gods. The System does not often bless Praetorians. It finds them incompatible as most Praetorians lack the channels needed to absorb and interact with the System's magic. The Chosen are treated as well on Praetoria as you treat one of the Luminari on this world. That I could have been one of the Chosen but my power had been bound by a curse was part of why I was considered so worthless on Praetoria and not worth helping. Of course, being nonhuman didn’t help.”
“That planet is backwards as fuck. If you had access to the System they should have done everything possible to break the curse and give you back your power. Especially if rankers were so rare on your planet.”
“If I was weak enough to be cursed then I was too weak to be worth helping by Praetorian standards.”
“When were you cursed?”
“Young. I don’t know when. They said that I had been found cursed in the badlands. By my size and mental development they guessed I was around 2 years old,, but I grew and developed mentally far slower than the humans of Praetoria. I couldn’t walk when they rescued me. Couldn’t feed myself. Couldn’t talk. I'd been on the planet for 5 years by the time I could walk and talk as well as a human child of 4 could. Another mark against me when it came to weakness. I needed so much help when I was little. And for far longer than I should have needed help with.”
“You were a literal infant then, when you were taken. I’m so sorry, that had to have been terrible. And the fact that someone had taken a Luminari infant, bound their power, then abandoned them to die is unconscionable. If almost anyone else had found you that day your life would have been so very different. You should have been protected. You should have been treated as the precious gift you are.”
No one had said that to him when he was a child. No one had told Torric he was worth protecting. That he was a treasure. That he was anything but a burden. Hearing it now, in this bed, the words hurt in ways he hadn’t dreamed they would. They pressed against old scars, pried open wounds he’d trained himself not to feel.
He wanted to laugh, to scoff, to call it a pretty lie that Meidron was using as pillow talk. And yet he wanted to believe the other man more than he’d ever wanted anything. Both urges tore at him until all he could do was bury his face against Meidron’s chest, clinging like he was still that abandoned child in the badlands, only this time, someone was holding him as he choked back his tears.
Silene grew, then Torric sighed heavily, pushing down the emotions that had risen unbidden, unwelcome. “It wasn’t an easy life, but once I signed the slave contract and began training as a domivayn my life at least had purpose. I had a method to survive.”
“When did you begin training if you don’t mind me asking?” Meidron asked gently, stroking his hair tenderly.
“When I was roughly 10 by Praetorian standards I was sat down by the orphanage matron. She told me that it was obvious at that point that I would be unable to take care of myself as an adult. That I was less than worthless in every way but one. I could become a bedslave, either in a brothel or as a domivayn. I had to decide then and there. If I refused to be a bedslave then they would turn me out on the streets that very day. They didn’t want to waste vital resources on someone who would die young.”
“That is…awful.”
“They didn’t start my sexual training until about a decade ago, but I began my social training the day I signed the slave contract. The auction house paid for my training and upkeep, in return they’d sell me when it was determined that I came of age.”
“They made you sell yourself into sexual slavery at the age of 10?” Now Meidron sounded downright horrified. “Convinced you that your only hope of survival at such a tender age was to sell yourself? Then they had the audacity to make you believe that not only was it your only choice, but the best choice you could have made?!” Outrage layered his voice.
“They didn’t make me start having sex with people for years. It’s not like they preyed upon my childhood.”
“They absolutely preyed upon your childhood. They may not have raped you at 10, but taking a 10 year old and telling them that they had to become a bedslave or be cast out of the only home they’d ever known to die on the streets alone is unconscionable.”
Torric closed his eyes, shame and relief warring. He wanted to argue. He wanted to cling tighter. Both urges scared him with their intensity. “It terrifies me, Meidron. That I agreed so easily to everything you wanted tonight. That it would be so easy for someone else to break me because of my training.”
“Then let me be the one to protect you.” The answer was simple, but the conviction in it pressed deep. “I don’t want to break you, Torric. I want to hold what’s already broken, and keep it safe. And I will definitely make sure no one hurts you or takes advantage of you.”
The words were dangerous. They probably weren’t supposed to mean anything beyond the moment. And yet they struck him like a blade in his ribs, because some part of Torric longed for them to be true.
He buried his face against Meidron’s chest, hiding the heat, need and fear in his eyes. His voice came muffled: “Don’t say things like that unless you mean them.”
He wanted to believe him. Gods, he wanted to believe. And that was what terrified him most of all.
Meidron kissed his temple softly. “I’ve never meant anything more. Your soul aches. You want me, and fear me. You want the life that has been offered to you as a Luminari, but you fear it. You’re afraid that this is all a dream that is going to be ripped away from you. But it isn’t a dream, Torric.
This is real. Renethera being ready to kill anyone who so much as looks cross eyed at you is real. Prince Liam wanting you is real. My desire for you is real. The devotion being offered to you is real. No one will take it from you. No doubt countless worlds are arming themselves even now to take revenge upon Praetoria for what they did to you. No one, and I mean no one, will hurt you again. Or enslave you.”
Torric sighed. “You promise that so easily, but such promises are not so easily kept. I am weak. Worthless except for the blood in my veins and the striking looks on my face. I can’t fight back. I can’t defend myself. The wrong person wrapping their fist in my hair and ordering me to my knees to service them will get no resistance. You can’t be everywhere with me. Nor can Renethera. What happens then?”
“You are not weak, Torric. And were never worthless. Not even if you were just another nameless beastkin without the radiance of your Luminari bloodline, even without your devastating ethereal beauty, you would still not be weak or worthless. The only ones who deserve that title are those who starved you of love, who twisted you into believing that the only thing of value that you had to offer to your world was your body. That is the greatest lie they ever told you.
Never confuse being untrained with being weak. True weakness lies in those who preyed on a child and convinced him he was only flesh for purchase. Those people were the rot, the filth. They were the worthless ones. Not you.”
Torric’s throat worked as he swallowed back the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him, but no sound came. Meidron’s words clawed inside his chest, ripping him up from the inside out, dragging loose every memory he had tried to bury. Being told how useless he was.. Being told he was too slow, too broken, too dependent, too weak. Being told that the only reason he was fed, clothed, allowed to sleep indoors was because one day someone would buy his body. Meidron’s voice had cracked through all of it, laid bare the truth he had never dared imagine: that maybe the filth hadn’t been him at all.
He wanted to reject it, to deny it, to laugh bitterly in Meidron’s face. But the warmth of the demon’s hand in his hair, the steady heartbeat beneath his ear, the utter conviction in that voice, it was undoing him. His breath hitched, uneven, as tears pressed hot against his eyes.
“It’s ok to cry.” Meidon’s voice was soft, his tone gentle. “I won’t think any less of you for it.”
Torric bit down hard on his lip, as if pain alone could dam up the flood threatening to break free. He hated crying. Hated the way it made him feel raw, exposed, like the helpless child he had once been. And yet the more he fought it, the more Meidon’s words burned inside him, searing their way through the armor he’d built over years of silence.
“It’s not-” his voice cracked, broke, fragile as spun sugar glass. He swallowed again, but the tears escaped anyway, hot and relentless, soaking into Meidron’s chest. His fingers dug into the bare chest beneath his hands, as if gripping him could stop the whole world from coming apart.
Meidron didn’t flinch. He didn’t pull away or try to hush him. He simply held him, steady and unyielding, his hand stroking slow circles into Torric’s hair. A fortress of warmth, immovable, refusing to let shame dictate the moment.
The humiliation Torric expected over his tears never came. Only the quiet strength of being allowed to break, even if only a little bit.
He cried until he couldn’t any more, his eyes reddened and swollen from his tears, Meidron never releasing his comforting hold upon him, his hand never ceasing his comforting caresses.
“Let me get you some water and a cool cloth for your eyes, pet.” He finally said as Torric’s shuddering sobs slowed.
Torric sniffed, mortified by how small and broken he must look, but his body was too wrung out to protest. He nodded weakly, his voice barely a rasp. “Okay.”
Meidron shifted carefully, the bed dipping as he moved away, but his hand never left Torric’s hair until the last possible moment. He returned swiftly, the cool press of a damp cloth brushing gently against swollen eyelids. Torric flinched at first, then melted, too exhausted to hold up his walls.
“You don’t have to hide from me,” Meidron murmured, his thumb sweeping away a lingering tear with impossible tenderness. “Not your tears. Not your fear. Not anything.”
Torric tried to laugh, but it came out hollow, thin. “If you knew how weak I feel right now, you wouldn’t say that.”
Meidron stilled, his gaze sharpening. “Weakness is refusing to feel. Weakness is clinging to lies so you don’t have to face the truth. You, Torric, are stronger than anyone who ever tried to break you, because you are still here. Still breathing. Still fighting, even if it feels like you’re crawling over broken glass to do it.”
The words cut through him like the glass Meidron had just referenced, sharp and painful, but they warmed too, like sitting in front of a comforting fire after being trapped outside in the cold for hours. Torric turned his face away, ashamed of the heat rising in his chest. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It isn’t simple,” Meidron admitted softly, setting the cloth aside to cup Torric’s cheek. “It’s the hardest thing in the world. But you don’t have to do it alone anymore.”
The truth of that, raw, terrifying, beautiful, settled in his chest like a spark searching for dry tinder. He wanted to shove it away, to bury it under sarcasm and disbelief, but instead he found himself leaning into the hand that held him, letting the warmth seep in.
“Stay,” he whispered, the single word torn from a place deeper than he’d ever meant to expose. “Just… stay with me tonight.”
Meidron smiled faintly, not triumphant, but tender. He brushed a kiss against Torric’s damp temple. “You already invited me into your bed tonight. I would not abandon you now, or any other night.”
Torric’s breath caught, his chest tightening. The reassurance was so simple, so certain, that it almost hurt worse than silence. He wasn’t used to promises being given without strings, without conditions. Everything in his life until recently had been a transaction. He had had to give up piece after piece of himself to survive.
He searched Meidron’s face for even a flicker of mockery, some sign that this was just another pretty lie whispered in the dark. But all he found was calm certainty, as though the demon had spoken something as immutable as the laws of gravity.
“I don’t know how to believe you,” Torric admitted, voice barely audible. It was the closest he could come to confessing just how much he wanted to.
“You don’t need to,” Meidron replied softly, brushing a thumb over his damp cheek. “Belief comes later. For tonight, just let yourself rest. Let me hold you. That’s all.”
The gentleness in those words unraveled something inside Torric that his tears hadn’t touched. He exhaled slowly, trembling, then curled closer until his forehead rested against Meidron’s throat. His body sagged, exhaustion and fragile trust tangling together as his defenses faltered.
For once, he didn’t feel like prey waiting for the teeth to sink in. He didn’t feel like property waiting to be bought. In the quiet shelter of Meidron’s arms, with the steady heartbeat beneath his ear, he felt, perhaps for the first time he could remember, like he might actually belong to something. To someone. And not in the way of a slave. Not as property.
Sleep pulled him under as Meidon held him and he realized the most terrifying part of all wasn’t that Meidron might be lying. It was that he might be telling the truth.
Chapter 8
Summary:
Training montage! Torric attends his first combat class. The next couple chapters will include more training as Torric tries to find his footing in an entirely new environment, surrounded by strangers and even stranger customs.
Notes:
All 3 of my stories got a new chapter today, so if you like what you see here, might I suggest a look at my other works?
Chapter Text
He woke up when Meidron tried to sneak out of bed. He grabbed onto the incubus, clinging to him. “Nooooo.” He protested sleepily. “I need my cuddle pillow.”
“You need to get ready for Prince Liam’s arrival, and I need to go back to my room to bathe, dress, pack, and meet with the headmaster to have my schedule adjusted to match yours. Unless you don’t intend on keeping me after my trial last night?”
“I am definitely keeping you.”
“Good. Now go get in the bath. I doubt the prince would appreciate you joining him smelling of old sweat and sex.”
“Fine.” He grumbled, releasing his incubus. “But tomorrow you’ll not be sneaking out early.”
“Deal.” Meidron laughed. “Now get up, lazy bones, and don’t forget to send your breakfast order to the kitchens, since you get special meals. You really should send them your menu for each day before you go to bed, in the future, so they know to plan ahead. Along those lines, when you send in breakfast, try to send in what you want for lunch and dinner as well.”
“I don’t know what to order. I’m used to the plain fare of an orphanage on another planet, remember?”
“I’ll send something in for you, then, if you’ll trust me. I just need the contact details for your chef. Which I should have anyway since I’m now your butler.”
Torric sent him the information, and sent his chef a message informing him that Meidron was his new butler and would be sending in his meal orders for the day shortly, along with Meidron’s contact information. He also apologized for not getting him his requested menu sooner, and requested that the chef send them both a list of offerings that they had on hand to cook with so that they might have a better idea of what dishes could be made.
He reluctantly released his new butler-friend-lover, allowing him to leave the room before heading to his bathroom. He used the standing shower since he would be bathing alone. It would be ridiculous for him to accidentally drown in his bath because he bathed alone and got his wings too waterlogged. They were significantly heavier than they had been, now that there were three sets and not one.
He dried off and dressed for the day, already looking forward to his first day of classes now that he was actually awake. He checked his gains overnight, finding that the number of his devoted followers had almost doubled, and he had gained an additional 3 levels and more points in a handful of stats above and beyond what was granted from his level bonus. He now had almost 1,300 devotion points saved up and no idea what to spend them on. He would need to meet with Renethera, undoubtedly she would have some suggestions.
He shot her a message asking her to join him for dinner and advice on how to progress his Class, fully expecting her to still be asleep. She was definitely not a morning person, and it was fairly early. Still she’d see the notification when she did wake.
About 20 minutes before Liam was supposed to come over for breakfast Torric received a message from him asking if he was awake and willing to have him over earlier than planned. He quickly responded with an affirmative to both questions, and to come straight in.
Liam let himself into his room so quickly after sending his reply that Torric was pretty sure that he’d been standing immediately outside his bedroom door.
“You should probably keep that locked, you know.” The prince told him cheerfully. “You never know who might sneak in.”
“It was locked while we slept, but I forgot to relock it after Meidron left this morning. Besides, would anyone really infiltrate my room?”
“Absolutely. They’ll want to try to seduce you, to steal your personal belongings as trophies, leave behind gifts or letters confessing their undying love. You really should think about hiring a servant to specifically guard your bedroom when you’re in classes for those very same reasons. Also, I would highly recommend keeping all your undergarments in your personal storage and not in a wardrobe. They will be one of the most stolen articles of clothing you possess if you were to leave them just lying about your bedroom.”
“People would want my underwear? Why?”
“Trophies. And I don’t just mean your clean undergarments. Your dirty undergarments would be quite the prize for many.”
“What in the world would people want to do with my dirty underwear?”
“You really don’t want to know.”
Torric gave him a flat look. “You’re serious.”
“Completely.” Liam perched on the edge of the bed as if he owned it. “There are entire markets for relics touched only touched by one of the Luminari, like a used napkin. Do you know how much some noble brat would pay for a single feather that falls off your wings, let alone your underwear? Your feathers are probably worth more than a hundred thousand gold by weight.”
“That’s insane.”
“That’s devotion,” Liam corrected with a grin. “And the system rewards it, doesn’t it? You could fund a small army just by shedding in public.”
Torric groaned and flopped back on the pillows. “First Meidron tells me I need a secretary for my meals, now you’re telling me I need guards for my underwear. Am I a god or a zoo exhibit?”
“Yes,” Liam said smugly.
“Do I need to worry about you stealing my dirty underwear? That sounds so insane. People really want my dirty underwear?”
“Ask Meidron if you don’t believe me.”
“I will.”
Mei,
Liam says that people will try to steal my dirty underwear if I leave it laying around my room. Is that true or is he teasing me?
He is teasing you, but it is absolutely true. I’ll personally wash them for you. Not for kinky reasons but because if you send them out with the laundry service you’ll never see them again.
What would they do with my underwear? This is not a custom in Praetoria.
Masturbate with it, probably.
WHAT????
That is far from the weirdest fetish to exist. Also, Mei?
Do you not like it?
I love it. Don’t call me anything else or I’ll get upset.
Liam nearly fell off the bed laughing at Torric’s expressions as he texted back and forth with his butler-lover. “You should see your face right now. Priceless.”
Torric sat up, wings rustling indignantly. “People masturbating with my dirty laundry is not funny!”
“It’s a little funny,” Liam said, wiping tears from his eyes.
“Yeah well I’ll steal your underwear and see how YOU like it.”
“I’ll just give it to you if you want it. But if word leaks that you’re collecting underwear you’re going to be flooded with it.”
Torric pouted, folding his wings around himself. “I don’t want to be flooded with underwear. I just want… normal.
Liam’s laughter softened into a smile. “Normal doesn’t exist for you anymore, Torric. You’re the one everyone’s watching. They’ll worship you, they’ll obsess over you, and yeah, they’ll cross lines you don’t expect. That’s why you need people like me. To laugh with you when it’s funny… and stand guard when it’s not.”
Torric groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Why is everything in this world insane?”
“Because you’re here now,” Liam said smugly. “You’re going to find out there’s a market for everything you touch. Especially if you touch it while sweating.”
Torric peeked between his fingers. “That is disgusting. ”
“Disgustingly lucrative,” Liam corrected.
“I am not going to give out or sell my sweat soaked anything! And I already got yelled at by natives of this world for selling my feathers back on Praetoria. Though I think they were more horrified by how little I was selling them for than the fact that I was selling them at all.”
“How much were you selling them for?”
“A couple inferior g-grades each. That’s all the alchemists said they were worth.”
Liam groaned, burying his face in his hands in a direct copy of Torric’s pose. “A couple INFERIOR g’s? Not even a basic g-grade or greater?”
“No. They said that my feathers were worth pretty much nothing and the inferiors they gave me were just because they felt bad for me.”
“You know they were lying, right?”
“I know now. I didn’t know then. I was educated in many things, but the value of alchemical ingredients was not one of them. And no one knew I was a Luminari. I don’t think they even know what the Luminari are on Praetoria. They all just thought I was some freakish hybrid beastkin.”
Liam let out a strangled noise halfway between a scream and a groan. “Do you have any idea what nobles would do to get their hands on a single Luminari feather? Do you know how much the smallest feather in your wings would sell for on the black market? You could have bought a damn estate with what you were giving away for a pittance!”
Torric blinked. “...Well. Now I feel stupid.”
“You should,” Liam snapped, though his eyes were alight with laughter. “But don’t worry. I’ll personally throttle the next idiot who tries to trick you out of your own worth.”
“I think you’d have to fight Renethera for the honor.”
“We’ll work out a system. Trade off every other idiot.”
Liam’s hands dropped from his face, his expression suddenly much more serious. “Torric… if they’d known what you really were, you wouldn’t have walked out of that shop. A single feather from a Luminari is worth fortunes. Enough to tempt kings, guild masters, warlords. You cannot treat pieces of yourself like trinkets anymore. People will literally kill for them.”
Torric swallowed hard, tucking his wings tight against his back. “I didn’t know.” He replied, voice small.
“Well, you do now,” Liam said, voice low. “And believe me, there are people here who do too. You have to protect yourself.”
Torric’s wings trembled faintly against his back, the memory of how casually he’d once sold pieces of himself suddenly turning sour in his gut.
Liam softened, reaching out to brush his fingers along Torric’s wrist. “But that’s why you have us. Meidron, Renethera, myself, whoever else we end up collecting. We’ll make sure no one gets the chance to take advantage of you again. You don’t have to guard yourself alone.”
Torric’s throat tightened. “…Thank you. What am I supposed to do now, though?”
“Be careful,” Liam said, his eyes glinting with something sharper than his usual amusement. “Every eye is on you now. And not all of them will see a person when they look at you. Some will see a prize. Some will see a weapon. You are too naive, too easy to manipulate and trick. And you can’t defend yourself for shit yet.”
Torric shivered. “What if they try to take me?”
Liam’s smile returned, but it was thin and edged like a blade. “Then they will die screaming.”
Torric’s chest ached, caught between fear and gratitude. “That’s a frightening promise.”
“It needs to be,” Liam replied flatly. “Because someone will try. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but likely sooner than you think. The more devotion you gain, the more you will shine. And predators are drawn to light.”
Torric swallowed hard, a chill running through him. For the first time since he’d awakened in this world, he truly understood just how dangerous being who he was could be.
A knock on the front door to his apartment broke the somber mood, Liam’s attention going sharply toward the door.
“It’s breakfast. I can smell it from here.” Torric told him.
“Well you stay in here anyway. I’ll go get the food. Don’t come out until I say so.”
“Alright. But I don’t want to eat in bed.”
“We’ll eat in the dining room.” He promised. “Just stay put until I know it's safe and not someone trying to sneak in.”
Torric sighed dramatically. “What if it is just breakfast and it gets cold because you’re being paranoid?”
“Then we’ll eat it reheated, and you’ll thank me when it isn’t poisoned.”
Torric’s wings twitched. “Poisoned?!”
Liam shot him a wicked grin over his shoulder. “Stay. Put.”
Torric obeyed, though he hugged a pillow to his chest as his imagination ran wild. What if it wasn’t breakfast? What if it was someone with a knife? Or worse, someone with a laundry bag in search of treasure.
A few moments later Liam’s head popped through the doorway. “It’s just breakfast and none of it is poisoned. Come eat.”
Torric set his pillow back in place then joined the prince, following him to the dining room, which now had several carts laden with food. It was easy for Torric to tell which food was his, able to sense the devotion laced within the offerings.
The prince took great delight in pretending to be his butler in Meidron’s absence, serving up plate after plate of food for him in between his own bites of food. Torric easily ate twice as much as the prince in the same amount of time.
“Are you sure you got enough to eat?” He asked the prince anxiously when he was finally full. “You were so busy serving me…”
“I got plenty. The higher the level and grade you are, the less you need to eat, usually.”
“What is your level and grade?”
“I'm in E grade right now, but I’m really close to Evolving again. Only a couple levels left to go. What about you?”
“I’m still early E. And the only reason my level is what it is is because I got powerleveled in between leaving Praetoria and arriving in Solstheen. The only fighting I’ve ever done is getting beaten up by the other kids in the orphanage. My escorts definitely didn’t let me attack anything when I was still cursed. I wouldn’t have done any damage and I would probably have gotten one shot killed, as deep as we were.”
“You’ll definitely need some outside tutoring then, to get you in fighting shape as quickly as possible.”
“Yeah, that’s already been arranged, though I must admit that I don’t actually know what those arrangements are. I’m sure someone will tell me at some point.”
They left the remains of their breakfast on the table and Torric returned to his bedroom, putting all his clothes, clean and dirty alike, into his soul storage. Then he added his hair brush, tooth brush, and the wet towels from his rainshower earlier for good measure.
While he was busy stashing his items to keep them from being stolen by filthy perverts, Meidron came back, let into the room by Liam. He took over collecting items for Torric, grabbing his pillows from the bed, and stripping it of its sheets and blankets.
“These’ll get stolen too.” He explained, at Torric’s confused look. “Now transfer all your dirty laundry to me. I’ll wash it while you’re in your aerial combat class.”
Torric handed over a heap of shirts with a scowl. “This feels ridiculous. Who would steal my sheets?”
“Devotees. Thieves. Opportunists. Anyone who wants to smell like you for an afternoon.”
Torric gagged. “That’s disgusting.”
“Which is why I’ll be handling it,” Meidron said smoothly, whisking the laundry into his own storage.
“You can be disgusted. I’ll make sure it never touches anyone’s grubby hands but mine.”
Liam smirked from the doorway. “And he likes it more than he’s letting on.”
“Do not,” Meidron retorted primly. Torric knew he was lying immediately.
Torric narrowed his eyes. “You do like it.”
“I like keeping you safe,” Meidron replied, nose in the air.
“Uh-huh,” Torric drawled. “Safe. Right. Totally not because you want my sheets to yourself.”
“I don’t need to keep your sheets, considering what we did on them last night.”
“Or maybe you want them because of what we did on them last night. In Praetoria when noble men take the virginity of a woman they display the bloody sheets for everyone to see as proof of conquest.”
Liam snorted. “Praetoria sounds like it needs better hobbies. Who the hell wants to stare at bloody bed linens over breakfast?”
Torric grimaced. “It wasn’t breakfast fare, trust me.”
“Good,” Liam said cheerfully. “Because you’ve got much better things to offer than dirty laundry. Now come on, it’s time for class.”
Meidron and Torric ended up separating from Liam, for they had Unarmed Combat 101 to attend, while he had his own combat training class to get to. Their next class, however, would be Dungeon Diving 101, which they all three now shared.
When they got to the arena that the class would be happening in, most of the other students were already there, eagerly waiting for Torric to show up. Everyone in school knew what his four classes were by now, since most people had seen at least part of his tour the day before with the prince, and thus which teachers he was introduced to as their new student.
No one was wearing any armor, just their normal school uniform. Meidron said that the unarmed combat classes didn’t typically use armor because people were just using their fists and feet, and were supposed to be pulling their punches, literally and figuratively, since it was just supposed to be practice.
When their teacher, Professor Ashara, arrived, she was wearing nothing but a pair of skin tight pants that hugged her every curve and stopped at her midcalf, and a breast band over her chest. Her ample chest. Her breasts were practically lethal weapons in their own right. The rest of her body was totally exposed, but she didn’t seem to care in the slightest at how immodestly she was dressed.
“Welcome to class, your eminence.” She greeted him kindly. “Please step to the side with your attendant and wait for a few minutes while I get the rest of the class started with their training.”
“Of course.” Torric walked off to the side of the space the students were all clustered in, Meidron following behind him.
“Alright you lot!” Ashara called out. “I know we have two new students with us. Why don’t you impress his eminence with all your hard work and dedication? I want 20 laps around the arena for warm up, then you are going to pair up and start sparring. Losers will then pair up with other losers, and winners with winners. Once you’ve participated in three fights, do another 20 laps. We’ll keep up that pace for the entirety of class, while I help his eminence.”
Ashara strode across the arena to him once the students broke into their jog. Up close, she radiated raw confidence, the kind born from years of knowing no one could put her down if they tried. The pressure of her aura was intense. He didn’t know her level or grade, but Torric was certain that both were quite high.
“You’ve got wings, a noble title, and a reputation,” she said, circling him once as if he were a new weapon being appraised. “But I don’t give a damn about any of that in my class. Here, you’re just another body that needs to learn how not to get broken.”
Torric swallowed, acutely aware of Meidron at his side and the curious stares of the other students.
“I don’t know the first thing about fighting,” he admitted.
Ashara grinned, sharp and delighted. “Perfect. I like molding blank slates. Means I get to break the bad habits before they form. Meidron was in my class last year, so I know he isn’t an absolute moron when it comes to fighting unarmed, and shouldn’t have any bad habits, even if he did abandon me for the sword.”
Meidron’s tail flicked once, his tone smooth as silk. “Abandon you? Hardly. I merely upgraded to a more elegant tool.”
Ashara snorted. “Elegant until you drop it. Then what?”
“I make sure not to drop it. My grip is very strong.”
“Very strong.” Torric agreed, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
“Lalalala I don’t want to know how you compared grip strength with an incubus. I am definitely too old to participate in that kind of conversation with you and not get my tongue ripped out by your guardian. I might be able to regrow it, but everything tastes funny for the first few days after.”
Ashara shook her head in mock disapproval. “Incubi and their conquests. No thank you. I’ll keep my tongue where it is. Your parents might not care about you seducing a teacher far older than you, Meidron, but her eminence would absolutely care if I even halfway flirted with his eminence.”
She clapped her hands together suddenly, the crack echoing across the arena, before she rubbed them together eagerly.
“Alright, enough bedroom talk. You’re here to learn how to hit hard enough that your enemies don’t get back up. By the end of the semester, I want your grip to be strong enough to crush an arm with your bare hands. Then we’ll see who’s elegant. I assume you have claws, eminence?”
He nodded.
“Keep them sheathed. You don’t know how to use them properly yet and you could seriously hurt your sparring partner by accident. The easiest way for an experience fighter like Meidron to get injured by accident is by fighting a total novice specifically because you don’t know what you are doing yet. You don’t know how to modulate your speed and strength yet, and your movements and form will be highly erratic.”
Torric swallowed, curling his fingers against his palms. His claws were retractable, and he usually kept them sheathed, but the few fights he’d been when he was younger they had instinctively come out. And then he’d ended up with a beating for injuring the other kids in the orphanage.
Ashara’s gaze sharpened. “Good. Fear them. Until you master control, your claws are a liability, not a weapon. Treat them like live steel. Never draw them without purpose. And when you do bring them out for real, you go straight for the kill. No pussy footing around. If someone is attacking you that means they want you for nefarious purposes. Strike to kill, or at the very least disable so that you can get the fuck out of dodge.”
Torric’s wings twitched uneasily. “That sounds… intense.”
“It is,” Ashara said without a trace of sympathy. “And if you don’t want to end up gutted by your own inexperience, you’ll learn fast. Meidron will make an excellent tutor for now. I would like to request that you spend an hour or two each day outside of class sparring together.”
“I might not be able to do it every day, because I’m sure a lot of people are going to want me to do extra tutoring outside of class, but I’ll do my best to make sure we spar together regularly outside of class.” He promised.
“Good. Now, Meidron and I are going to demonstrate a basic strike block strike pattern. I want you to watch our bodies closely. How we move, how we hold ourselves. The stances our bodies take. After we demonstrate for a few minutes you’ll switch with me, and copy the same pattern against Meidron while I correct your form. Do I have permission to touch you?”
As a former slave, having anyone in a position of authority over him requesting his permission to touch them was even more alien and uncomfortable than finding out strangers would steal his underwear to masturbate with.
“I…” His throat worked as he tried to swallow past the sudden lump. “Yes. You have permission.”
Ashara nodded briskly, as though it were the most normal thing in the world. “Good. Then let’s begin.”
Meidron glanced at him sidelong, his expression softening for a moment before he slid back into a fighter’s stance as he took up position across from their teacher.
Torric spent the next several minutes watching the two intently, studying the way they moved, the way they held their bodies, the way they held their fists. They were going slowly, telegraphing each strike and block with great exaggeration so that he could clearly see how each one was meant to go. The two exchanged blows, switching between who was blocking and who was striking at an even pace.
The striker would punch outwards, fist clenched, while the blocker would intercept the blow with their forearm. There was no fancy blocking to deflect the blow in one direction or the other. They were instead just tanking the hit, trying to line up the block so the blow would land between their wrist and elbow. Even without experience he could already picture how they could move their arms as they blocked to redirect the blow, making it skim down their arm and knocking the strike to the outside, away from their body. A glancing blow like that would diffuse the force of the strike and could even put the attacker off balance and ripe for a counter attack.
After about 5 minutes of demonstrating, Ashara told Meidron to stop, and called Torric over. “Meidron take up defensive stance 1-A. Torric, try to copy the way he is holding his body and standing.”
Torric hurried over, wings half-flared with nerves. He planted his feet and raised his fists, trying to mimic Meidron’s stance.
“Close.,” Ashara not quite barked. “Your feet are too far apart. You'll topple like a newborn foal standing like that in a real fight. Tuck your elbows in, make a frame. Good. Better.”
Torric swallowed and did as she said, heart pounding. Standing like this made him feel strange, exposed and defensive all at once. Domivayns were not supposed to learn to fight. And a slave striking anyone other than another slave was grounds for immediate execution. Hell, you could get executed even for striking another slave depending on who the slave belonged to and how badly you hurt them.
Ashara’s eyes narrowed. “Relax your shoulders. You’re holding yourself like you expect a whip to come down on you.”
Torric froze, staring at her.
She stepped closer, tone softening just a hair. “This is training, not punishment. No one here is going to kill you for throwing a punch. You’ll learn to hit, and you’ll learn to take a hit. It’ll hurt a bit, but you will come to terms with whatever is making you struggle to fight, or you will end up a red paste the first time you walk into a dungeon.”
He drew in a shaky breath, forcing his wings to still. “I don’t want to end up paste.”
“Good,” Ashara said with a sharp grin. “Then prove it.”
She began manually positioning his body, correcting his stance, the way he clenched his fists, explaining that the way he had been holding them would end up with him getting a broken thumb the moment he connected with a solid punch.
When he could at least stand right she had him practicing just blocking as Meidron struck. He could tell that the incubus was holding back, a lot, but each strike still left his bones rattling. He would definitely be leaving class with his arms covered in bruises.
When it felt like his arms would break apart if he had to block a single more blow Ashara had them switch, so that he was the aggressor and Meidron was the blocker. For the first few minutes every time he punched she was correcting his form, physically positioning his body to where it needed to be.
With each strike, and each correction he figured it out more. Within 3 minutes Ashara was no longer correcting him, just watching him move with narrowed eyes and a pleased look upon her face.
“You really haven’t had any combat training before?” She asked, calling a halt to their sparring for a moment.
“No but I have a Skill called Fast Learner, and another one that’s called Karmic Insight. They’re helping a lot, I think.”
“I’d say they’re definitely helping. If you continue to pick up the patterns and forms as quickly as you have with the first block and strike then you’ll be able to participate with the whole class sooner than I expected. Which also means you’ll be getting into dungeons faster. You have to have a minimum level of combat skills before you are allowed to go into your first dungeon. And that standard is going to be all the more stringent for you because of who and what you are.”
Meidron rubbed at his own forearm where Torric’s last strike had landed. “She’s not exaggerating, Torric. That last one actually stung. Two more days at this pace and he’ll be giving me bruises.”
Ashara grinned. “Good. That’s exactly what I want, now get a drink of water, walk five laps around the arena and we will begin again. We’re just going to spend the entire class practicing that single strike and block. The goal is to beat the knowledge into your muscle memory, and not just your thoughts. In a real fight you won’t have time to try and position yourself for the perfect punch or block. It goes too fast. You’re reacting more than you’re thinking in a true fight.”
Torric grabbed a waterskin, his arms already heavy and trembling. Even holding the skin to his lips made his fatigued muscles protest. He wasn’t sure which would give out first, his body or his willpower.
After he’d slaked his thirst, he’d really worked up a sweat already, and they’d only been going at it for about 20 minutes. He walked his laps with Meidron, his arms feeling less shaky as they walked and his stamina points recovered. Even walking wasn’t the break he had fully expected. It didn’t drain his stamina the way fighting had, but a single lap around the arena was 1 mile.
When they returned to their starting point at the end of their 5th lap they went straight back to work. This time instead of having Torric only blocking or only striking, he alternated with Meidron between who struck and who blocked. Another 20 minutes later Ashara called them to a halt, instructing them to drink more water then walk 5 more laps.
The last 20 minutes of class Ashara had him just studying the other students as they sparred, both so that he could get an idea of where the standard was that he was expected to meet, but also so that he could learn just by watching. It was just as well that he was just watching for the last 20 minutes because after 2 hours of sparing and walking he was absolutely exhausted physically, his muscles aching, body covered in sweat.
When they were finally released Torric groaned. “Why didn’t you tell me our teacher was a sadist?”
“You get used to it. All the combat teachers are pretty hard core.” Meidron replied with a shrug. “They take it personally when a student dies in the dungeons. And that does happen. More than you’d realize. They are no joke. Even the high levels at the top of the dungeon. You probably won’t be allowed to step foot in a dungeon until you’re close to high E.”
It was possible to level up through training over monster slaying, it was just significantly slower and harder. Eventually your progress through training would slow, however, until it became practically nonexistent. Then the only way to level up would be through monster slaying or winning duels against other rankers. Or killing other rankers.
“When is our next class?” Torric asked. “I know its Diving 101, which is more academic based than combat.”
“They always build an hour into your schedule before your next class after a combat class. And you will only ever have 2 combat classes in a day, even if you are taking more than 2 combat classes.”
“Great. I want to get out of these clothes, they’re absolutely soaked with sweat. And then could I maybe pretty please have a massage until its time to go to the next class?”
“Oooh an excuse to put my hands all over your naked, sweaty body? Twist my arm harder, why don’t you?”
Torric groaned. “I was asking for medical care, not foreplay.”
Meidron smirked, tail lazily smacking him in the ass. “I fail to see the difference.”
Torric returned fire weakly, trying not to wince at the twinge of his protesting muscles at even that simple action. “You’re incorrigible.”
“And you’re sore. But I can fix that up, and without potions or healing magic. It’s actually advised you not dose yourself after that kind of physical training. Sure it will make you feel better and faster than natural recovery, but it’ll also interfere with your overall gains, slowing down your progress. Plus you can build up potion toxicity if you have too many too regularly.”
Meidron unlocked their now shared bedroom door, going in first to ensure that no one had snuck in while they were gone. When it was all clear he beckoned Torric inside. Torric went straight to the bathroom, stripping off his sweat soaked uniform as he walked, dropping the discarded articles to the ground in a trail of clothing between the front door and the bathroom. He would feel bad about just leaving them for someone to pick up later. Right now he just wanted a cold damp cloth to wipe the itchy rapidly drying sweat from his skin.
While he had a sketchy half bath out of the sink in the bathroom Meidron remade his bed.
Torric groaned as he lowered himself onto the mattress once he felt clean and more human, for lack of a better term, fanning his wings out across the extra large mattress “I don’t think I’ll survive a semester of this.”
“You’ll survive,” Meidron said smoothly, straddling his waist and kneading into his back. “The real question is whether you’ll survive the dungeons after. These aches are just preparation. Think of it as proof your body is learning.”
Torric muffled his voice into the pillow. “Proof hurts.”
“Good,” Meidron murmured. “That means it’s working. Now try to relax and meditate while I work these knots out.”
Chapter 9
Notes:
Content Warning: The main character is slipped a love potion, and enchanted wine, and Charmed/Mind Controlled by a full blooded succubus, then raped by her and her friends. 3 women on 1 man. Also, one of the rapists is killed while actively fucking the MC. That may be disturbing to some readers. It includes what some may consider graphic descriptions of the body and the person's dying This all takes place at the end of the chapter, so if you don't want to read any of that, stop when Sabra shows up. If you DO want to read that, well, keep going.
Chapter Text
He was well and truly relaxed and lightly drowsing 40 minutes later when Meidron reluctantly stopped massaging him. “We need to get ready for class.”
“Five more minutes, matron.” He groaned sleepily, burying his face in the pillow.
“Matron? Wouldn't it be ‘master’ while behind closed doors?” He teased Torric.
“Your touch was magic. I don’t feel exhausted and sore at all any more. And it feels like my soul is less full. Like I digested a bunch of power and incorporated it into my soul aperture.”
“It's one of my Class features. When I give massages I can boost natural recovery rates and improve the stat gains you’d made during the day.”
“Magic fingers.” He swooned. “I might need to marry you so I can keep them all to myself.”
He’d meant the statement as a joke, but Meidron froze on his back and a surge of tangled emotions flowed through him and into Torric. The weight of this body pressing into his back like stone. A spike of fear, longing, and something sharp as heartbreak pulsed down the bond. Torric blinked, no longer half-drowsy, and realized his joke had cracked open something raw. He could sense how the elven man’s heart thundered in his chest.
“Forgive me, Mei. I meant to tease but I seem to have hit a nerve.”
“If I were any sort of a lesser man than I am now, I would count that as you declaring your intent and posting formal notices among high society immediately. But I realize you are not from here and do not know what kind of reaction that statement, even as a jest, would garner. May I please request you not tease me with proposals again. If marriage with me crosses your lips again I will take it as an official offer.”
“I won’t tease you with marriage again.” He promised. “I realize that it would mean that much to you. We barely know each other.”
“If it were anyone but you it would be fine. But you’re a Luminari. What would you do if the child of the gods you’d worshiped your entire life descended from on high, turned you into a regular bedpartner, then casually threw around marrying you as a joke.”
“Let me up so I can apologize to your face, please.”
They repositioned on the bed so that they were sitting facing each other. Torric caressed his cheek with one hand. ““I won’t tease you with marriage again.” He promised. “I realize that it would mean that much to you. We barely know each other.”
“If it were anyone but you it would be fine. But you’re a Luminari. What would you do if the child of the gods you’d worshiped your entire life descended from on high, turned you into a regular bedpartner, then casually threw around marrying you as a joke.”
“Let me up so I can apologize to your face, please.”
They repositioned on the bed so that they were sitting facing each other. Torric caressed his cheek with one hand. “I’m sorry, Mei. If I had known those words would strike so deep, I’d have bitten my tongue bloody before letting them out. I never meant to make light of your feelings.”
“It’s fine, we will chalk it up to cultural differences. Mostly your total lack of knowledge about any culture outside of Praetoria, including the histories of your own people and how much they mean to the different factions. We should get dressed and go meet the prince at our next class.”
The easy camaraderie between them had turned awkward as they dressed. Liam was waiting outside their room. His gaze darted between the two of them. “Something happened.”
“I am an idiot, and we will leave it at that.” Torric answered.
“Torric accidentally proposed. As a joke,”
“Oof.”
“I’m sorry! What can I do to make it up to you?”
“A date.”
“A date? What is a date?”
“We’ll go out on the town, just the two of us and spend time together. Romantically.”
“Done.”
“Hang on Torric, if you are seen in public being flirty with Meidron, people are going to notice.” Liam tried to interrupt.
“Is polygamy not acceptable in this world? Would it be bad to be seen kissing him in public after I’ve been kissing you?”
“No. But if you are seen with two different people romantically then people will start to think that you’re collecting a harem. Then all hells will break loose. Everyone is going to be trying to get with you.”
“Then I’ll just need to count my stunning butler and equally stunning prince to keep them away.”
They finally reached the classroom for Dungeon Diving 101. Most people, it seemed, were already there, and every eye was upon them, or more accurately him, the moment they walked in the door.
He hadn’t known what to expect, but found it slightly disappointing that it looked almost identical to the classrooms he studied in on Praetoria.
Liam led them to seats in the back corner of the room, putting Torric in the corner, then taking the desk in front of him, leaving the desk directly next to him to Meidron. It would be harder for the entire class to stare at him by being in the very back.
“Redrilah, come sit with us.” Liam called out to what turned out to be a large, muscular Sol’Freyan woman. Large enough to block most of the view for the class as she took the seat directly in front of Meidron.
“I can’t see now.” Meidron complained.
“Didn’t you take this last year?” Torric pointed out. “Do you need to see?”
“Bring logic into this.”
“You’re adorable.” He replied, reaching over and pinching the demon’s cheek. He turned his attention to the woman who had joined them. “Hi I’m Torric.”
“Redrilah” She answered. “Redrilah Casoral. It’s an honor to be invited to sit with you, eminence”
“I’m happy to meet you. I’m sure his highness must trust you to be near me for him to call you over. And please, call me Torric.
“She’s one of the best tanks in our grade.” Liam announced. “And she would absolutely take a hit for you if something happened in class that required it.”
“I would, absolutely.” Redrilah agreed instantly. “Though, if someone wanted to come for you, I think they’d have to get through the whole class to do it. Professor Neagrem too.”
As if his name had conjured him, the professor appeared, calling the class to order. He smiled up at Torric. “Welcome to my class, your eminence. We have a test today covering the materials we have learned so far this semester. You eminence just try to do the best you can, so that I may see where you are at with your dungeon knowledge. It won't count toward your grade.”
He nodded. “I’ll do my best, Professor.”
“I’m sure everyone will do their best so they can show you how well they have been paying attention to the material. You’ve come at an excellent time for we are going to be forming our dungeon diving groups this week. There is a minimum score set down by the headmaster on this test for who can apply to join his eminence’s party, and if you manage to get into it you won't be able to start diving until he has been brought up to standards.”
The professor began handing out the test papers face down, then stood up in front of the class, summoning a virtual display with a clock on it.
“You may begin.”
Torric flipped his test over and began scanning it before filling it out.
Multiple Choice
1. Which of the following is the first priority when entering a new dungeon floor?
a) Mapping the perimeter
b) Fighting the first monster encountered
c) Establishing a safe zone
d) Searching for loot
2. The color coding of dungeon crystals usually indicates:
a) The type of monsters present
b) The elemental alignment of the dungeon
c) The potential loot tier
d) All of the above
3. What is the purpose of a Return Stone?
a) Revive a fallen teammate
b) Transport the user back to the dungeon entrance
c) Summon reinforcements
d) Reveal hidden traps
4. When forming a party, the minimum recommended composition is:
a) Two frontliners
b) A healer and a scout
c) At least one support role
d) One tank, one DPS, one healer
5. Traps are most commonly found:
a) In boss chambers
b) Near treasure chests and loot rooms
c) In entry corridors
d) Only in advanced dungeons
6. Dungeon ecosystems are self-contained. Which factor sustains them?
a) External food supplies
b) Mana circulation through the dungeon core
c) Imported animals
d) Artificial control by guilds
7. Which of the following does not properly describe a dungeon core?
a) Source of the dungeon’s mana
b) Anchor that prevents collapse
c) Destroying it clears the dungeon permanently
d) none of the above
8. What is the safest reaction to discovering a mimic chest?
a) Cast fireball immediately
b) Step back, alert the party, and probe with a tool
c) Kick it to see if it moves
d) Ignore it entirely
9. A beast tide occurs when:
a) All monsters in a dungeon floor migrate upward
b) The dungeon collapses
c) The core is overcharged
d) Loot spawns exceed safe thresholds
10. Which of the following items is mandatory for all registered divers to carry?
a) Guild license badge
b) Health potion
c) Mana compass
d) All of the above
Short Answer Question
1. Define “aggro” and explain how a tank manages it.
Aggro = monster hostility. Tanks manage it through taunts, high-threat skills, and positioning to keep monsters off weaker allies.
2. What is the difference between a temporary safe zone and a sanctioned checkpoint?
Temporary safe zone – cleared space recognized by the party, not permanent. Sanctioned checkpoint – guild/authority-marked zones, magically reinforced, stable
3. List two methods of detecting hidden traps in a corridor. List a 3rd for extra credit.
Methods:
(1) Probe with pole/weapon,
(2) Detect with spells (e.g., mana pulse, reveal trap),
(3) Watch for dungeon anomalies (odd tiles, seams).
4. Why are low-tier dungeons considered both safer and more dangerous for novice divers?
Safer because monster strength is lower; more dangerous because overconfidence and lack of gear/preparedness often cause deaths.
Explain the purpose of a dungeon guild registry and what information it maintains.
Registry logs help identify a diver and allow guild administration to ensure that divers do no take on dungeons or quests above their level/grade
Includes: diver ID, rank, cleared dungeons, survival record, known skills/spells, basic appearance and any incurred infractions
5. A teammate is poisoned during a dungeon run. Outline the steps you would take to stabilize them before extraction.
Poison protocol:
Identify poison
Administer antidote or potion if available, or use healing spells to cure or stabilize injury.
Extract injured teammate using a Return Stone, teleportation, or similar travel skill.
Bring to a healing temple or clinic for further treatment if needed.
6. Describe the risks and rewards of skipping a mini-boss encounter instead of fighting it.
Rewards: save resources, less risk now.
Risks: missed loot/XP, boss may ambush you or another party later, dungeon stability may worsen if not eventually cleared, mini boss will continue to get stronger and could evolve into a wild Boss encounter.
7. Analyze the role of mana circulation in both sustaining dungeon lifeforms and creating hazards for divers.
Mana provides energy for monsters, environment, and loot spawns in dungeons. The more mana in a dungeon environment the more powerful the monster, the more monsters there are, and more intelligent they are. Hazards of high mana concentrations include: mana storms, unstable traps and mana poisoning. Benefits of high concentrations include a renewable ecosystem, and being able to use the space for resource farming.
8. Compare the advantages and disadvantages of traveling with a small party (3–4 members) versus a large raid group (10+).
Small parties: Agile, stealthy, splits loot, but lacks redundancy. Easier to get overwhelmed by large numbers of monsters.
Large raid: Safer for overall group as far as party wipes, specialized roles, harder to coordinate, slower, attracts aggro faster. Monster fight is more difficult and dangerous to individuals, increasing risk of injury and individual deaths within the raid.
9. You discover an uncharted dungeon entrance in the wilderness. What are the legal, ethical, and practical steps you must take before entering?
Legal: Report to guild/authorities (claim rights + safety warning).
Ethical: Prevent unregistered divers from wandering in.
Practical: Secure perimeter, survey entrance, record mana readings, prepare proper party before entry.
The test ended up being relatively easy, but then so much of Praetorian life revolved around the dungeons that most of the really high ranking nobles were all divers, so he needed to be well informed about dungeons and diving for his potential future master. Plus he’d been drilled in dungeon etiquette and rules while traveling from Praetoria before meeting up with Renetheria.
It seemed all that studying would pay off here in Solstheen in this class, at the very least. He was one of the first people to get done, taking his sheet up to the professor’s desk.
“Your eminence, I wasn’t expecting you to be done so quickly. Was the test too difficult after all?”
“No. It was pretty easy. I was educated in Praetoria about dungeon basics as part of my basic education in case I ended up a slave for a Praetorian diver.”
The man in front of him made a face. “I’d heard you were enslaved by the Praetorians but thought it a nasty rumor.”
“It is true, unfortunately. Though I've been told that many worlds are preparing to march upon Praetoria for their crimes against me. I think I did ok on the test, but I don't want you to pass me if I got stuff wrong just because I am who I am.”
“Well let’s just go over it together, since we still have time.” Neagram smiled at him then began going over his answers. “You got a perfect score. Have you studied diving before?”
“My education on Praetoria included enough that I could have a solid conversation with my master about the topic, even if I wasn't ever going to go into the dungeons.Then I had to get here from Praetoria via the badlands. I was bespelled in Praetoria’s dungeon for safety reasons, but I climbed from floor 57 to 50 in Solstheen’s dungeon before teleporting to the surface. During that time my guide and her eminence Renethera gave me more detailed instruction on dungeon etiquette and safety.”
“I was worried we would need to assign you extra tutors to catch up with your classmates, but it seems they may have to catch up with you.” His professor beamed up at him from his seat. “Would you be willing to take some additional tests so I can get an idea of where you are education wise? I can give you extra credit towards the class for it, and it might get you into the dungeons faster.”
“Sure.”
Neagrem pulled out a stack of papers and handed it over. Torric took the rest of the period answering questions before handing the stack over to his teacher, who quickly graded it. “Excellent! You’ll be top of the class in no time. And not from preferential treatment. You got a perfect score on every test I gave you. Including material from Diving 201, which is your next semester’s class.”
“That’s amazing! Thank you so much, Professor.”
“It is no trouble, eminence. I believe your friends are waiting.” The teacher nodded his head towards the door where Liam and Meidron were waiting with Redrilah.
“I’ll see you tomorrow!” He grinned at his professor then jogged over to the door where his friends were waiting.
“What’s the plan?” He asked them when he reached them.
“Lunch! Then an hour break before you have aerial combat and I have a free period to do your laundry and run some errands for you.” Meidron answered.
“Redrilah this is going to sound like a very question, especially considering we know nothing about each other, but I feel like these two are lying to me. Would people really steal my used underwear out of the laundry for sexual purposes?”
The woman looked between them in disbelief. “What are the two of you teaching him!? Are you corrupting our Luminari the moment he’s arrived?”
“Vital survival skills.” Meidron laughed as they walked across campus towards the cafeteria. A breeze danced through his wings, tugging a few loose feathers free and carrying them off.
“Hey!” Torric exclaimed, launching after them. caught the 2 feathers and stored them with an irritated look before rejoining his classmates.
“Someone just used wind magic to try to steal my feathers.” He told them grumpily. “Sure they were loose but it still took magic to pull them free. My feathers would never just fall out from a breeze. It's impossible for me to accidentally shed them like a bird. I have to deliberately release it, or they have to be severed using enchanted weapons or magic.”
Everyone looked around suspiciously, but the paths were full students, most of whom were watching them. The would-be thief could have been anyone. And it was probably a fan rather than something more nefarious. Still… if everyone was to be believed such a theft would be a major deal.
“I’m going to put up an antimagic barrier.” Liam announced.
“Good idea.” Meidron replied, stepping closer to Torric. “Torric, you should let Renethera know. It's probably nothing, but…”
“Yeah.”
Renethera someone just tried to use wind magic to steal 2 of my feathers.
Stay where you are. I am coming.
“Renethera is coming. She wants us to stay here.”
The three with him nodded apprehensively. None of them seemed to be afraid of him, but Renethera was an entirely other situation.
The celestial dragon appeared less than a minute later. “Let me see the stolen feathers.” She demanded the moment she landed in front of them
Torric handed the two feathers over to her. They glowed with a soft yellow light. A few seconds later the glow cut off. “Continue with your day, young master. I will handle things from here.”
“Ok.”
“I will see you at dinner.” She added. “I was most pleased by your invitation.”
She looked Meidron over, eyes going between him and Torric. “Demon, you play a dangerous game. I will watch how deep you put your hooks into this one. If I think for one instant that you are going to take his mind or soul I will end you, and I don’t care how much he begs me not to, or is cross with me after the fact. Do you understand me?”
“I know where the line is.” Meidron replied evenly. “And I won’t cross it. But he needs me. Or someone like me. I am strong enough to protect him, and without the link I won’t know when he is in danger.”
Renethera held him trapped in her gaze for several moments. “He does need an age mate who can handle his needs.” She acknowledged. “And your kind is quite adept at managing one's needs and desires. This is a tentative arrangement, for now.”
“This is Meidron, Renethera. He’s my new butler whom I auditioned last night.”
Her gaze flickered over to him. “For now. Who’s the girl?”
“Just a classmate. We just met, so I know nothing about her other than she is the best tank in our grade according to the prince, and her name. She sat between me and the door in class, and promised to take a hit for me if someone had attacked.”
“If you think to be the young master’s tank you will spar with me first.” Renethera told Redilah with a measured voice. “That goes for any other student who wants to be in his party. Regardless of station.” She added, eyeing the prince and Meidron. “Or his protectors outside the dungeon. Do you have any classes without my ward?”
“I have a free period while he is in Aerial Combat 101.” Meidron answered.
“You will meet me in training arena 13 during that period and I will interview you. Which will include a sparring match. If I find you not up to standards you will not continue in this position”
“As you will it, eminence.”
“You don’t get to tell me who I let in my bed.” Torric told her crossly, grabbing his hand.
“I do get to tell you who is allowed to guard you and be in your dungeon party. And he and I need to establish some boundaries if he is going to stay in your bed.”
“He is.”
“And the prince?”
“He’ll also be staying in my bed.”
“And your dungeon party?”
“I haven’t promised him a position within it. But I will have final say in my party composition. Now this isn’t the time or place to continue. And I am hungry.”
“Go eat. I will be at your door at 6. I expect dinner by 7. It will be just the two of us.”
“As you desire, I will see you at 6. Good hunting.”
The other woman nodded and turned away from them, going to track down whoever had tried to steal his feather.
Lunch ended up being very subdued, with Torric worried about the duel that Meidron was soon to be having with Renethera and what might happen if she decided to separate him from Mei or Liam or both. Especially since separating seemed to be something that would happen at talon point and be very, very permanent.
Torric separated from everyone else after they finished eating, finding a private nook on campus that he could drag Meidron off to.
“I won’t let her take you away.” He promised, once he got the incubus alone. “Which means you need to do your best. I can’t help you with fighting by providing tips. So I thought I might provide you with motivation.”
“Oh? What kind of motivation?”
Torric pushed him onto his back, kneeling between his legs. He drew Meidron from his pants, mouth taking him in, to the hilt. Meidron moaned, letting him work. “I’m going to cum.” he finally warned, making Torric redouble his efforts, until the incubus’s salt speed crossed his lips.
“Win her approval and you can do anything you want to my body within reason.” He promised when it came time to separate so that he could go to his aerial combat class and Meidron could go duel Renethera or whatever she had planned for him.
“Well now I’m definitely not going down.” Meidron vowed.
They separated on different paths, heading towards different arenas.
“Your eminence!” A woman’s voice called out once Meidron was out of sight.
Torric stopped, waiting for her and her two friends to catch up. All three had wings, just like him. One had a brilliant cherry red skin and golden horns that were tipped in black. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and could not stop looking at her. She smirked at him. “I’m Sabra Eros, and unlike your butler, a true succubus, rather than a half breed.”
“Torric.” He replied, unable to tear his eyes away from her large chest that was only covered by the smallest breastband he had ever seen.
“They moved the aerial combat class, you might not have heard.” Sabra told him.
“Oh, I actually didn’t. Could you lead me to the new location?”
“Sure! We were actually hoping to catch you before you went all the way to the wrong spot.”
Sabra suddenly looked down shyly at the ground, twisting one foot anxiously and biting her lower lip. “I actually had another reason to try to catch you before class.”
“You did?”
“I made a cake just for you. A small one, small enough you could eat it in just a few bites. The inside is filled with an orange marzipan, and the outside a thick crunchy coat of chocolate topped with a bit of orange zest. I promise that one bite and you’ll fall in love with me forever!”
“I’ve never heard of this treat. I’d be delighted to try it!”
She pulled out a small chocolate cake that was easily small enough to be eaten in just two bites. “Say ah!” She instructed, pink heart shaped eyes boring into his. He opened his mouth and she pushed the treat into it just enough that he could bite down into the sugary confection without choking on it. Citrus and chocolate flowed across his tongue. The cake spongy, the thick hard chocolate shell that had been coating it crunching beneath his teeth. The refreshing burst of citrus on his tongue was exquisite.
He closed his eyes in ecstasy, moaning at the taste. She fed him the other bite and he could feel heat rushing to his face as he swallowed. And not just to his face. A warmth spread from his tongue down his throat, curling through his chest like liquid fire. His pulse stumbled, then quickened, as though the cake had rewritten his heartbeat to match hers.
Sabra leaned in as his eyes tried to focus on her face, her inhumanly beautiful face. All he wanted to do was make her happy. “May I have a kiss, your eminence?” She asked, licking her lips seductively.
Nothing in the world made him more happy than when she asked to kiss him. He swept her into his arm, pressing his lips to hers, tongue slipping between the, and eagerly exploring her mouth. They moaned at the same time, and Torric felt himself begin to swell within his pants. Especially after having just given Meidron a blowjob. He was already more than a little excited, and Sabra’s succulent mouth had made that excitement go from ‘a little’ to a raging inferno of excitement.
He needed her, desperately. Ached for her. Nothing in the world seemed more important than pleasing her. The desire hit him so hard, so fast, it barely felt like his own.
“Yes. Gods yes. Kiss me.”
Her lips crushed against his, her mouth devouring him. Exquisite pleasure surged through him and only Sabra’s arms under his armpits kept him from hitting the ground as his knees went weak, his aching cock twitching in his pants. He needed her. Needed her so badly. Would kill for her. Die for her.
Debuff Applied: Charmed
Debuff Applied: Sexual Slave
Debuff Applied: Mind Controlled
He blinked, dizzy. The words of the System notification blurring before his eyes, quickly drowned beneath the rush of her kiss.
Attempting to Resist debuffs:
Failed
Reattempt Available in 1 minute.
He didn’t care. Why would he resist? Her lips were ambrosia, her touch salvation. Every breath screamed that nothing mattered more than her.
The kiss broke as he stared into her heartshaped eyes and fell into them, dropping into the well of eternity within her soul.
“Do you love me, your eminence?” Sabra purred.
“Yes.” He breathed reverently. “With every fiber of my being. You are my goddess. My salvation. My mistress.
“Do you love me so much that you’d be willing to give me a child? A tiny little you that I could keep all to myself?”
“Yes. Absolutely. Whatever you want.”
“What about my friends? They really want your babies too.”
“Do you want me to give them one of my children, my goddess?”
“Yes, eminence. We all would kill to have your children. It would make me so very happy to carry your child, for my friends to carry your children. But your eminence, some people might try to stop us. They would be jealous of us. Of what we would do together. So we must fly far from here before we can begin.”
The words should have struck him like chains. The thought of leaving everything behind, of fathering children for strangers, it should have horrified him. Instead, his heart raced with eager devotion. Anything for his goddess.
“I will follow you to the ends of the earth, my goddess.” He swore fervently.
“Then take to the skies, my love and follow me. I have a bower hidden just for us far from here, and my guards will be there to protect you from those who would keep you from me. Who would separate you from us.”
“Renethera will protect you.” He promised. “I will tell her that you will bear my children.”
“No eminence, Renethera would stop us. She is jealous. She wants to keep you from me. From us. We love you so much and she would keep us apart. I could not bear to be parted from you, your eminence I would rather die!” She swore feverishly. “
“No, my goddess. I would never let you die. Not for anything. We must go far from here so that she cannot harm you. Once you are carrying my child she would not dream of hurting you.”
“Come my love, let us fly far from here.” Sabra cajoled him, leaping into the air, flapping her wings to hover above him, hand stretched out in invitation.
He took it and launched into the air, pulling her with him until they were high above the academy. “Where?” He asked, rotating slowly as his gaze stretched out over the horizon.
“This way.” Sabra told him, heading east, and towards the forested mountains far in the distance. They flew
Attempting to Resist debuffs:
Failed
Reattempt Available in 1 minute.
The notification came and 8 more times as they flew easy. Each one was ignored, though their frequency was beginning to annoy him.
Attempting to Resist debuffs:
Failed
Reattempt Available in 1 minute.
Charm Resistance has leveled up!
Mind Control resistance has leveled up!
Attempting to Resist debuffs:
Failed
Reattempt Available in 1 minute.
Finally she dove down at a sharp angle, wings tight against her back, flaring open at the last possible minute before she splattered against the ground, and instead landing lightly on the balls of her feet.
Torric followed her swift descent through the sky, finding himself in an encampment full of armed and armored demons. There was a single pavilion set up in the center of the encampment, which Sabra led him straight into.
Dimly he could feel the wall of magical shields form over the pavilion the moment they were inside it, shields that cut him off from everything outside the tent. Outside of the three women that were with him. An intoxicating incense perfumed the air inside the tent.
His body began to grow heavy as desire flowed through him, consuming his thoughts, leaving them so fuzzy that he could think of nothing but Sabra or her friends. Of fucking them. The two friends, (what were their names?) circled around him, helping him strip out of his clothes while Sabra picked up a bottle of wine and poured him a glass, filling the wine glass almost to the brim before bringing it carefully to him.
“Drink, eminence.” She prompted. “It will help you perform longer. And better. And it will make you more fertile, increase the potency of your seed and lifeforce.”
He took the glass from her, drinking deeply of the wine. Heat surged through him, and if he had been hard before he was iron. If he had wanted her before, now he was one aching black hole of need. He pulled Sabra against him, kissing her deeply, hungrily.
Poison Detected: Lover’s Submission
Attempting to resist.
Failed
Reattempt available in 1 minute.
“I want to fuck you.” He growled.”
“Not yet, eminence.” She cruelly denied him. “You must finish your wine first.”
He took another long draught of the glass.
Poison Detected: Lover’s Submission
Attempting to resist.
Failed
Poison Stack x2
Reattempt available in 2 minutes.
Attempting to Resist debuffs:
Failed
Reattempt Available in 1 minute.
Charm Resistance has leveled up!
Mind Control resistance has leveled up!
Attempting to Resist debuffs:
Failed
Reattempt Available in 1 minute.
One of the two other women dropped to her knees in front of him, taking his thick length into her mouth, sucking him while Sabra kept prompting him to finish his wine, refilling the glass each time he emptied it. Every swallow burned hotter, new notifications popping up warning him of a poison, of new stacks added, every stack another chain wrapping tighter around his will, until even the System’s warnings seemed like a nuisance he wished would stop interrupting his goddess.
“Good boy,” Sabra crooned in his ear, refilling his cup one last time. “Drink for me, love. Every drop binds you closer. You’ll never want anyone else again.”
Poison Detected: Lover’s Submission
Attempting to resist.
Failed
Poison Stacks x15
Reattempt available in 30 minutes
The number seared across his vision, but he barely noticed. Every swallow added another chain around his soul, tightening until the System’s voice was just an irritating buzz at the edge of his mind. He moaned, thrusting into the succubus’s mouth as she continued to suck his cock, his only thought to please Sabra, to obey.
He smiled dreamily and licked the last drops of wine from his lips. “Anything for you, my goddess.”
“I think you’re ready, darling. Come to bed with me.”
She led him to a bedroll, laying him on his back across the thick down mattress, wings spread out beneath him. She was naked when she straddled him, one hand rubbing his aching cock across her soaking slit.
She sank down on him, velvet depths enveloping him. He moaned, eyes closed in absolute bliss, hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. Dimly he was aware of something inside him breaking, and that thing was replaced by Sabra. She consumed him.
There was no longer Torric, only his desire for her. He had no will but hers. No need but her need.
“Cum for me, my love.” Sabra commanded as she rode him. “Fill me with your seed.”
That was all he needed to unleash, the orgasm rolling over him as he pumped his cum deep in her pussy as she rode him. He came and came in an unending wave until it began to leak out of her pussy and drip down her thighs.
Finally she crawled off him, and he stopped cumming, though his cock remained just as hard as before. One of the two other succubi mounted him immediately, riding him just as hard as Sabra had. The pleasure almost, but not quite, as exquisite as his muse, his goddess, the love of his life.
“Cum for me, eminence.” The succubus commanded. In any other situation, if she hadn’t been a succubus, and if he hadn’t been trained to cum on command no matter what, there would have been no way he could have gone again so soon after Sabra had finished with him. Especially after how much he had cum inside her.
He was moaning and still cumming when the fabric of the tent was ripped to shreds and he was suddenly covered in a spray of blood, the body of the demoness who had been riding him split diagonally through the chest..
The succubus’s top half slid away, her lower body still spasming around him. Hot blood gushed across his thighs, his stomach, his chest, mixing with the warmth of his own seed. For one horrific heartbeat, his pleasure didn’t stop, his body still thrusting inside the corpse.
The warmth around him, in him, consuming him, a warmth that had been an overwhelming mind numbing bliss a heartbeat ago was suddenly slick with blood, the scent of iron drowning out the sweet incense perfuming the air. The twitching corpse atop him convulsed as his orgasm dragged on, and something inside him cracked.
The shock of someone dying on top of him mid orgasm was enough to break the Charm and Mind Control compulsions and Torric began to scream in horror and shock, blood fountaining across his naked body from the corpse on top of him.
Meidron threw the body off of him, and then draped a blanket over him, pulling him into his lap as he continued to scream, stopping only when he had no breath left in his lungs with which to scream, and then only long enough to refill them before he began screaming again.
An artificial wall encircled his mind, numbing his emotions, and silencing his screams as Meidron rocked him. The numbing did not eradicate the feelings altogether, and instead of screaming he merely lung to his butler, sobbing into his chest, body shaking.
It wasn’t that he’d been enchanted and taken away from the university that had left him so shaken, or even that Sabra had taken him, or the other woman. But breaking out of the spells enchanting him to realize he was mid orgasm, cock buried in a fresh corpse, a corpse that had been made while it was fucking him….that was enough to break the mind of any youth, let alone one who had lived as sheltered as he had, all his time devoted into learning how to be the perfect slave.
Renethera’s blood covered body came to stand over him as he clung to Meidron, and she reached out to touch him. He flinched away from her, but she pressed on, seemingly uncaring about his fearful reaction. Her finger tapped his forehead and the world went black.
Chapter 10
Notes:
Alrighty we deal with the aftermath of the chapter before, so sexual assault, murder, kidnapping, drugging via love potion. Then we add in some good old fashioned revenge murder where Torric is told he does the killing willingly or he gets mind controlled into doing the killing but being fully aware of what is going on. Torture but not really graphic in my mind . Also a planet is kind of exploded by a god and its inhabitants turned into fuel to power up their kid.
Chapter Text
He woke up alone in bed, dressed in silk pajamas and a dressing gown. Someone had given him a bath, for he was no longer covered in blood. As for what Torric remembered, it was everything, but the memories were far away. Like he was watching a play that had happened to someone else. The content was disturbing, but he wasn’t really disturbed. It didn’t feel like it had happened to him, but some acquaintance he knew.
Torric may have been alone in bed, but he was not alone in the room. Meidron sat on the far side of his bed, Renethera directly next to his bed.
“How are you?” She asked with uncharacteristic gentleness.
“Fine? I know I should feel something, but I don’t. It doesn’t feel like it happened to me. Besides, it wasn't the sex that bothered me so much as the dead body on my cock. A necrophiliac I am not.”
“We had a mind healer install a bubble of artificial detachment over those memories while you were unconscious. It’ll slowly break down over time as you come to terms with the memories as they are. They also linked looped thoughts so that you can process the memories without your mind breaking again.
My claws acted before my wisdom. I ended her as an enemy, not thinking of what she was doing to you at that moment. I should have waited to kill her until the two of you were physically separated. That is my failure, and I want to apologize.”
“Who was that? Or rather, who were they?”
“Lady Ciedrak Oraliua, a succubus in the demonic empire, and two of her ladies in waiting, plus guards. They were trying to kidnap you. And a prime example of how you are helpless in the face of more powerful individuals. She is an A grade and almost level 2,000. You had no chance of resisting her. And that was without the poisoned wine.
Your Meidron saved you, though he did not do it intentionally. He set a magical hook in your aura, which would allow him to track your physical location and emotional and physical state. The dumb bitch broke the link so she could fully take control of your mind, alerting us to your ensorcelment and kidnapping.
You have some decisions you need to make. Or allow me to make them for you, if it is too difficult.”
“I don’t think I like the sound of that.” He replied, frowning.
“You probably won’t. Ciedrak may be pregnant. It is impossible to know as of yet, as it has only been a few hours. The magic that would have ensured she got pregnant had been immediately canceled, so it is highly likely she was not successful. But there is a chance she was. It is early enough that we could use magic or force her to drink a tea that would ensure that no baby results from this regardless. Or you can choose to let her live long enough to see if she is pregnant, and then must decide what to do with the babe.”
“I am absolutely not using magic or tea to make sure she isn’t pregnant. Forcing those kinds of measures on a woman is a very, very slippery slope, no matter what the reasons are behind it. What would you do in my place?”
“Are you dead set on the idea of a child so young? You aren’t even a century yet.”
“No, I don’t really want a kid.”
“Then kill her. The sooner the better. Then you don’t have to worry about the morals of forcing her to abort the fetus, assuming there will be one. It is too soon for the egg to have implanted yet, even with the magic. It may have been too soon for the egg to have even become an embryo.”
“Egg? Embryo?”
“Apparently your education wasn’t quite as thorough as we thought. We’ll deal with that later. With every passing minute, however, the chance of there being a child grows ever so slightly.”
“I…am not ready to make that kind of decision. And I won’t be for a while…” He looked down at his hands helplessly, picking at the skin of one of his fingernails. “Would you decide for me?” He mumbled, not wanting to meet Renethera’s eyes. The guilt and shame that came with the knowledge that asking her to decide pretty much guaranteed that the woman died was a crushing wave of darkness over his soul.
He knew he’d have to kill people one day in self defense, or in battle. But this was neither. Praetoria considered him an adult because they judged his age to be the equivalent of a 20 year old human. Races considered rankers below level 100 and 100 years of age to be children in most ways. No one expected children to be running around killing people. Even though he thought of himself as an adult, and he had seen 24 chronological years upon Praetoria, he was not ready to make the decision on if someone lived or died.
Passing the final decision to Renethera would hopefully absolve him of at least some of the guilt of Ciedrak’s death.
“She will die, then. But you will do it.”
Torric’s eyes widened in horror. “What?! No. Why? I refuse.”
“You will. I am your guardian, you will obey me. I can and will force you to do it using magic even if you refuse. You must harden your heart, and she is your enemy. And not just her. Every adult by the demonic empire's standard in her family within three generations will be bright here for you to slay as well, so that you might both get revenge upon her, but also make it clear that further similar attempts will not be tolerated. You will slay each of them personally in order to harden your heart each time, but also to gain experience points from their deaths.
It is not just Cierdrak’s family you will be doing this with, but the two women who assisted her. One still lives, who you will also be slaying, even if you cede the decision of her death to me as you have the first.
You must grow stronger, in body and mind, or people will keep coming for you, and as you can see, danger can pop up at any moment.”
“Why did they do that?”
“To get children off you. They no doubt were planning to try to erase your memory of what happened or enthrall you permanently and took you home. At least until someone realized who and what Ciedrak had enthralled and what she had done. Then the same thing would be happening. Really her fate was sealed the moment she created this misbegotten plot, her, her family, everyone who helped her, their families. So many will die over this and it will be at your hand.
His stomach turned. His fingers dug at the skin around his nails until they stung. “I can’t… I’m not ready-”
“None of us were ready the first time,” Renethera cut him off. “But the world does not care. And it will not care for you. You will strike her, and then her bloodline. Every adult who raised them, every cousin who might rise for vengeance. Their deaths will be your shield.”
He shook his head, trembling. “That’s… that’s slaughter.”
“That is survival,” she snapped. Then, quieter: “Had I hesitated in the pavilion when her bitch was mounting you, she too would have been potentially carrying your child, bound by chains and waiting judgement. She plotted to make you her brood stallion, her thrall. That cannot be left unanswered. If you show mercy, weakness, someone else will try. And maybe succeed.”
Torric’s chest tightened. The memories were still dulled, but they weren’t gone. He wanted to curl into himself, to vanish into the silk sheets. “Why me? Why does it have to be me?”
Renethera leaned in, her shadow falling across him. “Because, young master, if you cannot bear to kill your enemies yourself, then you will never be free of them. You must learn, or you will be prey for the rest of your very short life.”
“Fine. I’ll do it. I'm not happy about it. But I’ll do it. Where is she? Them, I guess.”
“In the university prison. We’ll leave now, change into something you won’t mind throwing away. I doubt you'll want to keep the clothes you wore during your first kill. You don't seem the type.”
“No. I am not the type to take those types of trophies.”
“There are some types of trophies you are interested in keeping?” Renethera asked curiously.
“We call them mementos. Trophies remembering a specific person or representing a happy moment that you want to remember forever. But let's get this over with.”
Renethera and Meidron took him to the university’s prison. That little feature had not been part of his tour courtesy of Liam. The two women were in shackles in their own individual cells. They went to Ciedrak’s cell first. She looked very much worse for wear, her body covered with dried blood.
Her eyes brightened when she saw them, no, when she saw Torric. “My love, tell them there has been a misunderstanding. We did not hurt you… you love me. And I love you.”
Debuff attempted: Charmed
Resisted
Debuff attempted: Sexual Slave
Resisted
Debuff Applied: Mind Controlled
Resisted
Even with the enchanted manacles repressing her innate abilities his knees went weak when she spoke. This time though his own innate resistances were able to help him put up a bit of a fight. He stumbled, but did not cave. Not this time.
“You are not my love.” He hissed. “And that was no misunderstanding. I thought you were a classmate, but you aren’t.”
“My love…” another pulse of enchantment washed over him.
Debuff attempted: Charmed
Resisted
Debuff attempted: Sexual Slave
Resisted
Debuff Applied: Mind Controlled
Resisted
Mind Control Resistance has leveled up!
Charm Resistance has leveled up!
“Stop doing that!” He snarled at her, the back of his hand impacting her face without even thinking.
It was hard to say who was more shocked by his action, Torric, who had never raised a violent hand to anyone in his life outside a few childhood fights and sparring with Meidron, or the succubus he had slapped, for having someone as far below her grade and level as Torric was should never have been able to resist her abilities enough to have attacked her.
“My love…” she tried to begin, tears welling up in her eyes.
Debuff attempted: Charmed
Resisted
Debuff attempted: Sexual Slave
Resisted
Debuff Applied: Mind Controlled
Resisted
“Stop that!” He screamed again, this time slapping her with his open palm, and with intent. “I’m not your love! I don’t know you! Stop trying to coerce me with your magic.”
“Try it again succubus and I knock you unconscious.” Renethera added. “Torric, stop playing with your prey. Unless you wish to learn to be so callous?”
“No. I don’t want to become someone who plays with people’s lives for no reason.”
“Then kill her and be done with it.”
“I carry your child!” Ciedrak screamed, trying to delay him.
He sharpened his many senses, focusing them upon the woman inside her. There was no child, no life. Not even the hint of the beginning of a speck of life.
“No.” He replied, voice ice cold. “You don’t.”
He flexed his claws, claws that he had been told to keep sheathed unless he intended to use them to kill.
“Use this.” Renethera advised, handing him a small brown glass bottle.
“What is it?”
“A poison for your claws so that she cannot heal the wounds as easily.”
He nodded gravely, then turned to Meidron. “Mei will you help me apply it?”
“Yes, eminence. I will help you carry the burden of your first kill.” His butler-lover replied with equal seriousness.
A small brush was built into the lid of the bottle and Meidron carefully painted the poison onto the tips of his claws.
“How do I do this?”” He asked hesitantly, looking at Renethera.
“You don’t have the strength to rip out her heart. Cut her throat with your claws. Stab them here, as deep as you can.” He picked up his hand and set his claws at the edge of the succubus’s throat. “Then drag them across her throat without letting up pressure. You’ll have to do it a few times before she succumbs. Even with her power bound and the poison she’s still significantly more powerful than you. But she is your kill. I will not help you. No one will. She will die by your hand and your hand alone.”
Torric took a deep breath, flexing his claws against her cherry red throat. Her skin was firm beneath them, it would not be so easy to pierce her skin.
“Activate Enhanced Strength .” Renethera prompted. “And Iron Will .”
He activated the two Skills, feeling renewed strength pour into his body while his mind and resolve were bolstered from the inside. He could do this. He must do this.
“Apply the Curse of Anti-Regeneration to half of your claws, and the Curse of Annihilation on the other half.” She continued.
“ Adrenaline Surge. Armor Piercing Claws . Now you are ready. Activate Triple Strike Slash. ”
Torric activated the attack Skill and three sets of four deep grooves ripped open Ciedrak’s throat, spraying fountains of black blood over his body. The attack wasn’t enough to kill her. There was no way a mere E could kill an A with a single blow, even weakened by bespelled manacles.
“Predator’s Majesty, Blood Hunt mode.” Renethera prompted him to activate the next Skill. “Light’s Mercy, Shadow’s Wrath. Wrath Mode. Now Celestial Strike.”
His claws ripped across her throat again, this time glowing with an ominous mix of blood red, yellow gold, and black glowing lights flashing in their wake.
Claws sunk into hot, bleeding flesh like a fresh forged knife into warm, soft butter, carving deep into cherry skin and slicing it open with ease. A fresh wave of blood flowed outwards, reopening the healing cuts from his first strike.
“ Celestine Rend .” She instructed. “ Rend. Crimson Slash. Frenzied Onslaught. ”
Renethera named attack Skill after Skill, and he activated them one after the other without hesitation. She was an authority figure, hers to command in the moment. He could no more have resisted her dispassionate killing commands as he had been able to resist Ciedrak’s seductive manipulations.
The only real difference is Ciedrak used magic to force him to do what she wanted, while Renethera used his training to obey those more powerful than him, controlling him not with magic or her pussy but the sheer weight of her authority and a natural commanding tone.
You have slain Grade A, Level 1,852 Succubus Demon Lord
Bonus experience awarded for slaying an enemy well above your grade and level.
You have reached level 100.
You may now evolve your grade to D, would you like to begin?
Y / N
He hastily selected no. He didn't want to evolve without getting Renethera’s advice first.
He was sweat soaked and dripping from head to toe with blood, looking more like a nightmare than a god come down from the celestial heavens.
Mentally he was exhausted, numbed, wanting nothing more than to retreat back to his room, to retreat into the comfort of Meidron’s arms and the illusion of giving up control over his life. His body had been shaking with exhaustion, his stamina and mana near critical with depletion from his onslaught of attacks. Now that he’d leveled up 39 times he felt amazing physically. Better than he ever had.
“May I be excused now?” He asked numbly, blood dripping off his body and onto the floor beneath him.
“You have one more to kill.”
He would have looked at her in horror if he had anything left inside him to feel horror after hacking Ciedrak to death with his bare hands. She’d started begging at first, then screaming, unable to struggle free of the bindings that held her while he slaughtered her. By the time she had died she had become little more than a lump of bloody shredded meat. And now he had to do it again?”
“Eminence…” Meidron interrupted hesitantly. “If you force him to continue in his state his mind may break.”
The celestial dragon paused to study him, as he stood before her, chest heaving, hair slicked to his skull with Ciedrak’s black blood. The scent of her blood, copper and sulfur, filled the room, the stench clinging to his skin, filling his nose. He licked his lips, tasting the corrosion of her blood upon them.
Took in his dull, lifeless eyes. The vacant expression upon his face like he was a million miles away.
“We will stop.” She amended. “There is such a thing as pushing a child too far too fast. I will teleport you to your bedroom, tend to your master’s mind and body while I gather sustenance for him. He won’t be going back to classes today.”
A moment later the cell disappeared and they were back in his room, specifically the bathroom.
Meidron immediately started the large bathtub to filling, lacing it with lavender and chamomile oil, before taking an unresisting Torric by the hand and leading him into the rainshower, which he turned on full blast and at full heat.
Bloody water began rolling off of him as Meidron cut the clothes from his body, dropping the bloodstained rags to the ground like the trash they now were.
Torric was a blank emotionless doll as Meidron carefully cleaned every last drop of blood from his skin, his hair, his feathers. Or at least every drop he could get from his feathers in the shower. He didn't say a word or react in the slightest as Meidron led him into the full bath, supporting his body as his wings soaked in the hot water, the remaining blood slowly sluicing clean and tinting the water while the incubus held the silent and unblinking Lumainari.
Renethera walked on them while they soaked.. “Well?” She asked.
“That was a rough first kill. Especially for someone who was raised to believe that raising your hand to a free citizen was a death sentence.” Meidron answered for him. “He’s been near catatonic since we got here and I began cleaning him up.”
“I have smelling salts to wake him from his shock. We will eat and prepare him for his Evolution. The experience he gained slaying Ciedrak will have leveled him immensely. He will be able to Evolve to D tonight. Which means we need to get him ready for Evolution.”
Meidron nodded, and they waved the vial under Torric’s nose. He started coughing and choking immediately.
“What the fuck was that?” He asked, spluttering.
“Smelling salts. You were having difficulties after slaying Ciedrak and that was the easiest method of handling it” Renethera replied pragmatically. “Do you recall what happened?”
“I killed her. It was… difficult. It took a long time.”
“Yes, look at your notifications. What level are you now?”
“One fifty. I can Evolve to D grade now.”
“Good. We’re going to eat, or at least you will, a very special meal, and we’re going to spend your free points and devotion points, then you will Evolve. Tomorrow you’ll take the day off from classes and spend it with myself and your butler. I do approve of him now, by the way.”
“That’s nice.” Torric replied absently, still feeling like the world was very, very far away.
The special meal turned out to have been made using a combination of normal food offerings made in his name, as well as specialized offerings of stat boosting astral treasures that would boost his stats even further before it came time for his Evolution to D grade. Once He had spent all his free points and everything else needed to get all his stats as high as possible before his evolution, Torric stripped naked and laid down on the floor of the rainshower in his bathroom.
When he evolved, just like before his body would purge much of the different toxins, spiritual and physical alike, that had built up within his body, cleansing it from him as he Evolved. It would be easier for everyone if he Evolved in the shower when it came to clean up, both of him and the shower.
Finally he opened his window and selected to Evolve to D grade. The world went black and he was once again suspended in the void between stars.
The void did not expect to see him so soon, he felt the ripple of surprise travel through it when he appeared. The surprise gave way to elation focused on his dramatic increase in power. It wrapped around his body, rubbing against him like a happy, purring cat, only the cat was easily 5 times larger than him.
All the other times he interacted with the void it made him happier, better, like he was wrapped up in the safety of his mother’s arms, not that he knew what that safety felt like. This time he was still too numb, too shell shocked by what had happened to summon the same levels of positive response to the void, or his interactions with it.
Concern entwined itself around his body, tickling over his ‘skin’, tasting his soul. The numbness, the horror, the fear, every negative emotion from the past few hours was teased out of him, the memories of their cause carefully extracted and examined while the void wrapped him up in its arms, cradling him like he was the baby that he had been named so many times, a comforting hum echoing through the expanse of nothingness.
The void rocked him back and forth, its embrace a warm hug, as the shock, the trauma, the anger, of everything he’d been through was soothed away like a bad dream. Dimly he was aware that the void was sifting through his every thought, his every memory, but he felt so safe, so comforted, that just in depth analysis of his most private thoughts didn’t bother him in the slightest. The void would never hurt him, and he could never be afraid of the void. Of his mother.
You have met the required threshold to Evolve to D grade. This is the first milestone evolution when climbing the Ladder of Heavens.
Your new evolutionary Class options will be based on the paths you chose to walk to reach this point.
Before you wandered aimlessly, walking the celestial paths of Heaven as you wished. Now each step must be made with intention, for each step traveled down the path leads you to your ultimate destination.
The path and destination change as you will change, becoming more clear with each step.
Once a step has been made it cannot be undone.
You cannot retreat backwards upon the path.
You stand before a precipice, a meeting of 6 Evolutionary Paths.
Each one represents a different aspect of your soul.
Select a path and set your feet upon it, knowing that you embark upon the journey of destiny.
Option 1:
Celestial Imperator
Role: Diplomat • Mythmaker • Empire-Builder
Primary Attributes: Presence, Charisma, Spirit
Secondary Attributes: Willpower, Insight, Leadership
The Celestial Imperator abandons personal ferocity to become the embodiment of divine sovereignty. Their strength lies not in claw and fang but in the will of others bent toward their cause. Kingdoms rise or fall at their word. Their aura magnifies into a living mandate of heaven: armies obey without question, courts see them as the voice of divinity, and even enemies hesitate before striking. Their very existence redefines laws, taboos, and allegiances.
Class Features:
Can establish a Divine Court that functions as a permanent aura, reshaping social, political, and spiritual landscapes.
Command mass obedience: not just individuals, but entire populations must resist Presence + Spirit to deny their decrees.
Option 2:
Eclipse Hierophant
Role: Battlefield Control Caster • Shadow/Solar Duality
Primary Attributes: Willpower, Attunement, Focus
Secondary Attributes: Presence, Spirit, Intelligence
A spiritual ascetic who becomes a priest of the eclipse itself, channeling the twin polarities of light and shadow as apocalyptic miracles. Their body becomes a living eclipse, surrounded by shifting halos of solar flame and lunar darkness. They are less physical than the Apex Fang, instead unraveling armies with tide-turning celestial rites.
Class Features:
Master of radiant + void casting, stack status effects when alternating between celestial polarities.
Call down Eclipse Cataclysms: solar storms, lunar bindings, shadowlight eruptions.
Option 3:
Eclipse Tyrant Fang
Role: Frontline Godslayer • Tank/DPS Hybrid
Primary Attributes: Strength, Vitality, Willpower, Agility
Secondary Attributes: Toughness, Reflexes, Presence
The Predator raised to its highest form: a divine juggernaut. The Eclipse Tyrant Fang is a beast of claw, tooth, and cosmic fury, shedding all diplomacy for the ultimate apex predator’s path. They thrive in direct combat, tearing through gods and mortals alike, each kill feeding their unstoppable advance.
Class Features
Godrend Evolved: strikes bypass not only armor but conceptual defenses (oaths, fate-binding, divine protection).
Blood Eclipse State: on killing a foe, gains stacking boosts until they are near-unkillable.
Option 4:
Starfang Oracle
Role: Visionary • Controller • Fate-Shaper
Primary Attributes: Spirit, Willpower, Insight
Secondary Attributes: Presence, Focus, Charisma
A prophet of the Celestine Bahumet, fusing fang and foresight. The Starfang Oracle turns predatory instincts into uncanny prescience, every hunt becomes a prophecy. Their claws strike where fate is weakest, their words bend destiny, and their allies march with unerring conviction.
Class Features:
Precognitive Combat: massive bonuses to evasion, counters, and anticipating enemy actions.
Can see fate threads, selectively unraveling or binding them.
Option 5:
Haloed Fang of Ruin
Role: Anti-Hero • Destroyer • Eclipse Predator
Primary Attributes: Willpower, Strength, Spirit
Secondary Attributes: Presence, Agility, Vitality
Not every Fang serves light. This path embraces the eclipse’s shadow, becoming the Celestine’s fang of terror. Instead of majesty and loyalty, they inspire despair and ruin, devouring hope itself. They hunt gods and kings, tearing down celestial order to prove the inevitability of ruin.
Class Features:
Predator of Hope: enemies lose buffs and morale simply by being near.
Gains life from despair, healing when foes break or flee.
Can unmake divine constructs, blessings, and miracles with their fangs
Option 6:
Eclipse Fang Sovereign
Role: Social Predator •Combat Duelist •Ascendant Monarch
Primary Attributes: Presence, Agility, Willpower, Charisma
Secondary Attributes: Strength, Spirit, Dexterity, Insight
The Eclipse Fang Sovereign is both courtier and killer, weaving divine charisma with predatory grace. In politics, their words strike like claws, subtle, cutting, impossible to ignore. In combat, their movements are the same: flowing, graceful, and devastating. They embody the duality of seduction and slaughter, a creature as terrifying across a ballroom floor as on the battlefield.
Unlike classes that split into “combat path” or “social path,” the Eclipse Fang Sovereign refuses compromise : their power thrives in overlap. Manipulating enemies in the middle of a fight, seducing an audience while covered in blood, charming a king even as they threaten his life with a smile.
Class Features:
Claws of the Tongue, Claws of the Hunt: Social rolls (Persuasion, Deception, Seduction, Intimidation) gain the same combat scaling multipliers as weapon strikes.
Verbal sparring can inflict negative Status Effects (Charm, Fear, Frenzy) that carry into combat.
Dance of the Predator Court : Switch between Velvet Court Mode (seduction, charisma, honeyed lies, irresistible grace) and Crimson Hunt Mode (lethal agility, blood-rush fury, killer instinct).
Seductive Predation: Choose a target within line of sight. In social scenes, you can ensnare their emotions (desire, loyalty, or fear). In combat, you mark them as prey: all attacks deal bonus damage and drain stamina.
There were several strong contenders in his options. And once again many were more socially based rather than combat. But he’d talked to Renethera about that now. Having noncombat capabilities would be a boon. If he had more social Skills and abilities he wouldn’t have been nearly so vulnerable to Ciedrak and her succubi friends. And the fact that the System kept offering him social based Classes meant he was actually cutting himself off from his own power by refusing to take them outright.
With that in mind he gave every option a fair shot, rather than immediately discounting them for being primarily social. Renethera had also said your intentions going into an Evolution mattered. So him focusing on balance fighting and social abilities within the same class before initiating his Evolution had been more likely to get him something that he would like and capitalize on all his strengths, rather than trying to pigeonhole himself into one role.
Her advice had turned out to be pretty damn sound when he read over Eclipse Fang Sovereign for the third time. It was literally all about not being forced to choose between the martial or diplomatic paths.
He selected that Class after several minutes of deep thought.
You have selected Eclipse Fang Sovereign for your Evolution.
This cannot be undone.
Would you like to continue?
Y / N
He selected yes.
Several of your current Class Features do not synergize well with your new Class Features or are now redundant.
Removing redundant Features
Initializing Class Feature Integration and Evolution Synergy.
Evolution Successful
When he came to, he was once again in bed, and still naked. He was lying on his stomach, partially atop a sleeping Meidron, his wings spread out across the bed and the both of them. Meidron was not naked, but was sleeping in a full set of silk pajamas and a silk brocade dressing gown. His wings were no longer heavy, and did not rustle like they were made of feathers as they had before.
While they still existed and looked like the same triple set of feathered wings that he had before, roughly, they were no longer traditional feathers. Now each feather appeared to be made of pure energy in the shape of a feather, with wisps of mana curling off each feather and fizzling out in the air. The top pair of the three were now blazing arcs of molten gold and crimson, trailing golden-white sparks like solar flares. The middle set were pure ivory-white feathers rimmed in a glowing eclipse black and outlined in neon violet. His third and lowest set of wings, extending out from just above the small of his back, featured feathers like oil-slick shadows, reflecting hidden purples, blues, and silvers, blending the hues of dusk and dawn into endless gradients.
Torric scrambled out of the bed, going for the mirror first, igniting a mage light so that he could see how his body had changed. His physique had shifted from lean-and-cute into predatory perfection. Sleek lines of muscle sculpted like a dancer’s body rather than a bulky warrior’s. His movements carried liquid precision, every gesture blending feline agility with courtly poise. He looked like someone who could both seduce and slaughter in the same breath.
His proportions had subtly adjusted, now longer lines to his limbs, a narrowed waist, and perfectly balanced shoulders and hips. His abdomen now carved into a clean, visible 8-pack, not bulky but taut and defined, like his entire body was designed to move beautifully while radiating impossible allure. His reflexive grace showed in the way every shift of his stance looked like a performance.
The metallic gleam of gold has softened into something more celestial and alive. His skin now a soft luminous ivory pearl, as though lit from beneath by moonlight, with an iridescent sheen that flickered between shadowy blue-black and radiant gold when he moved.
His stripes were no longer bestial silver, instead, they shifted and moved in the light, resembling the arcing halo that could be seen during a solar eclipse . Arcs of midnight shadowed striped edged in silver that curved like crescents across his torso, streaks of dawn-gold and ember-red that glow faintly along his limbs, thin rings of eclipse-black encircling his throat, wrists, and ankles like natural jewelry.
These markings were not static, they shimmered and shifted subtly like the light, betraying both his mood and aura.
His androgynous beauty had reached a terrifying zenith. His features sculpted to impossible balance: a sharp, noble jaw softened by perfect lips, high cheekbones that caught faint highlights, and eyes framed by long, thick, dark lashes.
His hair has become a cascade of eclipse-fire: strands flashing between white and gold at his crown then shading into blood-red and vibrant orange towards his waist, into soft twilight blues, deeper indigoes, and ending in night-black tips that just barely brushed the floor. It flowed like liquid starlight and shadow, unbound, constantly moving as though stirred by an unseen cosmic breeze.
His eyes were no longer mismatched violet and silver. Though his pupils still bore the same narrow vertical slit, his irises burned with shifting rings of molten gold, violet twilight, and obsidian black.
Torric no longer looked like someone touched by divinity; he was divinity incarnate, every motion blurring the line between predator and sovereign, saint and executioner, lover and nightmare. His very body a contradiction: graceful yet lethal, radiant yet shadowed, approachable in its softness yet overwhelming in its sharp beauty.
“You look magnificent.” Meidron said from where he laid on the bed, one arm propping himself up. “You’ll continue to get more and more attractive with every evolution, how much varies depending on your class. Considering the upgrade you got, I am assuming that you took her eminence’s advice and selected a social Class after all?”
“It’s a social and combat Class, for the discerning young Luminari who wants to do it all.”
“How do you feel after yesterday?”
“What about yesterday?” He asked, twisting in the mirror to try to examine himself from every angle.
“Ciedrak?”
“Oh that. The void mother dealt with that.” He replied nonchalantly.
“The….void mother?” Meidron sat up sharply, no longer looking relaxed and languid as he lounged in bed.
“Who is the void mother?”
“I don’t know. She’s the void mother. Every time I enter the void, be it to travel or to Evolve she is there. She embraces me. She loves me. It is like I am being held in the arms of the mother I never knew. When I was there she just held me and cuddled me, for what felt like years, soothing away all my sadness and fears. I couldn’t see everything she did, but she read my soul like it was a best selling novel and only when I felt safe and happy and loved did I get to see my Classes to make a selection to level up. Why do you look so terrified?”
“That was. You were just in contact with a celestine. Not just any celestine. Bahumet. Is my bet. This is bad. This is bad. Contact her eminence immediately.”
“What is wrong? Why are you panicking? I met my mother? She’s wonderful and kind and gentle and just thinking about her makes me feel so safe and loved like nothing bad could ever happen to me.”
“Oh gods people are going to die. Get dressed.”
“Why are people going to die? She was happy?”
“You came to her realm incredibly upset after having just been in both mind and body by a powerful succubus and her friends, traumatized from having just made your first kill ever. The mother of all beastkin might have made sure that you felt safe and calm, but she now has the image and name of every person who has ever harmed you in any way throughout the entirety of your life. She stole every drop of fear they left in you and left you only with happy and safe feelings. She is absolutely going to take all of that pain she took from you and rain down hell upon those who caused it. Contact her eminence, I’m getting Liam.”
Renethera? Meidron is freaking out saying that I need to tell you that he thinks Bahumet knows of me, knows of what happened to me, and that she is going to be coming to kill people.
How do you know that the beast mother knows of you?
When I Evolved, the void held me and comforted me and told me to call her mother.
Shit. I’m taking you to Bahumet’s temple, then you will remain within it until I or another Luminari come to retrieve you.
Can Mei come?
You may bring whoever you like, its your temple. I will be there in 5 minutes. We will leave immediately, be ready.
“Mei get whatever you need to pack ready to go. Renethera is going to be here in five minutes and she said she is taking us directly to the temple of Bahumet where I have to stay until she or another Luminari come to get me. Unless you don’t want to come with me?”
“Don’t be an idiot. Of course I’m coming with you.”
They quickly dressed, barely finishing before Renethera burst into their bedroom, breaking the lock on the door in the process.
“Let’s go, children.” She told them, giving them no time to prepare. Instead she wrapped one hand around each of their forearms and their dorm room vanished, replaced by his suite within the temple of Bahumet.
Temple guards burst in through the door immediately, weapons drawn. They immediately dropped to one knee upon seeing Torric. “It’s fine.” He told them. “I’ve just been ordered to stay here for a little while. Can someone ask the high priestess if she has time to meet with me?”
The guards nodded and hastily left.
“What is going on?” Torric asked once they were gone.
“When you evolved you met Bahumet. No other entity in the void would dare even think of telling you to call them your mother but her. She would know in an instant and things would go badly for the imposter.” Renethera answered. “Which means she knows. She knows what the Praetorians did to you, and she knows what Ciedrak did to you. The real question is where is she going first and how bad is it going to be? And how fast she will act.”
“Is it better if she acts slow or fast?”
“Slow.” The celestial dragon responded. “The slower she responds the less likely she’s going to start blowing up planets and begging forgiveness of their gods later. You just woke from your evolution so her attention has just turned from you.”
The entire world went black, as if the suns had just been swallowed by the void. The heavy oppressive weight of rage crashed down on the planet. Bahumet was here. And she was pissed.
Meidron collapsed to the ground, bleeding from every poor, every orifice.
“NO!” Torric screamed, pushing though the heavy weight of the celestine’s power to cradle him in his arms, layering every blessing he could on top of him, at full strength. His desperate action seemed to have caught Bahumet’s attention for the crushing weight of her aura lifted with a feeling of surprise.
“Let him alone, he's mine!” He screamed at the mind that enveloped him. There was an even greater feeling of surprise. A second later and Meidron was entirely unharmed, not even a drop of blood visible on his skin.
The clothing on his body began to burn off, and the outline of a winged cat, sitting profile, began to form on Meidron’s chest above his heart, the image solid black with an iridescent purple shimmer. Liam appeared next to them, clearly terrified and having no idea where he was or how he’d gotten there. He too had had his clothes burned off and the image of the cat growing on his chest as well.
Patterns similar to what Torric wore began spreading across their bare skin, covering their bodies save for their faces. As the patterns grew, so did his connection to the two men, to their minds and bodies.
Then Solstheen disappeared entirely and he was floating in the blackness of space above a sullen red and black planet below him. Torric somehow knew that the planet of Praetoria was below him even though he had never before seen it from such a vantage point.
The angry, sullen, miserable little world below him began to crack and glow, then shattered into an explosion of blinding sparks. Sparks that condensed down, smaller and smaller and into a river of energy that Bahumet fed straight into his body. Into his soul. An entire planet’s worth of experience points. Of magical energy. All of it feeding directly into him. Burning him from the inside out.
He screamed with the agony of billions of damned souls as they burned within him, as he burned with them. Then mercifully his mind went as black as the void he had found himself within.
Chapter 11: Stat Sheet! Feel Free to Skip
Notes:
Torric's new sheet now that a goddess shoved a planet inside his soul.
Chapter Text
Name: Celivor “Torric” Veythari
Race: Luminari
Bloodline: Celestial Tiger
Class: Eclipse Fang Sovereign
Grade: C Level 1927
Primary Attributes: Presence, Agility, Willpower, Charisma
Secondary Attributes: Strength, Spirit, Dexterity, Insight
Experience Banked:
Free Points: 3,676
Level Bonus:
+100 all Primary Attributes, +75 all Secondary Attributes, +50 all other Attributes +75 free points
Devotion: 14,736
Devotion Points: 127
HP 550,000
MP 650,000
SP 630,000
Physical Attributes
Strength 1900
Dexterity 1900
Agility 2500
Reflexes 1500
Toughness 1250
Endurance 1250
Vitality 1500
Mental Attributes :
Intelligence 1250
Wisdom 1250
Perception 1250
Wits 1250
Creativity 1250
Resolve 1250
Insight 1900
Social Attributes:
Charisma 2500
Presence 2500
Manipulation 1250
Composure 1250
Empathy 1250
Charm 1500
Leadership 1500
Magical Attributes :
Intuition 1250
Willpower 2500
Focus 1250
Attunement 1250
Affinity 1250
Arcana 1250
Spirit 2000
Traits
Physical Attack Power 2,375
Physical Attack Speed 315 km/s
Accuracy 788
Dodge 3,000
Defense 1875
Speed (Ground) 263 km/s
Speed (Flight) 295 km/s
Evasion (Ground) 350
Evasion (Flight) 400
Crit Chance 50%
Critical Damage 340%
Casting Speed 525
Spell Power 2188
Spell Save DC 47
Spell Crit Chance 32%
Spell Crit Damage 275%
Class Features
Revelation of Tenebris (Passive)
- You always know who watches you, mortals, rankers, gods, or higher. You may “mark” an observer, forcing them into your narrative, binding their awareness to you.
- Once per day, issue a Tenebric Edict: the universe itself enforces your command, rewriting causality so the target believes it has always been their will.
Predator’s Apotheosis (Passive)
- Every kill, every social conquest, every oath broken in your presence feeds into your core. Allies surge with divine buffs, while you regenerate vitality and gain stacking Mythic Momentum Buffs (Attack Speed, Charisma, Presence, Reflexes increase based on number of stacks).
- You are immune not just to poisons or charm, but to curses, hexes, fate-binding, prophecy, fear effects, mind control, or magical emotional manipulation.
Mantle of Demiurgic Word (Mythic Passive)
- Your words are now edicts. Give a command to 1-20 individuals and they must obey.
- Inflict negative status conditions with the right spoken words. Critical successes inscribe binding “clauses” into the target’s soul (Charm, Fear, Frenzy, Devotion), making the status conditions irremovable without direct divine intervention.
- Your rhetoric warps memory: failed checks rewrite what happened in the listener’s mind to match your truth.
- Beastkin and primal entities cannot resist, their instincts collapse into absolute submission
- Betrayals, revelations, or confessions you elicit through speech become conceptually irreversible.
Demiurge’s Dominion (Mythic Passive Aura)
- Allies within Presence × 20 feet radius gain near-absolute immunity to fear, domination, and despair; their criticals and morale are heightened as if destiny itself wills their strikes.
- Enemies cannot willingly oppose or attack you without passing a Presence + Willpower contest; failure creates narrative faltering, where their actions literally unravel mid-attempt.
- All bystanders instinctively treat any act of aggression against you or your chosen as a cosmic violation of reality. Courts, armies, and crowds realign in your favor.
Eclipse Mantle of Ruin (Mythic Aura)
- Divine blessings, group coordination, and party cohesion decay the longer foes remain in your aura.
- Spells and constructs unravel as if struck by paradox, their energy siphoned into you.
- A domain forms: within it, teleportation, invisibility, and deception cannot exist unless you permit them.
- Every passing moment inside this mantle escalates Willpower penalties until enemies collapse under existential dread.
Dance of the Demiurge Court (Toggle)
- Velvet Demiurge Mode: Your words become irresistible scripture. Allies gain doubled buffs to Charm/Diplomacy; enemies enthralled treat you as their inevitable ruler.
- Blood Demiurge Mode: You are entropy incarnate. Your attacks inflict unavoidable Crits, lifesteal, and soul-drain. Every kill creates a psychic ripple that debuffs all who witness it.
- Swapping modes detonates an Eclipse Paradox Shockwave, stunning enemies and rewriting the battlefield state: buffs and debuffs invert.
Eclipse Rend of Oblivion
- A three-strike combo where each strike is an ontological cut: bypasses armor, wards, fate clauses, and divine protections.
- If the foe is below 20% HP after the second blow, the third becomes Godrend Absolute: deletes the enemy from history, their existence unwoven as though they never were. Half of their accumulated stats and experience will be rendered unto the void, half to the striker of the blow, permanently boosting their own natural stats.
- When used on oathbreakers, heretics, and liars, each strike counts as divine judgment, dealing catastrophic true damage.
Fang of the Celestine (Ultimate)
- Summons an astral tiger avatar the size of a fortress to fight alongside you for a short duration.
- The avatar’s strikes cause shockwaves that disrupt magic, destroy fortifications, and create safe zones for allies within its pawprint radius.
- After the duration ends, its essence flows into you, granting a massive stat boost and temporary regeneration.
Celestial Ascension (Ultimate)
Once per day the Apex transforms into their full Celestine warform, a radiant, tiger-striped figure crowned with an eclipse halo and clad in living starlight armor. During this form:
- All attacks deal bonus radiant and shadow damage.
- Healing and buffs applied are doubled
- .Enemies of lower Willpower than the Seraph’s Presence auto-falter or retreat on first sight
Eclipse Sovereignty (Ultimate Aura)
In any arena, be it battlefield, throne room, or council chamber, your mere presence declares you the sovereign.
- Social: Words carry divine mandate; defiance requires Willpower greater than your Presence + Spirit combined.
- Combat: Every kill or social domination grants stacking buffs to Agility, Crit Chance, and Charm, until you embody absolute charisma and carnage.
Demiurgic Roar (Mythic AoE)
- Unleash a roar that is not sound but authorial decree: Fear, Awe, or Paralysis spread through an army as though reality itself has commanded silence.
- Lunar fires erupt into a bounded hunting arena where no exit exists. All illusions, constructs, and summoned forces dissolve instantly. The energy consumed fuels your regeneration and strengthens your auras further.
Fang of Tenebris (Mythic Ultimate)
- Summons the avatar of the Eclipse Predator, striding between shadow and sun. Its strikes do not just shatter fortifications, they edit terrain, erasing fortresses or inscribing safe zones into existence.
- When its duration ends, its essence merges with you permanently, stacking eternal buffs every time it is summoned in your lifetime.
Demiurge Ascension (Mythic Ultimate Form)
- You become a living eclipse crowned with a halo of scripture.
- In this form:
- Attacks deal radiant + void damage that ignores all defenses and armor, including conceptual defenses.
- Healing, buffs, and ally support effects triple
- Enemies of lower Willpower than your Presence cannot stand in your presence; they falter, retreat, or collapse into devotion or terror.
Blessings:
Blessing of the Divine Lineage
Channel Bahumet’s power to restore health, cleanse debuffs, or grant stat boosts to one or more allies. Scales with Attunement and Willpower. May also be used outside combat to bless land, forge alliances, or consecrate sacred spaces
Blessing of the Cherished Child
Channel Bahumet’s grace to heal wounds, cure diseases, calm fears, and fill the recipient with warmth and joy. Removes all harmful status effects and debuffs, bolsters resilience against fear, and grants a small permanent boost to Vitality and Spirit when used on children. It also shields them from detection by hostile spirits and curses until they come of age. May be invoked outside combat to sanctify nurseries, apply protection wards, or inspire courage in the young.
Blessing of the Eternal Aegis
Invoke Bahumet’s protective might to shroud an ally or allies in an unyielding barrier of light. Significantly reduces incoming damage, reflects a portion of harmful magic, and grants immunity to forced movement or displacement effects. Scales with Willpower and Resolve. Outside combat, may be used to ward a location, fortify structures, or create sanctified boundaries that repel evil or corruption.
Combat Skills
Rend
Triple Strike
Armor Piercing Claws
Crimson Slash
Predator’s Onslaught
Blinding Eclipse Strike
Battlefield Regeneration II
Efficient Predator’s Flow
Annihilating Uppercut
Celestial Sweep
Unarmed Attack
Feint
Disarming Strike
Adrenaline Surge
Predatory Roar
Killing Intent Projection
Meteor Break
Penetrate
Block
Curses
Entropy
Stillness
Enhancement and Buff Skills
Eclipse Reflexes
Predator’s Body
Adrenaline Overdrive
Iron Will II
Mythic Fast Learner
General Skills
All Speak (Perfected)
Perfect Recall I
Danger Sense (Mythic)
Automatic Regen II
Karmic Insight II.
Increased Experience II
Soul Storage
Appraisal
Pain Mitigation
Meditation
Scout
Cartography
Magic Skills
Mana Dominion
Conversion Mastery
Graviton-Abyssal Fusion
Holy-Shadow Synthesis
Spatial Mastery I
Elemental Fusion
Telepathy
Healing Magic Affinity
Holy Magic Affinity
Light Magic Affinity
Shadow Magic Affinity
Spatial Magic Affinity
Graviton Magic Affinity
Abyssal Magic Affinity
Perception and Sensory Skills
Spiritual Perception
Kinetic Awareness
Improved Sense Weakness
Thermal-Spatial Awareness
Predator’s Senses
Battlefield Awareness II
Improved Treasure Sense
World Compass
Resistance Skills
Impact II
Slashing II
Piercing II
Elemental Resistance
Cursed Flesh
Mental Dominion
Emotional Dominion
Social Skills
Mythic Persuasion
Silvered Eclipse Tongue
Commanding Demiurge Presence
Intimidation
Etiquette
Barter
Master of Masks II
Chapter 12
Notes:
I can’t tell you how much I appreciate seeing how many of you are enjoying Torric’s story. Every comment, every kudo, subscription and bookmark... it means the world to me. Honestly, I’ve cried reading some of your words. Most of what I’ve written before has gotten little to no traction, so knowing that people are not only clicking on this story but actually reading, engaging, and coming back for more… it’s more than I ever thought I’d get. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for following me on this journey. I hope you continue to enjoy Torric’s story as much as I’m loving writing it.
Chapter Text
He was drifting on a sea of warmth. Nothing could touch him here. Nothing would hurt him. It was just him and the void mother who encompassed all things. Dimly he was aware of something outside the void. Two somethings. Discordant harmonies within the safe warmth that had enveloped him.
The more time stretched on the more aware of the discordant harmonies he became. Like an itch just under the skin that wouldn’t go away no matter how much you tried to ignore it. He followed the thread of discordance to two lesser races. They were bound to him, their souls tied to his by the mother. But the mother did not protect them as she did him. They were burning as his soul burned, as the mother refined it in her crucible.
He gathered the two within his hands, closing his palms around them and enveloping them in his protection. He would keep them safe and loved as the mother kept him safe and loved. They would be purified with him, as was right, for she gave them to him. They had been terribly burnt before he saved them, which meant he needed to heal them.
The mother provided the knowledge he needed, the power he could supply on his own. But the void mother’s knowledge showed how imperfect his new pets were. They were too weak. If he wanted to keep them safe he would need to strengthen them. The mother provided that knowledge too. How to purify them. There were so many toxins in their bodies. The dregs of countless inferior mana treasures consumed over years.
She showed him how to heal them. How to strengthen their bodies, their magic, their minds.
She held him safe in her hands while she reforged him with the heart of a dying world, of dying worlds, and he, in turn, took these two lesser beings and reforged them, never stopping to think if he should, or if he could, or if he would ruin them. He had never reformed a life before, let alone two at once. Still, he continued on with quiet assurance. The mother said he was doing everything right, and she would never lie to him.
He began to grow tired. He had been holding onto his two new souls for so long. The mother said she was almost done reforging him. He just needed to hold on a little longer. Needed to hold onto them for just a little longer.
Finally the heavy aura around him began to grow lighter, and the safe warmth began to withdraw. He began swimming up towards consciousness, up towards the material world, until he finally burst through the surface of the astral seas.
Torric lunged upwards with a gasp, as if he really had just surfaced from having been swimming deep below the ocean’s waves. He knew something momentous had happened, but not what. His body was different. Lighter and yet heavier. Like his body was made of air but his soul had been melted down and reforged into voidstone, the densest, heaviest he knew of from Praetoria.
His eyes fluttered open to find he was back in his room in the temple on Solstheen. Meidron and Liam were curled up in bed with him, or at least he thought it was them. Their bodies and faces had the same general shape as the two men he was coming to know, but now they were different. Like they had been drawn through a crucible and through the other side, purified, cleansed. Made perfect.
He reached out and stroked Meidron’s cheek. Golden eyes fluttered open to meet his. The incubus surged upwards in an instant, wrapping his arms around Torric’s neck with a shout. “You’re awake!”
“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“It’s been three weeks since the beast mother returned you to Solstheen.” He explained. “Three months since she took you. Well, she took all three of us. Liam and I almost died, but then at the last minute you saved us. We woke up a week ago, but you didn’t. Her eminence said this was normal, that you were merely communing with the beast mother. What do you remember?”
“Not much. What happened?”
“What’s the last thing you remember?” Liam asked, sitting up.
“Bahumet showed up and me telling her that she couldn’t have Mei. Then I was burning. Then I was floating. Then I was putting the two of you back together. Then I was here and it was now.”
“A lot has happened.” Liam said seriously. “Praetoria is gone. All connections to it within the lattice, every trace of it. Well, not every trace of it. Bahumet killed Praetoria and ran it all through you, forcibly redirecting your evolution through the heavenly paths. You look very different now.”
“What happened other than Praetoria?”
“Bahumet destroyed a third of the demon empire.” Meidron answered. “Everyone she killed was turned into a soul gem and crammed inside your soul aperture. It’ll be thousands of years for you to finish digesting them all. You wouldn’t have to do a single bit of training for the next several thousand millenia and you would just wake up at a higher level every day, just from absorbing the energy that she has placed within you.”
“We’ve been back for three weeks…but we were gone for months. The universe knew you existed, for Bahumet brought you with her wherever she traveled. Or at least, your body was with her. It was evident to everyone with eyes to see that you, yourself, was nowhere to be seen.” Liam continued.
“And we were missing with you until she dumped us at her temple 3 weeks ago.” Meidron finished. “Everyone thought the two of us were dead, that she had burned our bodies to ashes.”
“I remember you burning with me.” He said softly, reaching out to gently stroke Meidron’s face with one hand, cupping Liam’s with the other. “I was fine but you were burning and burning. The mother said that if I wanted you to survive I had to save you myself.”
“She showed me how. How to remake you. To reforge you. There was so much that had been stripped from you that I had to replace some of your essence with my own. Is that… ok? Are you mad at me?”
Meidron laughed lightly. “Do you know how many people can say they had their bodies personally reforged in the heat of dying worlds by a Luminari while they were being force evolved by a celestine?”
“The beast mother taking you would have always happened.” Liam added. “It happens to every Luminari when their celestine parent recognizes them for the first time. The void parents take their children and those connected to their children and reforge them. Most who are taken alongside a Luminari die. To survive already puts us on a pedestal above all other rankers.”
“You protected us.” Meidron continued. “Imbued us with your personal power. We are as much your children now as you are the beast mother’s.”
“Well that’s awkward.”
The incubus cocked his head to the side. “What is awkward?”
“I can’t exactly fuck my children. That would be gross.”
Shocked silence rang through the room. “Eminence, may I ask how you feel about us?” Liam asked carefully.
“Don’t call me eminence. I don’t want children or toys or whatever else you think you are to me. I remade you to be my friends. My companions. So that you can stand alongside me and not be ripped apart just by being next to me.”
“Did you know that some people do come back after being reforged with their Luminari such as we were?” Meidron explained carefully. “Those who do exist not as a separate entity but as an extension of their bondmaster’s will. They become akin to a ranker’s spirit familiar to a summoner.”
“But when we woke, while we were connected to you, we were not consumed by you. We retained our memories, our personalities, our sense of self outside you. It was and is very confusing to many. Including us. We haven’t been able to leave the room or interact with anyone outside her eminence because no one knows what to do with us. We are an impossibility that shouldn’t exist.”
“The mother showed me many paths for your reforging. I chose the path that led to friendship and love over dominance and control. You are stronger, but also one of the few who can resist me. My wills. My desires.
The only way I could keep you as you were and not consume your spirits was to infuse a portion of my power into your souls. You are bound to me for all eternity, you won’t die until I die. But the trade off is I cannot control you with absolute authority as my brethren could have controlled their soul companions instead of consuming them. I can kill you, I can heal you, but I cannot Command you.”
“You should be treating and viewing us as nothing more than a living extension of your will. We shouldn’t have personality or thoughts outside of you.” Liam tried to explain.
“Thats stupid. Why would I want to suppress you like that? If you have no mind or will of your own then what would have been the point in saving you?”
Meidron’s mouth hungrily claimed his, then Liam pulled them apart so that he could kiss Torric as well. They pulled him back and forth between them, kissing him in turn, until Torric’s body burned with an internal fire that had nothing to do with his consumption of the cosmos and everything to do with the men who passed him between their loving embraces.
He spent a great deal of time acquainting himself to both men’s new and improved bodies, and how his own new body would react. He discovered every new ticklish spot, every sensitized zone that would make them close their eyes and moan with need and desire. Tasted every inch of their skin. Teased power into, out of, and through them, bringing them over and over with nothing but the touch of his power infused hands, until both Liam and Meidron were left as quivering messes on the mattress.
He traced the inky sigils on Meidron’s scarlet skin when they were finished, marks that fused the incubus’s soul with his own. They were joined as one, yet separate. He could feel everything of the man in his arms, but he could not control him, could not force him to act without tearing them both apart.
“You’re… beautiful,” Meidron whispered, voice trembling like a prayer.
Torric glanced down at himself and stilled. His body was no longer skin and bone and musculature at all but inky darkness, the night sky made solid and turned to living breathing flesh, every tiger-stripe a constellation of burning stars.
His hair spilled like cold fire, pale and luminous, ghost-light cascading across the bed as though woven from strands of starlight itself. Behind him, something heavy shifted, then three pairs of vast wings unfurled one by one, the chamber filling with the glow of the eclipse. Solar gold, lunar silver, and void-crystal shadow spilled across the walls, warping the mage lights into a corona.
Meidron gasped. Liam’s breath caught, and his hand tightened on Torric’s wrist, as if anchoring himself against the impossible.
In the mirror across the bed, Torric saw a stranger: a god wrapped in the skin of a tigerkin, hair like ghostly fire, wings blotting out the chamber behind him. For a heartbeat he did not recognize his own reflection.
He had changed again. Skipping D grade entirely, he had leapt to Late C. His body was the deep ebony of the void between stars, his stripes constellations burning on living flesh. His hair fell in unbound waves of spectral white, each strand flickering like a wisp of ghost-flame. And his eyes… they no longer bore sclera or iris, but swirling nebulae, a whole cosmos contained within their shape.
“I think you’re the beautiful one.” Torric whispered back, entwining long ebony fingers with scarlet.
His skin glowed beneath Torric’s touch with a deep scarlet radiance, not dull flesh but something closer to living emberstone, heatless yet alive none the less. Across that crimson canvas coiled black sigils of arcane power, crawling across his skin like living tattoos, their lines shifting and reshaping as though written in ink poured from the void. When his heart quickened they pulsed faintly, casting shadows of light across his chest.
Over his breast lay the mark that the beast mother had branded upon his body, marking Meidron as forever Torric’s. A black cat, solid as midnight, etched into his flesh with wings of voidfire sprouting wide across his ribs. The wings flickered with white flame that burned cold, as though frost had been transmuted into fire. When the brand stirred, the entire lattice of sigils across his body seemed to answer, whispering power through him like veins of black lightning.
Meidron lifted his head, and the seductive charm he once wore had been obliterated. His eyes were lanterns of twilight sclera drowned in shadow, irises burning with gold fire, pupils slit like a predator’s gaze. They pinned Torric in place, both worshipful and hungry, the gaze of a celestial predator who could seduce or consume with equal ease.
His hair fell loose about his shoulders, no longer the silken strands Torric remembered but a mane of midnight flame streaked with faint silver. It writhed as if alive, stirred by unseen winds, scarlet threads flashing through the darkness like sparks. When he moved, the air itself seemed to ripple with it, a halo of shadow trailing his every gesture.
From his temples arched two horns of obsidian black, polished to a mirror sheen, lines of silver running like veins along their twisting curve. They swept back like a crown forged from the night sky, regal rather than monstrous. A tail lashed lazily behind him, tipped with a plume of cold flame.
Claws like volcanic glass caught the light as he reached for Torric, each talon tipped finger gleaming with its own trapped star. His presence was a contradiction, the sanctity of a temple hymn laced with the temptation of forbidden flesh. Shadows gathered around him like incense smoke, threaded with silver beams, so that he seemed cloaked in the very night sky itself.
When he smiled, it was not the half-breed’s sly grin Torric once knew, but the slow, inexorable curve of a being reforged. No longer half Sol’Freyan, half incubus. Now entirely 100% pure bred celestial demon, scarlet and radiant, sigils alive across his skin, wings burning with voidfire. Beautiful and terrible, and his.
“Keep looking at him like that and I’m going to get jealous.” Liam purred in his ear. A teasing lie, neither man could become jealous over the other any more than they could hate the being that had reforged them anew.
Once an ordinary Sol’freyan elf, if a prince of a planet could be called ordinary, his body had been elevated just as Meidron’s had. Now he was not just an astral elf, but a celestial astral elf. His skin, once pale like moonlight on steel, now shimmered with an inner luster, as though every inch of him had been hammered from starlight and tempered in the cold forge of the void. Where once he had been merely handsome, now he radiated a sovereign beauty that eclipsed bloodlines and thrones alike.
The fine lines of his face had sharpened into impossible symmetry: high cheekbones carved in silver relief, jawline strong and unwavering, lips touched with the faint sheen of dawn. His eyes had become galaxies to match the stars that swirled within Torric’s own eyes. Irises swirled with nebulae of indigo and argent, ringed with molten silver that glowed softly even in darkness.
His hair now cascaded in a fall of radiant strands that seemed woven from comets’ tails. At the crown, it shone white-gold, but as it spilled lower it bled into hues of shifting astral flame: pale blues, faint violets, and finally a darkness like the deep void, as though his hair itself reflected the cycle of stars from birth to death. It moved as if under water, flowing in defiance of still air, a halo of movement that marked him unmistakably as touched by higher realms.
His body had been sculpted anew, still lean and martial, but now carrying the presence of a celestial weapon given flesh. Across his chest and arms shimmered faint constellations etched into his skin, glowing softly like living star-maps. When he drew a breath, the patterns shifted, realigning like the heavens themselves. Armor was no longer necessary; his very flesh bore the regality of plate, his muscles strung with a light that felt unbreakable. Upon his chest, directly over his heart was a matching brand to what Meidron wore.
He was still Liam, prince, warrior, loyal companion, yet more. He was a celestial astral elf, a sovereign of the night sky, haloed in living starlight.
Both men’s bloodlines had been elevated to the highest order without them becoming Luminari themselves, which was impossible without the direct intervention of a celestine.
“The two of you are bound to me.” Torric looked between the two men he had transformed. “The mother made you mine and stitched you into my soul. I took everything from you without a discussion, made you anew. You are my slaves in everything but name.”
Meidron coiled his hand in Torric’s hair, dragging his face closer. “We may belong to you, but we are the only nondivine beings on the plane that are not bound to obey you.
Who can defy you.
Who can force you to submit.”
His grip tightened with each sentence, tension pulling on each strand. Every subtle tug of his hair made Torric melt slightly more inside. “You made us powerful enough to act as your foil. We can make you let go. We can pull you back.”
“You own our souls.” Liam agreed curling against his back, flattening his wings between their bodies. “But we hold your leash.”
“So you aren’t mad at what I did to you?”
“Why do you ask questions to which you already know the answer?” Meidron asked in turn.
“Because sometimes it's nice to just be asked, rather than having someone constantly use magic to monitor every aspect of your moods, physical, and emotional wellbeing.
“Well not only did we get a massive boost in power and virtual immortality, but the alternative was death, so I’m pretty happy with the trade off. Even better it puts me firmly outside the line of succession so even if I wasn’t near immortal because we are soul bound my survivability has just shot way up.” Liam replied happily. “And now you have two people you know you can trust without question to never betray you.”
“So Praetoria is gone, broken down into raw elements and fed into my soul to fuel my evolution. What else?”
“A third of the demonic empire has been wiped out. Most notably succubi held spaces, though not incubi. The bloodlines of the three who attacked you have been eradicated from existence, every member, living, dead or undead. If you shared even a drop of familial blood with them, you died. The empire has transferred what remains of the fallen’s assets to you in an offering of appeasement to prevent future misunderstandings.” Liam explained.
“I didn’t really mean to cause a genocide let alone two….” He whispered.
“Ciedrak brought her fate upon herself in her own greed. That she brought so many low with her is a debt on her soul, not yours. You did not tell the beast mother to conquer so many worlds in her wrath. Undoubtedly she kept you insentient so that you could not try to stop her. She even was gracious enough to limit herself to only one third for it was only three who harmed you.The demon empire holds the largest portion of the demonic populations, but not all of them.” Liam comforted him.
“The only people being blamed for the deaths are the three who brought the beast mother’s wrath down upon the empire, and they’re all dead now. The emperor has had their lineages cursed posthumously.” Meidron added.
“So the universe is in shambles?”
“Only parts of it. Things calmed down when the beast mother brought you home for your body to recover from her transformation. It's unlikely she will be so active again for several centuries at the very least. Most places are recovering now.” Liam answered, massaging his shoulders.
“A few dozen planets destroyed after contact with an angry celestine is actually getting off pretty light.” Meidron agreed.
“What about here on Solstheen?”
Meidron shrugged. “Mostly everyone was waiting to see what or who woke up when you opened your eyes. That Liam and I retained our personalities, independence, and sanity has thrown a lot of people off. “
“I’m still me, I think? Just stronger.”
You are awake.
Renethera’s message flashed across his vision.
Yes.
Are you still Torric, or have you become Celivor Veythari?
Bit of both, I think. I know who I am, remember who I am, but I am more than who I was, and there are all these thoughts and memories within my mind that I don't recognize despite knowing, somehow, that the memories are all 100% real and authentic. I am still me, but I am more than the sum of my parts.
Are you going to go on demon hunting rampage if I open the pocket dimension you are in? Or any other kind of rampage?
Not planning on it. Unless you count the amount of food I want to demolish going on a rampage. I haven’t had anything to eat that wasn’t energy based in months.
I will have food prepared. When it is ready I will open the pocket dimension and you will be able to emerge. We must discuss the future of you and your luminature.
Luminature?
The familiars you forged using pieces of your own soul, the raw energy of creation, and the fuel of the 46 worlds that Bahumet slew to power your evolution. Strictly speaking they aren’t really people any more, just sentient investitures of your power.
Well I’m starving so this important conversation can occur while I'm eating or after but not before.
You might have Evolved but you are clearly still a child.
A very powerful, sexy child.
You are delicious candy and the whole world wants a taste. Most of the rankers aren’t a threat to you any more, but the other Luminari? That is a whole different story. Nor are we the only apex predators on the astral seas.
Your void mother took you on a tour of the universe then dumped you at home to deal with the fallout her visit has generated. Word is already spreading that you have Awakened in truth. I am not the only one who can see into your pocket. You are being watched even now.
I know. I'm debating about poking the watchers in the eye with a metaphorical stick.
Do nothing for now. Review your stats, relax with your luminature. Pretend you do not know you are being watched.
They have prodded my mother’s shields seeking to discover what lays beneath. My patience is wearing thin. Soon I will poke eyes and slap prying fingers. If I must stay here and wait then it is upon you to warn those outside to act right or be corrected.
I am still Torric…
But I am also Celivor Veythari, beloved son of the mother of beasts, she who hunts the darkness and my mother just spent 3 months educating me in the finer points of my heritage.
There will be one warning for them all. After that warning I will put my mother’s teachings to practice. She did tell me to blood myself early… and often.
“Who are you talkin to?” Meidron asked. His face appeared just a few inches from Torric’s.
“Renethera. I told her I’m hungry. She’s having food prepared.”
“Huh. You still need to eat? We no longer need to. Though I’ll eat you up any day.” The incubus grinned at him, licking his lips hungrily.
“You don’t need to eat?” Torric asked, looking between the two.
“Nope, it's one of the reasons people are so weirded out by us. We don’t need to drink either. We just need to stay by your side and we exist entirely off of your power. Didn’t the beast mother tell you?”
“She told me a lot of things. I can’t fully remember everything.”
“Well she gave us lessons too. In our duties to you.” Liam replied, nibbling on his ear. “And what it means to be your luminature. We exist to make you happy. To feel loved. To protect you. We are yours, wholey. Completely. Irrevocably."
The surge of devotion from Liam’s core would have been enough to bring him to his knees if Torric had been standing. Meidron’s body answered in kind and he was trapped between the blaze of power, his and theirs, and the devotion that bound them together in a tangle of three. It was agony and ecstasy that left him panting for breath.
They brought him to completion with nothing but their unshakable love and lust, touching only his soul and not his body.
Torric laid stretched out across the bed, drifting on the sea of his afterglow. “Wow…you definitely couldn’t do that before.” He mumbled blissfully.
“We can do a great deal that we couldn’t before.” Liam answered. “You didn’t just change our bodies. Our Classes have changed. So has yours. You should check your stats. And now you can check ours too, since we are part of you.”
Torric finally checked his stats, discovering that he was now on the cusp of B grade. He would evolve again at level 2,000, in a mere 73 levels. The level of his devotion, and devotion points had inflated beyond belief.
Liam and Meidron were also now in C grade. Individually their stats didn’t compare to his, but they each had the ability to combine their power in order to force his submission. They also had abilities that would calm his emotions or redirect them onto a new track, for good or ill.
They truly did not need any energy other than what they gained from Torric. Torric, in turn, now had to provide enough energy to sustain three, which probably accounted for some of his ravenous hunger.
Your meal is ready.
Renethera’s message was a welcome distraction.
I am opening the pocket dimension now.
A second later a vertical crack of light appeared in front of them and for the first time Torric could sense the outside world. He took his two lovers by the hand, using power to clothe their bodies before stepping through the portal and back into the real world.
They were once again in the temple of Bahumet, though they were not in his suite. Instead they were in the temple’s massive banquet hall, table after table practically groaning under the weight of the food that was upon them. All of it rich with the perfume of devotion. A feast for the senses, his mind, soul and his body all at once.
He knew without question that Liam and Meidron would benefit from the feast in front of them, as they were now part of him.
Kneeling amid the tables, heads bowed, one hand upraised in supplication, were the ranking members of his mother’s priesthood. He wandered among them, tracing his fingers over their upraised palms, imbuing them with the barest hint of his power, of Her power. The priests shuddered in ecstacy when he touched them, some collapsing to the ground, bodies shaking in joy and orgasmic pleasure. They were the ones who resonated with his power the best.
Those who collapsed were gently carried from the room to be tended by the novitiates on hand. Those who did not remained on hand as he, Renethera and his new luminature took a seat at the high table.
The Torric of yesterday, or more like three months ago, for that was how much time had truly passed in the material world, would have been uncomfortable being served a meal by the high priestess of all of Bahumet’s temples on Solstheen, now he accepted it as his due.
Every portion of food was presented to him first, to either accept or reject or to pass to his luminature. He made sure to give both his lovers large portions of the dishes he sensed they would like best, the best portions of them at that.
When he placed the choicest cuts on their plates, both of his lovers stilled, glancing at one another before bowing their heads briefly in unspoken thanks, not for the food or the sharing of his devotion, but to him, and the obvious care he showed them.
Renethera did not eat, though she did casually drink wine from her own personal reserves.
He still did not remotely approach the celestial dragon in terms of strength, but now that he had truly awoken thanks to his mother he could more accurately sense her power. And not just her personal power, but the power packed into her soul aperture. She too had entire worlds worth of energy packed into her soul, to be slowly digested over eons.
Renethera did not immediately launch into the conversation she clearly wanted to have, instead letting him eat. The warmth of the offerings of devotion in his meal filled him with comfort, hydrating the parched soil of his soul and inner being. He may have an extensive reservoir of power under the surface, but that was the groundwater that maintained his ecosystem. He still needed the water and sun of devotion from his followers to grow strong and thrive.
Liam leaned closer as Torric ate, his smile quiet but radiant. “You look alive again,” he murmured, as though the food itself restored color to Torric’s soul. “Seeing you take strength fills me with more joy than eating ever could. I knew you were fine as you slept, but your soul was gone, by vacant. I missed you.”
Meidron, ever more brazen, dragged a fingertip through the sauce of one dish and licked it slowly from his hand. His sigils pulsed faintly, echoing Torric’s aura. “Even the flavors bend to you,” he purred. “Every bite tastes sweeter because it passes through your hands first.”
Every dish presented trembled faintly in the hands of the priests who served them, as though carrying food to his table was like carrying a star. Some sobbed softly as they laid plates before him, overcome with joy just to be near him. One priest gasped aloud when Torric’s fingertips brushed his palm, collapsing in a heap of bliss as if he’d just touched divinity. Technically he had. The novices carried him out gently as they had those who had collapsed earlier, but the look upon his face as he was carried out was rapture, not pain.
“Have you satiated yourself enough that we may speak plainly of the state of the world and your future, both immediate and further down the line?” Renethera asked finally.
“I think we can speak now.” His gaze flickered to the priests around them. “You may leave. My luminature will tend to my needs from here.” The priests immediately bowed and began filing out of the banquet hall without a further word.
When they were gone he activated the wards inherent to the temple, wards only he, another celestial tiger, or Bahumet herself could raise or lower. None of his ever present astral watchers would be able to see or hear their conversation within.
“What have you been told?” She asked simply.
“Praetoria is gone. So is a third of the demonic empire. They all reside within me now. Fueling my body, my soul, its evolution, propelling me up the Ladder of Heavens. Beyond that-” he shrugged. “I know not. Oh, and I have been given the remaining wealth of the deceased, though I must admit I haven’t actually looked up what that means.”
Renethera’s wineglass turned slowly in her hand, golden liquid catching the mage-lights. She studied him for a long moment before speaking.
“While your soul was being educated by the beast mother you were paraded before the universe. For three months, Bahumet carried your body through the astral seas as one might carry a standard into battle. You were her banner, the proof of her wrath, her warning to the cosmos. Everywhere she went, worlds died. She poured them into you. Entire planets; their oceans, their mountains, their skies, the souls residing within and upon them. All broken down into raw essence and channeled into your aperture. Forty-six worlds reforged into your blood and marrow.”
Renethera leaned forward, voice lowering. “I saw it, child. Not with my eyes, but through the lattice. A trail of light and ash across the stars. Celestines fell silent as you passed. Empires stilled their fleets lest they attract the attention of your mother. For every planet Bahumet cracked apart, your name spread farther. The boy reforged into a crucible. The heir of the Beast Mother who would not just inherit her fury but embody it. She was death incarnate and you her muse, her canvas, her paint, and her vision all at once.”
She sipped her wine, letting the weight of her words sink in. “Do you understand? In the eyes of the universe, you were not the victim of Praetoria carried to safety. You are a weapon. Her weapon. The mouth of a new void into which Bahumet hurled her enemies -your enemies- wholesale.”
Her lips curled, half smirk, half smile. “Praetoria’s end was only the beginning. Those who dared to harm you were erased root and stem. But she did not stop there. She culled the demonic empire’s decadence, stripping whole bloodlines until a third of their territory was barren and silent. And every jewel she tore free, every ounce of power she took, she shoved into you. You carry them now. All of them. The slain, the sundered, the worlds themselves. You are not merely fueled by their deaths. You are their graves.”
“So now what? Am I expected to atone for what my mother did?”
He should have, perhaps, felt bad at the massive casualties he incurred, but the dead were all nameless, faceless. It wasn’t that he didn’t care that they died, he wasn’t totally unfeeling, but 46 planets was an abstract number. Faceless. Empty. Besides, as has been pointed out he never asked for any of this.
Renethera laughed. “Atonement? No, child. Gods don’t atone. They devour, or they are devoured. The verse only fears you will continue Her rampage.”
“I have no desire or current intent to do so. That could change in the future, but for now I really don’t care about the rest of the verse and what they're doing. What about the situation closer to home?”
“Their imperial majesties are willing to offer you Solstheen-”
“Don’t want it.” He immediately rejected. “The last thing I want is to be tied down to a single world to rule.”
“I’m sure that will secretly thrill them.” Renethera remarked dryly. “Their majesties Liarus and Keisidra have requested to meet you. They’re your Liam’s parents.”
Torric looked over at the man in question. “They likely want to thank you for showing an interest in me.” He explained, dabbing the corner of his mouth with a napkin.
“I’ll have a small meeting with them. I should at least thank them for their son, since I am keeping you.”
He squeezed Liam’s hand possessively, favoring his former prince with a loving smile.
Liam’s cheeks flushed faintly at Torric’s words, though his grip on Torric’s hand tightened in return. The smile he offered was small, but it glowed with the same starlight woven into his hair. “They’ll thank you for taking me.”
“Meidron do I need to meet your parents as well?” He asked, turning his attention to the demon on his other side.
“Not really necessary. My parents were more concerned with the politics of their bedchambers than their children. They provided for me as was their duty, but like most high ranking incubi nobles they didn’t really care about raising me. I’m sure they would love to meet you, but only for the prestige and with the hopes of gaining your favor.
If you meet them, they’ll fawn and scrape, not out of love for me, but because you are their golden prize. They will smell your power like blood in the water and beg for a taste.”
Torric tilted his head, studying him. “And do you care?”
The incubus leaned closer, lips brushing Torric’s ear in a teasing whisper. “Not even a little. I care about you. About this.” His clawed hand traced Torric’s wrist, where their sigils met like joined veins.
“We’ll meet them eventually, then.” Torric replied. “At the wedding, perhaps.”
Meidron choked on the bite of food he'd just taken. “The wedding? Whose wedding?”
“Ours of course. I know it seems a bit redundant since I already bound your souls to mine, but I want the little official piece of paper saying you belong to me, and not as my slave.”
Meidron stared, caught between shock and something perilously close to awe.
Liam, on the other hand, only smiled faintly, eyes shining with galaxies. His hand tightened on Torric’s. “I wondered if you’d say it aloud,” he murmured.
Renethera arched a brow over the rim of her wineglass, her voice as dry as the vintage. “A wedding of this magnitude will set the empires into a frenzy. Invitations will be bartered like war treaties. Entire fleets will cross the astral seas just for the chance to witness it.”
Torric shrugged lightly, as if empires and fleets were beneath his notice. “Then let them come. Let them see. It is only fitting. I don’t intend to rush anything, however. I want to make this a grand affair to remember.”
“Oh that is already assured.” Renethera promised darkly. “Luminari rarely marry and this is celestine controlled space. The moment the word marriage crosses your lips it will be a feeding frenzy of intrigue to gain an invitation.”
Meidron dragged a hand down his face, muttering, “You don’t just decide marriages like this over dinner.” His tail lashed again, though the blush creeping over his scarlet skin betrayed his excited emotions. His indignation was clearly feigned to cover his secret raptures.
“I do,” Torric replied simply, tilting his head, starlight shimmering faintly in his hair. “Because it is not a decision. I am merely throwing a party for the verse to acknowledge how much you mean to me.”
Liam’s thumb stroked over the back of Torric’s hand. “The stars will fight to attend. But the vows are already written in our souls."
Renethera’s smile was sharp as a blade. “You don’t understand the scale. Dynasties will collapse for a chance at proximity to your union. Bloodlines will slaughter each other for the right to be seated within a hundred leagues of the ceremony. The empires will not see a wedding. They will see opportunity.”
Torric sipped his wine, unconcerned. “Then let them kneel. Whether they call it a wedding or opportunity, it changes nothing. They will witness that you are mine.” He glanced at Liam and Meidron in turn, voice softening like velvet wrapped around steel. “And that I am yours.”
He turned his attention back to matters at hand. “There is plenty of time to discuss weddings. What of my more immediate future? The university we were to attend was for those D grade and below. We are all now C, and I am spitting distance with B. However for all my power I have only the training I was given by the beast mother.”
“You do need education. Desperately. Right now you are oversouled. Your power, the strength of your magic and soul, is too great to be contained within your body. We must bring your body and soul into harmony, and that can only be done through rigorous training and refining your physical form through experience.”
“So what is the plan?”
“We take you offworld to a world that does offer a university for students of your caliber. We’ll head for that world via the lattice and you and your luminature will fight your way through the dungeon to get to your new home, helping you cement your bond and battle partnership while also strengthening your physical body and begin fixing your oversoul problem.”
Torric’s brows furrowed faintly, though his tone remained calm. “So even now, after Bahumet has burned me down and reforged me, I’m still incomplete.”
“Not incomplete,” Renethera corrected, her voice as sharp as a scalpel. “Unrefined. A blade fresh from the forge, shining, deadly, but rough. The blade needing a good polish. Oversouling is not a blessing, it is a warning to fix a potential weakness before it becomes a fatal flaw.”
Meidron’s tail flicked behind him, eyes glinting. “Then we grind you until you gleam. I like the sound of that.”
Torric tapped a clawed fingernail against the rim of his goblet, thoughtful. “And this university offworld, will it accept me, or is this a theater for the verse to gawk at the Beast Mother’s child?”
Renethera smirked faintly. “Both. But you’ll enter it by right of conquest, not courtesy. The lattice path is bound through the dungeon. If you and your luminature can’t fight your way through, then you’re not worthy of the halls beyond. You don’t get free admittance just for being a god.”
“Good.” Torric’s mismatched eyes gleamed like twin novas. “Then let them see me not in silk, but in blood and battle. I’ll carve my entrance into their world. What university? Not that I'll have heard of it before.
“Avalon Academy of the Ascended. It is located on the world of Avalon, ruled over by the queen Morrigan the Archfey.”
“The Avalon Academy is one of the oldest and most exalted crucible of higher training in worlds connected through the lattice.” Liam explained. “It occupies Avalon, a world woven from living myth and ruled by Queen Morrigan the Archfey She is no mere monarch, she is a divine-blooded sovereign who bends fate to her will, and her court is a parliament of monsters, saints, and kings who could unmake lesser empires with a whim. To go there will be to swim in kraken infested waters.”
Torric tilted his head, curiosity sparking. “And she invites others to train in her realm?”
“She does not invite,” Renethera corrected sharply. “She tests. Those who survive Avalon’s lattice-bound dungeon are deemed worthy to tread her soil. Those who reach the gates of the Academy are granted a place at her table of students. Divine scions of celestine households, heirs of empires that have existed for tens of thousands of years, soulforged weapons given human shape. It is not merely an institution, Torric. It is the crucible where the verse’s predators sharpen their teeth.”
Meidron grinned, eyes glowing faintly. “Sounds like fun. Endless rivals, endless prey, and you at the center. They’ll whisper your name in the halls as much as they fear it.”
Liam’s expression was more cautious, though equally resolute. “It will not be a place of comfort. At Avalon, power is everything. The students there are not children, Torric, they are calamities being groomed into gods. To walk those halls is to make enemies as easily as allies.”
“Liam is right. There will be other Luminari there. And the children of beings that could be on par with a celestine. It will not be like here on Solstheen where you are a sharkeen among the minnows.” Renetheta cautioned. “And I will not be there to act as your protector.”
“What?!” Torric asked, caught off guard by the announcement.
“My duties keep me with the Sol’freya. You are going beyond the scope of my territory. Far beyond it. A new guardian is coming for you. She is another celestial tiger and will be able to guide you on your mother’s path. She is already making her way here.”
Torric’s brows drew together, his aura flickering in protest. “You’re abandoning me?”
Renethera’s golden eyes narrowed, her tone clipped but not unkind. “I am releasing you. You are no longer a cub clinging to my shadow. You are ascending into a world where my authority means little and my claws reach no farther than Solstheen. To keep you with me would be to chain you, not guard you.”
Liam’s hand tightened around Torric’s wrist, steadying, even as Meidron’s tail flicked with curiosity. “Another tiger?” Meidron asked carefully.
“Yes,” Renethera confirmed. “She is an elder even to me, well seasoned in walking the Beast Mother’s paths. Where I protected you from mortal danger, she will temper you against divine temptation and guide you as you Evolve. She will not coddle you. She will test you. She will not see a boy cut off from his people and raised to think himself worthless. She will see the heir of Bahumet, and she will break you if you prove unworthy.”
Torric bristled, eyes flashing. “I will not break.”
Renethera’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “Good. Because she will arrive within days. And if you cannot stand firm before her claws, she will devour you whole before you ever reach its gates.”
Chapter 13
Notes:
Maybe some body horror warning? This is a fairly tame chapter as far as sex and blood goes. Next up we have the 50th floor boss battle. I still feel like writing, but I don't know yet if I'm gonna do a new Casius or Mycah chapter for a change of pace or if I want to keep going with Torric while I have momentum. There probably be something else posted in the next 8ish hours but I don't yet know what. Also, new Torric sheet drop on account of his mini-evolution. This will probably be the last one for a while unless comments indicate people enjoy reading the sheets (that I absolutely update as I write, not exaggerating, it is a living document as much as Torric's story). If people also want to see Liam and Meidron's sheets, let me know and you can sneak a peek at those too!
Chapter Text
They spent the next week lounging in the temple of Bahumet, rarely emerging other than when the compulsion of devotion became too much and Torric was drawn outside to sit among the slaves, and the children of slaves, that had come to see him.
His reputation as a protector of the enslaved, and all children, but particularly as the protector of enslaved children had been cemented in his absence, and as a result the overall treatment of all three categories had improved dramatically in his absence.
Finally the day Torric’s new guardian arrived came. Senshia Velthrain was a celestial tiger alike and unlike him at the same time. Her skin was silver, covered in gleaming gold stripes outlined in black. Her eyes, like Torric's, were reflections of the celestial night sky. Her hair was obsidian black, reflecting a rainbow sheen when the light hit it just right.
She was slightly shorter than him, and her hair was significantly shorter. Torric had cut his hair to his knees because having it trail across the floor was obnoxious. Both Liam and Meidron had overruled him on cutting it any shorter, and he had annoyingly found that it would take a concerted effort on his part to disobey a commandment laid out by the two of them in tandem.
In comparison to his knee length locks, Senshia’s shoulder length hair made her seem practically bald.
It was her presence though, that was most overwhelming. When she walked into the room he was lounging in with his two lovers every priest in his vicinity immediately prostrated themselves, fully laying face down on the floor, eyes glued to the ground. Even Liam and Meidron seemed to struggle.
For Torric the weight of her aura, her presence, was crushing but not insurmountable. Not after spending three months within the void mother’s loving arms.
He looked up at her from the book he was reading with an air of boredom as she loomed over him. “If you keep projecting your aura to be so dangerous you're going to leave little puddles of ‘danger’ all over the floor.” He told her mildly with the affectation that she didn’t affect him at all.
The priests who heard him whimpered, terrified by his insolence in the face of one so much greater than he or they. Senshia’s eyes bored into him, the void within them colliding with his own. Then she laughed, the sound of a rich, wild, predator who had clearly been amused. The pressure of her aura dissolved as though it had never been, leaving the chamber gasping with sudden relief.
“I expected a timid slave when I arrived. Glad to see captivity did not leave you neutered.”
“Do you really think the beast mother would leave me a cowed broken child after three months spent reforging me?” Torric asked, snapping his book shut.
Her grin widened, just enough to show approval beneath the challenge. “True. But I had to test you nonetheless.” Her gaze slid past him, sharp as a blade, pinning the two men at his side. “These are your luminature?”
“Yes. Liamarillus Veythari and Meidron Veythari.”
“You give them your name?”
“They are extensions of me, my power, and my soul, why should I not share with them my name?”
“As long as it is your will, and not the will of those binding you. It is curious, the power that flows between the three of you. You are the master, but they can team up to control you. While they are bound to you with love and devotion they are not bound to obey you at all. It leaves me questioning who is the true master in your triad.”
“I am.” Torric answered.
“He is.” They responded as one at the same time.
“All power ultimately rests with me.” Torric continued. “But through my own desires I have given them the strength needed to keep me from losing myself to hubris and monstrosity.”
+And so we can force you to your knees in bed to service us sexually,+ Meidron added silently, his mental voice a wicked purr.
Torric’s lips twitched as he held back a smile. +She does not need to know about our sex games.+
“We will see if you made the correct decision in their forging,” Senshia said at last, her voice even but edged. “Not that I can say much. Most of our kin cannot birth even one lumin during the crucible. It takes all their strength simply to survive it. You managed to forge two, and not as hollow extensions of yourself, but with personality and their own autonomy. That is… unexpected. We tigers are famed for our overwhelming destructive force, not for delicate threads of creation.”
Her hand shot out, strong fingers gripping his chin, tilting his face toward her. Her eyes, swirling with the night sky, searched his own as though she could peel apart his soul.
“I see it now,” she murmured, almost to herself. “Your magic does not come from annihilation. It comes from control. From domination. Not fire that consumes, but chains that bind.” Her lips curved faintly, “How curious… now I am even more eager to see how you grow over the years. Few of our kind change the shape of what we are. You may well redefine it.
Was it your captivity that changed you? Or something else? What secrets do you hide within your soul, Celivor Veythrari?”
“If I told you that then they would not be secrets any more, Senshia Velthrain. We are cats, and thus mystery is bred into our blood and soul.”
“So is curiosity. I will not be the only one to wish to delve into your depths to see what there is to find. I will let you keep your secrets. For now. Others will be more persistent in their pursuit.”
Renethera walked into the room. “Senshia, we welcome you. You made good time in your travels from Avalon.”
“I decided to speed run the lattice rather than hunting my way across it to get between our dungeons. We will travel more slowly on the way back. Mother left him dangerously oversouled and he will need the training.”
“I’ve kept him mewed up in the temple until your arrival. His aura upon the populace is quite intense. I’ve done my best in training him, but he is a tiger and I am not. I can only take him so far, being from a separate lineage.”
“You did well enough. No one died, and his two luminature kept him grounded and his soul from fraying to merge with the lattice. Come, little kitten. We have weeks of travel before we can even get to Morrigan’s trial for you to enter Avalon.”
“You just arrived. Would you not like to refresh yourself before we head out? Resupply?” Torric asked.
“I am plenty refreshed, and have no need for a resupply. Truthfully, the longer you remain here collecting devotion and not honing your body the more dangerous it is for everyone around you but other Luminari. If you are packed and ready to leave then it is best that we do so immediately.”
“Let me just collect my most recent batch of offerings from the temple and change into clothes appropriate for travel.” Torric told her. “Renethera told us to keep everything in our soul storage so that we wouldn’t have to waste time with last minute packing once you arrived.”
They quickly gathered up the last batch of Torric’s offerings, then he went out among the throngs of people who had been gathering daily since his return within the temple’s courtyard, blessing children who had not yet received one, and generally soaking in the devotion of his followers.
He bid them a temporary goodbye, promising that he would return in the future, but that he did not know when. He also assured them that he would not abandon them just because he was going to another world, that his protections would remain upon them for years, and that if they needed him they needed to but pray for his intercession and if their need was great enough he would respond, even worlds away.
It wasn’t even an empty promise. His power as a Luminari connected him to them in a way that could not be blocked or hindered no matter how great the distance between him and his devotees.
As long as their prayers fell within the three domains he had established as part of his worship he wouldn’t even need to respond directly, the magic of the verse, of the System, would act for him without needing his conscious commands. Most prayers that got answered would be answered without his personal intervention or attention, automatically handled by the cosmic AI that ran the universe or his two luminature. For someone’s prayers to truly reach him, and his consciousness, the situation would be dire or critical in some other way.
When they were finally ready to go, the temple gates opened and the streets of Solstheen erupted. At first it was only a few dozen who followed behind them, the dozens became hundreds, then thousands, until the avenues of the capital were choked with bodies. The city moved as one tide, pressing forward for one last glimpse, one last touch.
Mothers lifted their children high in the air, crying out for his Blessings. Old slaves hobbled forward with chains still dangling from their wrists, shoving them toward him as offerings, proof that his light had already changed their lives. Flowers and scraps of bright cloth rained from balconies, carpeting the cobblestones beneath his feet in color.
Everywhere he turned, hands stretched toward him. He gave what he could: a brush of fingers against a forehead, a murmured prayer, a fleeting glow of power as another child received his mark. Each touch lit a ripple through the crowd, their voices swelling into a chant that echoed down the marble avenues: The Shackled God. The Shackled God. The Shackled God.
Torric walked at the center of it, Liam and Meidron flanking him, Senshia a looming shadow of silver and gold just behind. His expression was calm, almost detached, but inside he felt the weight of it, the unbearable devotion of a city pouring its hope into his hands.
He was leaving, but this moment would remain carved into memory.
They would tell their children, and their children’s children, that they had walked with him that day. That they had seen the Shackled God depart, not into exile, but into the verse itself, to carry mercy to the chained and burn a light of hope against the darkness of despair.
No one followed them across the threshold into the building that held the portal that was the dungeon’s entrance. The ocean of voices that had carried them to the dungeon’s gates swelled one last time, a tide of chanting that shook the marble arches. The Shackled God. The Shackled God.
Mothers and fathers wept as they pressed their children’s hands together in prayer. Elderly slaves fell to their knees, chains clattering as they bent low, whispering blessings back to the one who had given them hope and protection.
And then the moment came. Torric stepped through the gate, Liam and Meidron close at his sides, Senshia’s shadow falling long behind them. The portal shimmered once, swallowing their figures whole. For those outside, it was as though the world itself had taken him. The chanting faltered, breaking into sobs and whispers that they would tell their children for generations: they had seen the Shackled God depart.
On the other side, silence reigned. The roar of thousands was cut off as if a blade had fallen.
The dungeon’s first floor greeted them with chill air heavy with mana, stone corridors etched in strange runes that pulsed like veins. Even here, at its threshold, the dungeon reminded them: this was no temple, no city. This place was ripe with danger. Death stalked its halls. Here, mortals did not belong, and the incautious would meet their demise.
Well, maybe not on the first floor, at least not for the four of them. If Torric found himself in mortal peril on the first floor of any world’s dungeon as a late C grade then he was in deep shit and rapidly sinking.
They did not jump between safe zones to get to the dungeon’s depths with great speed. Instead they took each floor from start to finish. It hardly mattered. None of the monsters on the first twenty floors so much as tried to fight. Packs of spectral wolves, chittering insect-things, and half-formed shadows took one look at them and broke into panicked retreat, scattering like leaves before an oncoming storm.
Torric didn’t bother giving chase. Their hides and bones weren’t worth the space in his soul storage, and the System wouldn’t even award him a tenth of a single point of experience. It wouldn’t award him experience at all, the difference between their grades and levels were so great.
The boss fights between floors were equally easy. The bosses couldn’t run. Bosses never could. On each floor, they rose from their chambers roaring defiance: a giant crustacean plated in crystal, a knight of rust-armored stone, a serpent wreathed in lightning. And every time, Torric ended them in a single strike. No flourish, no effort, just the clean efficiency of inevitability. Doors to the next floor opened at once, as though even the dungeon itself wanted to be rid of him.
The Champion’s Chests were worse. Gleaming relics of power, each enough to make lesser rankers weep with joy, spilled before him in gilded light. Torric collected them without a flicker of interest. I’ll sell it all on the road, he thought, brushing dust from his hands. Otherwise my storage is just going to look like a junk shop.
They stopped at the 20th-floor safe zone, though none of them were tired enough to call it a night.
Night? The thought amused Torric.
Time meant little in the dungeon. There was no sunrise or sunset here, no weather to mark the passing of hours. Each floor existed in its own pocket of unreality, walls glowing with an ambient light that never dimmed. The dungeon breathed mana instead of air, and what it took in, it used: corpses, trash, even bodily waste vanished into the stone, absorbed and repurposed as fuel. Self-cleaning, like some grand, alien machine.
The safe zone itself was unsettling in its perfection. No lingering traces of killing intent or monsters, no hunger for blood and death in the walls. It was as if the dungeon simply refused to acknowledge them here, the constant pressure of danger eased, leaving a silence too clean, too empty. No monsters could enter the safe zones, they truly were safe from all dangers except the predation of other rankers. And no one would dream of trying to accost Torric and his party on the 20th floor. They probably wouldn’t on the 60th either, when they reached it.
They didn’t sleep as they rested. Instead, they rented time in the communal bathhouse, sluicing dungeon dust, blood, and viscera from the many boss fights from their skin and hair. Steam curled from the pools, mingling with the faint shimmer of enchantments woven into the stone.
When they emerged, cleaned and refreshed, Meidron quickly found an out of the way space to unpack his cooking gear, humming to himself as he cooked up a feast from their stored provisions. Torric ate like a starving man, though he shared readily with Liam and Meidron.
Senshia abstained, not that she would have eaten offerings meant for Torric, taking only long pulls from the wineskin she carried. At her rank she needed nothing, not food, not drink, not even rest, she drank only out of enjoyment of the taste rather than a need to wet a parched throat, her silver-gold stripes gleaming faintly in the ambient glow of the dungeon.
For a moment it almost felt domestic. Almost. But beneath the warmth of the bath and the scent of spiced meat, Torric felt the dungeon watching. Waiting. Twenty floors of fleeing monsters had been nothing but prelude. Things would only get tougher the deeper they went. Senshia said they were headed for the entrance to the lattice that existed on the 76th floor. Then it was a month of travel across the lattice to reach Avalon’s dungeon, and the trial to get into the Morrigan’s Academy of Ascension.
The next 30 floors passed, while not with the same ease of the first 20, but still a great deal of ease nonetheless. The monsters did not stop running from them until they reached the 36th floor. Then it was like a switch had flipped in their minds. Instead of running from them, they ran directly for them in a blood lusted frenzy, fighting ferociously to the death.
“Why are they so aggressive now?” Torric asked after a particularly nasty fight involving a tribe of yetis 50 strong as they approached the 50th floor boss. This entire floor had an ice environment. The freezing cold and driving snow enough to sting the face and make your skin redden. How there was snow but no atmosphere or weather he had absolutely no idea. Senshia only said that it was part of the magic of the dungeons when he asked.
Senshia washed her claws clean of blood in a snow drift, the frozen water hissing as it touched the golden stripes on her skin. “Some monsters see certain death approaching and they flee, hoping the predator will not follow. That they will live to see another day.”
Her eyes gleamed, the void-light within them sharp as a blade. “But others choose to rail against certain death, claw for claw, blood for blood. Always respect prey that chooses to fight with bravery. Do not toy with them. Do not drag out their deaths for your amusement. That way lies weakness. Respect makes you stronger. Contempt will rot your instincts.”
Torric tilted his head, considering that, the words rubbing against the grain of his nature. His magic was chains and dominion, not clean strikes. But still… there was something in Senshia’s reverence that tugged at him, a code of predator’s honor that his own path would have to reckon with.
They stopped outside the 50th floor boss room for another meal break before going in for what would be the hardest fight they’d experienced since entering the dungeon. They’d made sure to clear out the entire floor before stopping to rest. It would take hours for the yetis to respawn, unless they defeated the floor boss, which would reset the entire floor’s spawn rate.
“I doubt you have gained much in the way of experience so far.” Senshia began as they waited on Meidron’s cooking. “And certainly not enough to gain any levels. How many free points and devotion points do you have unspent, however? It might be time to spend some of your accumulations.”
“I don’t have much in the way of free points, the mother spent most of them all to bring me to where I was when she returned me to Solstheen. Devotion points, however. That I have a lot of. 159,976,283. I’m not sure what to spend them on. The last time I spent any Renethera just had me use the points I’d accumulated to boost my stats and only my stats.”
“Let me see your status plate, and I will advise you.”
Torric’s status plate unfolded into the air like a galaxy torn open, runes and numbers shimmering in radiant arcs. It hovered above the campfire Meidron had coaxed from conjured wood, its glow bright enough to paint the walls of the ice cavern in shimmering constellations. The cold and the storm outside seemed forgotten, swallowed in the brilliance of the System’s display.
“First,” Senshia said, her voice calm and cutting, “raise everything to one million. You have more than enough devotion points to spare to do that, and strengthening your attributes to that degree will seriously help with your oversoul problem.”
He quickly upped his stats, though he didn't confirm the expenditure, not yet. There was still a lot more to buy.
“Good,” Senshia purred, her golden-striped claws tapping the air as she scrolled through his hovering stats. “Now we carve you into something worthy of what you are.”
She went through all his Skills line by line, guiding him to Evolve them or pick new ones entirely using his Devotion points. He hadn’t even realized how many different Skills and abilities he had access to until he began going over things with Senshia. They spent hours combing through lists until he had spent the vast majority of his devotion points.
“You’re going to pass out the moment you finalize these purchases.” Senshia warned him. “You’ll change so much that the System cannot just integrate the upgrades within you with just a quick blip and a reset. We’ll protect your body while your evolve, don’t worry, this is a lesser evolution, not an Evolution like for your Class and grade. Your physical appearance won’t change, just your stats and abilities.”
“Can we set up a bed or something first? Not to act like a princess but if I’m going to be unconscious for a few hours I’d prefer it wasn’t laying on the freezing- literally- cold dungeon floor.”
They set him up on a bed on the floor behind a protective barrier that kept out not just enemy attacks but the driving snow and freezing cold of the level. He laid down then finalized the spending of his devotion points. Torric’s body went limp as consciousness left him
Senshia folded her arms outside the protective bubble, standing sentinel, the golden stripes on her skin glowing faintly in the firelight. “Guard him well,” she said softly, though her voice carried the weight of command. “The System is reforging him. When he wakes, he will not be what he was when he slept.”
Torric’s body arched on the bed behind her, breath torn from him in a burst of mist. Strength surged through every vein, every tendon, his body convulsing violently. Bones snapped from muscles as they seized, blood poured from his pores, his form twisting until the weight of his soul burned less violently against its cage.
Chains of glowing script wrapped around his arms. One by one his combat skills ignited, were consumed, and then reborn. Claws flared black and silver, carving phantom slashes through the frost without him moving a muscle. A blade of eclipse-fire howled into existence, scattering sparks that burned cold and hot at once. His body twisted with the memory of strikes he hadn’t yet thrown.
Meidron watched with reverent fear, staring at his unconscious body as it writhed. “...He’s tearing holes in the air without touching it.”
“That’s only the beginning,” Senshia replied without looking away. “The System is upgrading his combat capabilities, next comes his defenses.”
A constellation bloomed around his unconscious body: seven shields of light and shadow orbiting like planets. Each collapsed inward, searing into his flesh. His skin gleamed obsidian-dark, stripes shifting with starlight as though steel and night had fused beneath his surface. When the last shield sank into him, even the dungeon seemed to flinch.
Then the auras came. His presence swelled until the cavern itself seemed to shrink around him. Liam’s knees bent involuntarily, his breath catching as if he had once more been thrown unceremoniously in front of Bahumet to prove his devotion to her son.
Even Meidron, ever eager to drown in Torric’s divinity, clutched the spoon in his hand with white-knuckled fingers, staring with wide, trembling eyes, the soup he’d been preparing forgotten.
Books of ghostly light spun into existence, orbiting Torric’s body in vast spirals. Timelines flickered above his head, choices made, choices unmade, the karmic weight of every step he had ever taken. Maps etched themselves into the floor beneath him, lines of glowing script outlining lands he had never seen, paths he had never walked.
When the last spent devotion point was gone, the status plate displayed over his unconscious body burned white-hot, then shattered into starlight that sank into his flesh. Torric convulsed one last time, his body a vessel too full, galaxies burning beneath his skin.
Torric woke still within his protective bubble, snow built up around it. He was now naked and in a portable bathtub, where it had come from or the water to fill it he had no idea, but from the murky red-pink of the water he’d clearly needed the bath.
His head was tilted over the edge of the tub and Liam was busy washing it within its own basin of soapy water while Meidron gently sponged his skin clean. His body didn’t quite ache, but it had that pleasant tired feeling like he’d just had the best training session in his life.
He wrapped one dripping wet arm around Meidron, pulling him half into the tub, kissing him deeply. “Mmmm hi.” He purred. “Want to get some clean water and you can join me?”
“I don’t particularly want to watch you fuck your lumin.” Senshia spoke up. “And fucking in a dungeon outside of a safe room is just asking to get attacked. Especially in front of a boss room. Enough time has passed that the floor should be at least a third of the way to fully respawned. There is a safe zone on the other side of this room. You can go fuck each other’s brains out AFTER you defeat the boss and behind the walls of an inn.”
“Oh boo, you’re no fun.” Meidron mock pouted at her.
“Let me just finish rinsing the last of the soap from your hair then we can continue.” Liam told him. “You were absolutely covered in blood by the time you finished.”
“Mmm you won’t get any complaints from me. I love having my hair washed.”
“Well while his highness finishes your hair, have some of my soup. It’s been simmering for hours. The drake meat is positively falling apart; it is so tender.” Meidon insisted, detangling himself from Torric’s arms so that he could retrieve a bowl.
The incubus spoon fed him the extremely delicious stew, thick with vegetables and a plethora of the aforementioned drake meat, which was just as tender as had been promised. If he’d tried to eat the meat with a fork it would have disintegrated. Drake meat was not found on Praetoria at all, but was fairly common on Solstheen, provided you had the money for such expensive and dangerous to acquire meat. It was very similar to a cow in texture and base flavor, but was innately spicy and much leaner than beef.
Once he was clean, dry, and stomach full, Torric dressed in his armor, his long hair braided and tucked inside his chestpiece to keep from getting damaged.
“Alright, how are we doing this?” He asked, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
“The 50th Floor Boss can come in a variety of forms, all of which are ice or frost themed.” Senshia began. “Depending on the scenario generated you could be facing a single combatant or a warlord with dozens of minion adds. We won’t know what you are going to get until we walk into the chamber. In light of your new upgrades. I would like you to attempt to fight the boss on your own, without assistance from your luminature, and definitely without my help. Think of it as your first test before you reach the Morrigan’s tests. She will be far less kind than the dungeon.
If you can’t manage this on your own then you are not even remotely close to handling her Trials of Ascension.”
“But if I do run into trouble Meidron and Liam can help me, right?”
“Yes, even I will help you. But if I have to get involved you will have well and truly failed and I will increase the amount of time we spend hunting in the lattice by an additional month.”
Torric grimaced. An extra month training in the badlands did not sound fun in the slightest. He might not know Senshia very well, but he knew without a doubt that if such an event came to pass that she would make him suffer for his failure, immensely. And she would enjoy it. Just as immensely.
Torric flexed his fingers, rolling his shoulders, the obsidian sheen of his skin catching the torchlight. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
They approached the massive double doors of ice and steel, each slab taller than the tallest giant, etched with runes that pulsed with a frozen heartbeat. The air was already colder here, sharp enough to bite the lungs. Frost spidered across the walls as if the boss itself could sense his approach, its aura bleeding through the stone.
Meidron leaned close, whispering just for Torric’s ears. “Don’t die in there, my love. It would be terribly inconvenient.” He pressed a fleeting kiss against Torric’s jaw, lips warm against his chilled skin.
Liam, less playful, laid a steadying hand on Torric’s shoulder. “We’ll be right behind you. But don’t make us prove it.”
Torric smirked, rolling his eyes at both of them, though warmth flickered behind the gesture. Then he turned to Senshia.
She stood like a carved statue of silver and gold, her starlit eyes narrowing. “Remember what I told you about contempt. If you face prey, respect it. Even prey that dies screaming has something to teach.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Torric muttered, though his grin had sharpened into something feral.
He pressed both palms against the icy doors. They groaned, ancient magic resonating as the runes flared. With a rumble that shook the entire floor, the doors began to open inward.
The cold that rushed out wasn’t wind, it was a wall of killing intent, a blast of frozen malice that made the snow at their feet crystallize into diamond-hard shards. The dungeon itself seemed to hold its breath.
Torric stepped across the threshold alone, knowing that help would be right behind him if he needed it, but that it would not come unless the situation went beyond dire.
Chapter 14: Stat Sheet! Feel Free to Skip
Notes:
As promised at the end of my last chapter, Torric's updated stat sheet. Again, this'll probably be the last one for a few chapters unless comments indicate a desire to see more.
Chapter Text
Name: Celivor “Torric” Veythari
Race: Luminari
Bloodline: Celestial Tiger
Class: Eclipse Fang Sovereign
Grade: C Level 1962
Primary Attributes: Presence, Agility, Willpower, Charisma
Secondary Attributes: Strength, Spirit, Dexterity, Insight
Experience Banked:
Free Points: 6301
Level Bonus:
+100 all Primary Attributes, +75 all Secondary Attributes, +50 all other Attributes +75 free points
Devotion: 1,599,762,827
Devotion Points: 7,893
HP: 300,000,000
MP: 300,000,000
SP: 300,000,000
Physical Attributes
Strength 1,000,000
Dexterity 1,000,000
Agility 1,000,000
Reflexes 1,000,000
Toughness 1,000,000
Endurance 1,000,000
Vitality 1,000,000
Mental Attributes :
Intelligence 1,000,000
Wisdom 1,000,000
Perception 1,000,000
Wits 1,000,000
Creativity 1,000,000
Resolve 1,000,000
Insight 1,000,000
Social Attributes:
Charisma 1,000,000
Presence 1,000,000
Manipulation 1,000,000
Composure 1,000,000
Empathy 1,000,000
Charm 1,000,000
Leadership 1,000,000
Magical Attributes :
Intuition 1,000,000
Willpower 1,000,000
Focus 1,000,000
Attunement 1,000,000
Affinity 1,000,000
Arcana 1,000,000
Spirit 1,000,000
Traits
Physical Attack Power: 1,250,000
Physical Attack Speed: 150,000
Accuracy: 500,000
Dodge: 1,500,000
Defense: 1,500,000
Speed (Ground): 130,000
Speed (Flight): 130,000
Evasion (Ground): 200,000
Evasion (Flight): 250,000
Crit Chance: 40,000%
Critical Damage: 100,150%
Casting Speed: 400,000
Spell Power: 1,750,000
Spell Save DC: 25,000
Spell Crit Chance: 20,000%
Spell Crit Damage: 100,150%
Class Features
Revelation of Tenebris (Passive)
- You always know who watches you, mortals, rankers, gods, or higher. You may “mark” an observer, forcing them into your narrative, binding their awareness to you.
- Once per day, issue a Tenebric Edict: the universe itself enforces your command, rewriting causality so the target believes it has always been their will.
Predator’s Apotheosis (Passive)
- Every kill, every social conquest, every oath broken in your presence feeds into your core. Allies surge with divine buffs, while you regenerate vitality and gain stacking Mythic Momentum Buffs (Attack Speed, Charisma, Presence, Reflexes increase based on number of stacks).
- You are immune not just to poisons or charm, but to curses, hexes, fate-binding, prophecy, fear effects, mind control, or magical emotional manipulation.
Mantle of Demiurgic Word (Mythic Passive)
- Your words are now edicts. Give a command to 1-20 individuals and they must obey.
- Inflict negative status conditions with the right spoken words. Critical successes inscribe binding “clauses” into the target’s soul (Charm, Fear, Frenzy, Devotion), making the status conditions irremovable without direct divine intervention.
- Your rhetoric warps memory: failed checks rewrite what happened in the listener’s mind to match your truth.
- Beastkin and primal entities cannot resist, their instincts collapse into absolute submission
- Betrayals, revelations, or confessions you elicit through speech become conceptually irreversible.
Demiurge’s Dominion (Mythic Passive Aura)
- Allies within Presence × 20 feet radius gain near-absolute immunity to fear, domination, and despair; their criticals and morale are heightened as if destiny itself wills their strikes.
- Enemies cannot willingly oppose or attack you without passing a Presence + Willpower contest; failure creates narrative faltering, where their actions literally unravel mid-attempt.
- All bystanders instinctively treat any act of aggression against you or your chosen as a cosmic violation of reality. Courts, armies, and crowds realign in your favor.
Eclipse Mantle of Ruin (Mythic Aura)
- Divine blessings, group coordination, and party cohesion decay the longer foes remain in your aura.
- Spells and constructs unravel as if struck by paradox, their energy siphoned into you.
- A domain forms: within it, teleportation, invisibility, and deception cannot exist unless you permit them.
- Every passing moment inside this mantle escalates Willpower penalties until enemies collapse under existential dread.
Dance of the Demiurge Court (Toggle)
- Velvet Demiurge Mode: Your words become irresistible scripture. Allies gain doubled buffs to Charm/Diplomacy; enemies enthralled treat you as their inevitable ruler.
- Blood Demiurge Mode: You are entropy incarnate. Your attacks inflict unavoidable Crits, lifesteal, and soul-drain. Every kill creates a psychic ripple that debuffs all who witness it.
- Swapping modes detonates an Eclipse Paradox Shockwave, stunning enemies and rewriting the battlefield state: buffs and debuffs invert.
Eclipse Rend of Oblivion
- A three-strike combo where each strike is an ontological cut: bypasses armor, wards, fate clauses, and divine protections.
- If the foe is below 20% HP after the second blow, the third becomes Godrend Absolute: deletes the enemy from history, their existence unwoven as though they never were. Half of their accumulated stats and experience will be rendered unto the void, half to the striker of the blow, permanently boosting their own natural stats.
- When used on oathbreakers, heretics, and liars, each strike counts as divine judgment, dealing catastrophic true damage.
Fang of the Celestine (Ultimate)
- Summons an astral tiger avatar the size of a fortress to fight alongside you for a short duration.
- The avatar’s strikes cause shockwaves that disrupt magic, destroy fortifications, and create safe zones for allies within its pawprint radius.
- After the duration ends, its essence flows into you, granting a massive stat boost and temporary regeneration.
Celestial Ascension (Ultimate)
Once per day the Sovereign transforms into their full Celestine warform, a radiant, tiger-striped figure crowned with an eclipse halo and clad in living starlight armor. During this form:
- All attacks deal bonus radiant and shadow damage.
- Healing and buffs applied are doubled
- .Enemies of lower Willpower than the Seraph’s Presence auto-falter or retreat on first sight
Eclipse Sovereignty (Ultimate Aura)
In any arena, be it battlefield, throne room, or council chamber, your mere presence declares you the sovereign.
- Social: Words carry divine mandate; defiance requires Willpower greater than your Presence + Spirit combined.
- Combat: Every kill or social domination grants stacking buffs to Agility, Crit Chance, and Charm, until you embody absolute charisma and carnage.
Demiurgic Roar (Mythic AoE)
- Unleash a roar that is not sound but authorial decree: Fear, Awe, or Paralysis spread through an army as though reality itself has commanded silence.
- Lunar fires erupt into a bounded hunting arena where no exit exists. All illusions, constructs, and summoned forces dissolve instantly. The energy consumed fuels your regeneration and strengthens your auras further.
Fang of Tenebris (Mythic Ultimate)
- Summons the avatar of the Eclipse Predator, striding between shadow and sun. Its strikes do not just shatter fortifications, they edit terrain, erasing fortresses or inscribing safe zones into existence.
- When its duration ends, its essence merges with you permanently, stacking eternal buffs every time it is summoned in your lifetime.
Demiurge Ascension (Mythic Ultimate Form)
- You become a living eclipse crowned with a halo of scripture.
- In this form:
- Attacks deal radiant + void damage that ignores all defenses and armor, including conceptual defenses.
- Healing, buffs, and ally support effects triple
- Enemies of lower Willpower than your Presence cannot stand in your presence; they falter, retreat, or collapse into devotion or terror.
Blessings:
Blessing of the Divine Lineage
Channel Bahumet’s power to restore health, cleanse debuffs, or grant stat boosts to one or more allies. Scales with Attunement and Willpower. May also be used outside combat to bless land, forge alliances, or consecrate sacred spaces
Blessing of the Cherished Child
Channel Bahumet’s grace to heal wounds, cure diseases, calm fears, and fill the recipient with warmth and joy. Removes all harmful status effects and debuffs, bolsters resilience against fear, and grants a small permanent boost to Vitality and Spirit when used on children. It also shields them from detection by hostile spirits and curses until they come of age. May be invoked outside combat to sanctify nurseries, apply protection wards, or inspire courage in the young.
Blessing of the Eternal Aegis
Invoke Bahumet’s protective might to shroud an ally or allies in an unyielding barrier of light. Significantly reduces incoming damage, reflects a portion of harmful magic, and grants immunity to forced movement or displacement effects. Scales with Willpower and Resolve. Outside combat, may be used to ward a location, fortify structures, or create sanctified boundaries that repel evil or corruption.
Combat Skills
Absolute Penetration
Aegis of the Apex
Apex Form: Celestial Hand-to-Claw
Apex Predator Ascension
Cosmic Decimation Sweep
Crimson Eclipse Sever
Godfang Regeneration
Heavenbreaker Uppercut
Limitless Apex Surge
Phantom Predator’s Mirage
Primordial Apex Roar
Rapture Rend
Sovereign Predator’s Flow
Solar-Lunar Annihilation
Soul-Disarming Rend
Starfall Cataclysm
Starlight Reaving Claws
Trifold Execution
World-Butcher’s Malice
Curses
Curse of Entropy
Curse of Eternal Eclipse
Curse of Forgotten Names
Curse of Lunar Hunger
Curse of Stillness
Curse of the Dimming Sparks
Curse of the Unending Vigil
Curse of the Wandering Star
Curse of Void-Thirst
Enhancement and Buff Skills
Apex Celestial Vessel
Constellation Chain
Dominion of the Apex
Eclipse Skin
Event Horizon Reflex
Infinite Instinct Archive
Last Dawn Overdrive
Star-Forged Endurance
Unbreakable Sovereign Mind
General Skills
Akashic Soul Archive
All Speak (Perfected)
Astral Soul Vault
Cartographer of Eternity
Cosmic Scout’s Gaze
Eternal Phoenix Regeneration
Infinity Ascension Multiplier
Karmic Dominion Insight
Lotus of Infinite Stillness
Omniscient Appraisal Eye
Pain Transcendence
Primordial Foresight Instinct
Magic Skills
Absolute Mana Sovereignty
Abyss-Crowned Dominion
Astral Mindweb Nexus
Cosmic Transmutation Nexus
Dimensional Sovereign Affinity
Divine Ascendant Authority
Genesis Restoration
Infinite Dimensional Dominion
Paradox Genesis
Primordial Elemental Convergence
Radiant Stellar Supremacy
Singularity Abyss Core
Stellar Collapse Authority
Void Apex Sovereignty
Perception and Sensory Skills
Battlefield Singularity Awareness
Celestial Predator’s Domain
Dimensional Thermal Sight
Empyrean Compass
Essence Perception
Kinetic Dominion Sense
Treasure-Seeker’s Providence
Weakness Revelation
Resistance Skills
Aegis of Cataclysm
Edgebane Sovereignty
Heart of Equilibrium
Primordial Elemental Aegis
Profane Flesh Ascendant
Sovereign Mind Bastion
Void-Piercing Nullification
Social Skills
All-Seeing Empath’s Revelation
Apex Predator’s Perfect Senses
Demiurge Command of Creation
Eclipsed Persuasion of Eternity
Mask of Infinite Faces
Silver Eclipse Tongue
Unbound Sovereign Will
Skill Descriptions:
Buffs
Event Horizon Reflex – Your reactions collapse the moment of danger into nothingness. Once per round, hostile attacks simply “skip” past you as if time folded. At higher levels, allows partial redirection of attacks back at foes.
Apex Celestial Vessel – Every physical attribute is harmonized at its absolute peak. Muscles coil like compressed starlight, bones forged with voidstone density, stamina self-renews. Every motion embodies beauty, brutality, and inevitability.
Last Dawn Overdrive – When HP <50%, all physical, social, and spiritual stats ignite with unstoppable ferocity. Wounds glow with radiant fury, pain is transmuted into strength, and each strike escalates power further until the foe falls.
Unbreakable Sovereign Mind – Your soul stands beyond corruption. Immune to fear, domination, despair, and all but divine mind-curses. Enemy attempts to influence your thoughts backlash, stunning or burning them with psychic fire.
Infinite Instinct Archive – Every new technique is absorbed, refined, and woven seamlessly into your style at 100× efficiency. Once witnessed, it can be imitated. Once practiced, it is mastered.
Star-Forged Endurance – Grants inexhaustible stamina; fatigue poisons, stamina drains, and exhaustion effects are nullified. Can fight or march for days without slowing.
Eclipse Skin – Skin hardens into living starlight and shadow, reducing incoming damage dramatically while reflecting a portion back as radiant-void burn.
Constellation Chain – Each ally linked to you by oath or bond shares a fraction of your buffs and resistances, weaving them into a living constellation of power.
Dominion of the Apex – Your presence enforces hierarchy: weaker foes cannot attack at full strength, while allies fight harder under your authority.
Combat Skills:
Rapture Rend
Tears through flesh, armor, and even magical wards; wounds left continue to bleed voidfire until purified.
Trifold Execution
Three strikes in one heartbeat, each carrying a different effect: sunder, stun, and rupture. Can chain into higher combos.
Starlight Reaving Claws
Claws ignore 80% of physical and magical defenses, leaving deep astral scars that resist healing.
Crimson Eclipse Sever
A blade of blood-light arcs wide, draining life from all struck and feeding it into the user.
Apex Predator Ascension
Temporarily boosts agility, strength, and bloodlust to overwhelming levels; every strike is a killing blow.
Solar-Lunar Annihilation
A devastating blow that fuses radiant solar blaze and lunar void — blinds, burns, and fractures space itself.
Heavenbreaker Uppercut
A strike that can launch enemies the size of giants; impact creates shockwaves capable of splitting mountains.
Cosmic Decimation Sweep
A sweeping strike/wide spin imbued with astral force, sending enemies flying like comets, tearing battlefield formations apart.
Apex Form: Celestial Hand-to-Claw
Base unarmed strikes become transcendent; every punch, claw, or elbow has the weight of planetary force behind it.
Phantom Predator’s Mirage
Feints generate illusory afterimages; every false move feels real, forcing enemies to overcommit.
Soul-Disarming Rend
Strikes not only knock weapons free but can briefly suppress enemy skills/techniques bound to their weapon.
Limitless Apex Surge
Pushes body past all limits for a short time; ignores pain, fatigue, and mortal injury, fueled by burning life-force and spirit.
Primordial Apex Roar
Shakes reality itself; terrifies enemies across miles, bolsters allies, and even destabilizes dungeon constructs.
World-Butcher’s Malice
Your aura alone weighs down the battlefield; lesser beings suffocate, stronger ones feel their instincts rebel.
Starfall Cataclysm
Leap skyward and descend as a living meteor; impact unleashes a detonation that craters landscapes and burns through both armor and spirit.
Absolute Penetration
A single focused strike bypasses all defenses — no armor, shield, or spell can bar its path.
Aegis of the Apex
Defense so absolute it can intercept divine attacks; counters with a burst of force equal to damage absorbed.
Curses;
Curse of Entropy – Victims cannot heal, their essence slowly unraveling while suffering phantom agony.
Curse of Stillness – Freezes the cursed in twilight stasis, both physically and spiritually. The cursed cannot gain levels, experience, or recover spent resources.
Curse of Eternal Eclipse – Sunlight, holy magic, and all forms of healing and recovery magic fail to touch the cursed; any restorative effects are halved or negated entirely as the cursed are forever shrouded.
Curse of the Wandering Star –The cursed is doomed to never be able to rest in one place; food, sleep, and healing offer no true recovery. Natural regeneration of all resources slows the more the cursed slows, halting when they halt.
Curse of Lunar Hunger – Bound to the moon’s cycle, the cursed weakens drastically at night, stamina drains, wounds reopen, and sleep brings nightmares. Upon waking the cursed is inflicted with 1 level of exhaustion.
Curse of Void-Thirst – No liquid slakes the thirst of the cursed. Their veins crack like dried riverbeds, and only siphoned life-force from others grants relief from the unending thirst.
Curse of the Dimming Sparks – Mana leaks from the cursed in streams of starlight, bleeding power into the air until their reserves run dry.
Curse of the Unending Vigil – The cursed cannot sleep; every attempt collapses into waking terror. Insanity creeps in as days stretch without rest.
Curse of Forgotten Names – The cosmos erases the cursed piece by piece, allies, friends, and even loved ones slowly forget their face, their voice, and eventually even their existence.
General
All Speak (Perfected) – Universal communication, bypasses language and culture, even works on divine tongues.
Akashic Soul Archive – Memory is no longer finite, every word, sight, and sensation is stored in an infinite soul-library. You can replay experiences flawlessly, even borrowing echoes of past lives.
Primordial Foresight Instinct – Awareness transcends reflex, you feel disasters before they exist. Predicts attacks, ambushes, and even karmic threats seconds to hours ahead.
Eternal Phoenix Regeneration – Body, mana, and spirit continuously restore. Even dismemberment, soul-scars, or conceptual wounds are undone, burning away death as easily as fatigue.
Karmic Dominion Insight – Reads the flow of cause and effect across timelines. You see the karmic price of actions, debts owed, and blessings earned. Can alter fate threads to shift outcomes.
Infinity Ascension Multiplier – Growth accelerates without bound. Every action be it combat, training, even failure, yields exponential returns. Your presence warps the System to favor your evolution.
Astral Soul Vault – A boundless, inviolable treasury within the soul. Stores items, beings, or even memories and techniques. Nothing short of a god can breach it.
Omniscient Appraisal Eye – Identifies not only stats and items but hidden truths, flaws, and destinies. Reveals the story of an object, the lineage of a weapon, or the karmic weight of a soul.
Pain Transcendence – Pain becomes power, agony is not dulled but transmuted into clarity and strength. Severe wounds heighten awareness instead of hindering it.
Lotus of Infinite Stillness – Meditation harmonizes body, mind, and cosmos. Accelerates regeneration, clears afflictions, and allows communion with higher entities or past selves.
Cosmic Scout’s Gaze – Vision expands to perceive terrain, threats, and hidden paths across miles. Perfect for mapping enemy camps, dungeon floors, or celestial landscapes.
Cartographer of Eternity – Maps aren’t just drawn, they are truths. Any land you chart becomes etched into reality itself; illusions collapse, and hidden paths reveal themselves.
Magic Skills
Absolute Mana Sovereignty – Your will overrides the laws of magic. You dictate how mana behaves in your presence — amplifying, nullifying, or rewriting its flow. Spellcasters are as children in your domain.
Cosmic Transmutation Nexus – Energy, matter, and essence are interchangeable under your hand. Transform stamina into mana, mana into health, health into cosmic energy. Even convert enemy attacks into resources for yourself.
Singularity Abyss Core – A fusion of crushing gravity and devouring void. Summons black-hole singularities that not only pull matter but consume light, mana, and soul-force — erasing foes from reality.
Paradox Genesis – Harmonizes divine light and abyssal dark into one paradoxical force. Heals and corrupts at once, sanctifies and profanes. Creates duality zones where allies are empowered and enemies collapse under existential contradiction.
Infinite Dimensional Dominion – Complete authority over space. Fold distance to nothing, split dimensions, rewrite coordinates. Every battlefield becomes your map, every position your choice.
Primordial Elemental Convergence – Fuse fire, water, earth, air, lightning, ice, void, and more into living phenomena. Forge new, higher elements (plasma storms, entropy fire, void-ice) that defy mortal comprehension.
Astral Mindweb Nexus – Minds connect into a seamless web. Allows instant communication across planets, shared sensory links, and group precognition. Enemy thoughts flicker at the edges of your perception, ripe for manipulation.
Genesis Restoration – Heals not only flesh but soul, memory, and even severed timelines. Can reverse curses, mend destroyed lands, or resurrect allies against cosmic odds.
Divine Ascendant Authority – Light of judgment and mercy flows through you. Holy magic at your command manifests as literal divine law, purging corruption, enforcing peace, and striking down false gods.
Radiant Stellar Supremacy – Harness starlight, solar flares, and the brilliance of cosmic dawn. Light burns through dimensions, blinds even the soulless, and carries the fire of creation itself.
Abyss-Crowned Dominion – Shadows stretch into infinity. Darkness becomes substance; devouring, restraining, and consuming all it touches. Within the shadows, your will is law.
Dimensional Sovereign Affinity – Refined command over folds, rifts, and pocket realities. Allows creation of personalized dimensions that serve as fortresses, prisons, or sanctuaries.
Stellar Collapse Authority – Gravity obeys you, bend planetary alignments, collapse foes into singularities, walk as though burdenless in any field. Each strike carries the weight of a star.
Void Apex Sovereignty – The abyss within obeys. Summon hungering darkness that consumes thought, faith, and form. Abyssal magic no longer corrupts the wielder — instead, it crowns you as its master.
Perception
Battlefield Singularity Awareness – Perceives every motion, trajectory, and intent on a battlefield as if frozen in clarity, no ambush or feint can escape your notice.
Celestial Predator’s Domain – All senses transcend mortal limits: smell, hearing, sight, taste, and touch become cosmic in scope, tracing prey across dimensions and veils.
Dimensional Thermal Sight – Perceives heat across realities, mapping anomalies in both physical and spatial layers — nothing can hide behind walls, illusions, or time-folds.
Empyrean Compass – A world-sense evolved: you can orient yourself perfectly across any plane, dungeon, or lattice. Always knows the path toward destiny, danger, or desire.
Essence Perception – Spiritual Perception ascended, read not just souls but their resonance, karma, and hidden ties; every aura tells its full story.
Kinetic Dominion Sense – Kinetic Awareness evolved into command-level: every motion around you slows in your perception, allowing instant prediction and counteraction.
Treasure-Seeker’s Providence – Detects not just treasure, but the legend tied to it, artifacts, cursed relics, and hidden vaults reveal themselves through resonance.
Weakness Revelation – Sense Weakness ascended, identifies not just physical flaws but conceptual ones: enemy pride, armor enchantments, and even fate’s fractures.
Resistances:
Aegis of Cataclysm – Physical blows, from fists to meteor strikes, disperse harmlessly across your frame. Kinetic force is absorbed, redirected, or nullified.
Edgebane Sovereignty – Blades, claws, and cutting winds cannot bite you. Sharp edges fracture or blunt when striking your form, turning lethal slashes into harmless grazes.
Void-Piercing Nullification – Arrows, lances, and even conceptual “piercing” effects fail. Any attack meant to puncture is devoured into void static before reaching your flesh.
Primordial Elemental Aegis – Fire, frost, lightning, poison, acid, and other elemental forces cascade against you and are absorbed into radiant equilibrium, reducing devastation to warmth or light tingles.
Profane Flesh Ascendant – Maladies, necrotic damage, and corruption cannot claim you. Curses sear against your skin only to rebound upon their caster, your body metabolizing hexes into raw vitality.
Sovereign Mind Bastion – Mind-control, illusions, compulsions, and psychic intrusions are shattered by your indomitable will. Your consciousness is a citadel where even gods find no purchase.
Heart of Equilibrium – Rage, despair, lust, and fear cannot sway you. Emotional manipulation collapses on contact, while your aura stabilizes allies’ hearts into calm clarity and defiance.
Social
All-Seeing Empath’s Revelation – Reads not only emotions but the soul’s resonance: hidden desires, karmic ties, and subconscious truths. No lie, mask, or divine glamour can veil intent.
Apex Predator’s Perfect Senses – Every sense operates on cosmic precision, reading micro-expressions, heartbeats, pheromones, and astral resonance. You perceive the unspoken and the unseen in every interaction.
Unbound Sovereign Will – Your spirit is untouchable. Neither magic, gods, nor systems can bind, charm, or dominate you; attempts collapse and backlash with devastating clarity.
Eclipsed Persuasion of Eternity – Words bend the wills of gods and mortals alike. Your speech rewrites memory, belief, and even history itself for those who hear and accept.
Silver Eclipse Tongue – Seduction transcends mortal charm, your voice and presence radiate allure so powerful it weaves glamour into reality, making fantasies indistinguishable from truth.
Demiurge Command of Creation – Your mere presence compels obedience and inspiration; armies, mobs, and rulers move as if by divine mandate. Even enemies feel compelled to kneel or follow.
Mask of Infinite Faces – Personas are no longer disguises but truths. When you adopt a role, reality bends to accept it, kings, gods, and legends see only what you embody.
Chapter 15
Notes:
I dont remember if I promised sex this chapter when I posted yesterday's chapters, but there is no sexual contact in this chapter except for some light kissing. No kinky games either. I know I am a terrible person. Instead we get....character development! Yay!
Chapter Text
The doors of ice and steel groaned open. Frost spilled from the widening gap like smoke from a corpse, curling low across the stone. Each breath sharpened into knives, the cold gnawing straight to marrow.
The chamber beyond was titanic, a towering cathedral of ice and darkness. Spear-like stalactites descended from unseen heights, runes inscribed in the icy sheet of a floor like frozen veins. The air hummed with killing intent, so thick it seemed to weigh down every movement.
At its center stood the Frost Giant Champion.
Twenty feet tall, his glacier-blue armor looked less forged than grown, slabs of frozen mountain granite that fused into plate, every seam glowing faintly with ancient frost runes. His weapon, a monstrous axe of crystalline ice taller than Torric, radiated killing frost. His breath was fog and thunder; each exhalation made the air moan like a storm. His eyes fixed on Torric with raw recognition: predator meeting predator.
The doors slammed shut behind Torric with thunderous finality. Silence fell.
The Champion raised his axe and brought it down in challenge, the slab of crystal cleaving into the ice floor. The ground split in a jagged fissure, the boom echoing like war drums across the frozen cathedral.
Torric stepped forward, calm as starlight. His obsidian skin caught the pale glow, constellations shifting along his stripes as though the universe itself stirred within him. His six wings unfurled in layered majesty, blotting out the weak dungeon torchlight. His claws flexed, each tip burning faintly with ghost-fire.
“Let’s see what you’ve got,” he murmured, voice low, sharp with hunger.
The Frost Giant moved first. Despite his bulk, he surged forward with the speed of an avalanche breaking free. His axe descended in a diagonal sweep meant to split both sky and prey.
Torric’s Event Horizon Reflex flared. For him, the moment fractured and time folded in half. The axe blurred harmlessly past, splitting stone where he had stood. Frost geysers erupted as shards tore upward. In that heartbeat of skipped time, Torric slid sideways, claws igniting in starlight. He struck with Trifold Execution. The first blow tore through rune carved armor, sparks and shards exploding outward. The second rattled bone, shock reverberating through the Champion’s colossal frame. The third carved deep, voidfire spilling across the wound, devouring flesh that froze and burned at once.
The Champion howled, a roar that shook stalactites loose from the frozen ceiling. He wrenched his axe free, swung in a wide arc, too wide, too heavy to even come close to being a threat to the speedy, agile celestial tiger. The axe blade scraped across the ground, sending up a tsunami of frozen shrapnel.
Torric’s Kinetic Dominion Sense showed the trajectory before the giant even finished the swing. He dove inside the swing, wings propelling him upward. His fist, wreathed in eclipse fire, crashed into the giant’s jaw with a Heavenbreaker Uppercut.
The strike connected with the echoing crack of thunder and bone breaking together as one. The Champion’s head snapped back, his feet leaving the ground for a heartbeat. He crashed down like a collapsing tower, half the arena floor fracturing under his weight.
Torric backed off, allowing the frost giant to rise once again. Icy blue blood dripped from his lips, hissing where it struck the ruined floor. The giant roared again and this time the dungeon itself answered.
The ground convulsed. Jagged ice spears erupted from all directions, converging on Torric like a forest of killing intent.
Torric didn’t flinch. His Eclipse Skin flared, obsidian stripes gleaming with starlight. Spears of ice shattered harmlessly against his celestial skin, shards exploding outwards into showers of frost-fire. Some fragments even reversed their momentum, searing into the Champion’s flesh in bursts of flaming black voidlight.
Torric surged upward, wings propelling him like a comet. His body ignited with silver-black flame.
Starfall Cataclysm.
He crashed down with meteoric force, the impact detonating across the chamber. The shockwave cratered the already destroyed ice floor, fissures spiderwebbing outward. The Champion reeled, one knee driving into the shattered ground, half his glacier armor blasted to ruin.
But still he did not fall.
The Frost Giant pushed himself upright, both hands gripping his axe. Runes along the weapon flared blinding blue, the dungeon itself pouring strength into its Champion. His next swing came down like an avalanche made manifest, a blow that could have erased fortresses from the material plain had it landed.
Torric did not dodge.
He planted his feet, claws glowing with annihilation light, and raised one hand.
Absolute Penetration. He activated the Skill without a second to spare.
The world screamed as claws met axe. The crystalline weapon split down its length with a shriek of shattering ice, fragments raining like meteors. The killing blow collapsed into nothing but sparks and shards.
The Champion stared in disbelief, his pride and joy, his weapon that had never once failed him, destroyed in a single strike.
Torric stepped forward. His eyes swirled with nebulae, his wings casting the room into eclipse shadow. His voice was soft, reverent, final: “Respect to the prey that fights to the end.”
His claws ignited. Eclipse Rend of Oblivion.
The first strike obliterated what remained of the giant’s armor and eradicated his defense.
The second cut went deeper, driving through flesh, through bone, through to the soul and beyond.
The third carved existence itself. Carved the giant from the System and its Records.
The Frost Giant Champion howled, his body unraveling into motes of black light surrounded by a prismatic white glow. His essence came apart thread by thread, memory and form stripped from the System’s record. One moment he was there, roaring defiance, the next he was gone, erased as if he had never been.
Silence reigned. Frost still cascaded from the broken ceiling, but no enemy remained. The dungeon floor still steamed from where ice had been melted, glowing faintly where Torric’s power had burned reality itself.
Torric stood at the center of the crater, claws dripping voidlight, chest rising and falling steady. From beyond the barrier, Senshia’s voice carried across the frozen chamber, proud and edged like a blade:
“No contempt. No cruelty. You gave him a predator’s death. A warrior’s death. Well done, little kitten.”
Torric swiped sweat from his brow, his grin sharp and wild. He turned toward the sealed doors where his companions waited.
“That,” he crowed, voice reverberating through the ruins of the arena, “Was. Awesome!”
“You did very well.” Meidron praised him, wrapping an arm around Torric’s waist and kissing him deeply, ignoring the melting shards of ice that covered Torric’s body.
“Come loot your Champion’s Chest, oh great one.” Liam called from next to the fallen giant.
A large chest that appeared to be made entirely of solid gold had appeared next to the frost giant’s corpse. Even with the lid closed the chest was a few inches taller than Torric’s hip, 2 feet wide, and long enough for an average sized human 10 year old to comfortably lay down in.
Torric padded forward, claws clicking faintly against fractured ice. He circled it once, tail flicking like a predator toying with prey. “System really wants me to feel special, huh?”
“Or to test you again,” Senshia’s voice cut across the chamber from the door, her tone cool but edged with pride. "Sometimes the System likes to throw a random encounter out of chests."
Torric crouched before the chest, resting a clawed hand atop the glowing lid. The runes pulsed brighter at his touch, resonating with his own nebula glow. He glanced back at Meidron and Liam, eyes swirling with stars. “Shall we see what I’ve earned?”
Meidron’s smile curved like a blade. “Claim it. Let the Tower know whose claws carved the right to it.”
With a sharp exhale, Torric threw the lid open. Golden light erupted in a beam that speared toward the cathedral ceiling, scattering fractured frost like falling stars. The air hummed with raw System energy as the loot revealed itself, each prize floating above the chest like constellations awaiting his grasp.
[Glacierheart Core] – Legendary Crafting Material
- A condensed shard of the Frost Giant Champion’s soul. Pulses with endless winter.
- Use: Can be forged into armor or weapons to grant Immunity to Cold Damage or Aura of Winter’s Hunger (drains stamina from enemies within 10m).
- Note: Core may also serve as a catalyst for evolving cold/void hybrid Skills.
[Runebreaker Greataxe] – Epic Weapon (Soulbound Eligible)
- Carved from shattered crystalline ice, reforged in System fire.
- Damage: Massive, scales with Strength and Resolve.
- Passive: Frost Cleave – Wide swings leave trails of ice that slow enemies.
- Active: Avalanche Strike – Slam the weapon to the ground, creating a shockwave of frost that erupts in a cone.
[ Mantle of the Rimeforged] – Legendary Cloak
- A cloak woven of frostfire threads, trimmed in aurora shimmer.
- Effect: Constant Cold Resistance +50%. Immunity to environmental freeze.
- Passive Aura: Blizzard Shroud – Within 15m, visibility for enemies is halved; allied stealth rolls increased.
[Obsidian-Frost Bracers] – Epic Armor (Light/Medium)
- Effect: +15% Attack Speed, +10% Critical Damage.
- Unique: Voidfrost Reversal – Whenever struck by frost damage, retaliates with a pulse of voidfire (scales with Willpower).
[Rune-Tome of Glacial Binding] – Rare Skillbook
- Grants the Skill: Glacial Shackles.
- Creates chains of frost that restrain up to 3 enemies for 5 seconds. If enemies break free, they suffer 30% frost damage backlash.
[Champion’s Tribute – 5,000,000 EXP]
Awarded for solo completion of an Elite Boss.
Bonus Multiplier: +50% (Solo clear).
Total Awarded: 7,500,000 EXP
[Champion’s Purse]
1,000 D-grade Astral Coins.
“Pretty impressive haul, little kitten.” Senshia told him. Her golden eyes flicked over the floating System panes, cool and calculating. “Equip the bracers. That attack speed and crit buff will suit you perfectly. The greataxe-” she gestured dismissively “-sell it. A terrible weapon for all three of you. It’s built for raw power and reach, not precision. Also none of you are big enough to wield it properly. But because it’s soul-bondable, it’ll fetch an absurd price at auction.”
Meidron leaned in, eyes glittering. “Enough to fund a small fortress. Don’t underestimate the collector crowd. Some rich fool will pay thrice its worth just to hang it on a wall and tell stories over wine.”
“The cloak,” Senshia went on, ignoring him, “is trickier. You’ll run into more ice floors as you climb, so it could save your life, but cold resistant gear is pretty common. You'll find stronger resistances in time as you go deeper, especially in the lattice, where you can find all kinds of wondrous objects. However it is Legendary, and that is nothing to sneeze at. Keep it if you’re cautious, sell it if you’re greedy.”
“Or fashionable,” Liam quipped, already miming a dramatic swirl of fabric around his shoulders. “Imagine me, entering a feast with a Blizzard Shroud billowing behind me.”
Torric snorted. “It would hide your smug face. Tempting.”
Liam gasped in mock offense, then grinned wider.
“And the core?” Torric asked, growing serious again.
“Keep it,” Senshia said without hesitation. “Until you find a crafter who actually understands materials of that level. A Glacierheart Core is foundation-grade. By itself, it’s inert. But paired with the right alloys and techniques?” She spread her hands. “Weapons or enchanted equipment that will outlive dynasties.”
Torric’s tail lashed in satisfaction. “Good. And the Skill tome?”
She shrugged, casual in the way only someone ancient could be. “Glacial Shackles is useful, control abilities almost always are. But you aren’t an ice mage. Your lumin aren’t built for frost either. You already have control options that outclass it as well. Keep it for trade, or sell to someone who thinks roots and chains are worth the mana.”
Torric tilted his head, ears flicking. “You keep saying lumin and luminature. What’s the difference?”
Senshia’s lips curved faintly, as though pleased he finally asked. “A lumin is the individual bond. Meidron, Liam, any who are tied to you. A luminature is the totality of those bonds. The collective web that forms when every thread knots together.” She gestured with two fingers, as if tugging invisible strings. “A lumin is the banker. The luminature is the building they work in. You are the owner of the bank. Of course, that is an imperfect explanation.
Now. We just speed ran 50 floors with very little rest. We’ll stop at the 51st floor safe zone for a solid 10 hour rest. This is when we will be running into people from other worlds, so be on your best behavior. And Torric no going anywhere alone. You might have jumped up massively in level and grade but your combat experience is practically nonexistent and you have the survival skills of a wet piece of paper in a rain storm.” Senshia continued.
Torric narrowed his eyes, tail lashing behind him in irritation. “A wet piece of paper? Really?”
Meidron chuckled, lounging with predatory ease. “She’s not wrong. Beautiful paper. Divine paper. But soggy all the same. Limp.”
“I was going to show you how limp I’m not feeling, but maybe I’ll save my limp body for Liam.
The man in question smothered a laugh behind his hand, though his eyes were warm. “She means you’ll learn, Torric. That’s what we’re here for.”
Torric huffed, folding his arms. “I survived Praetoria, Bahumet’s crucible, and forty-six worlds being rammed through my soul. Forgive me if I don’t feel like ‘wet paper.’
Senshia’s star filled gaze cut through his protest. “And yet, none of that taught you how to gut a raider before he guts you. Power without practice is only dry tinder, waiting for the first spark to burn it all away.”
Her aura pressed just enough to make his hackles rise. “You’ll learn, child. Or you’ll die with your brilliance unused. Now come on. I want a bath.”
They followed her out the doors of the boss room and through the swirling purple portal that led to the 51st floor safe zone.
Like the other safe zones they’d passed through it looked like a city from the surface had been picked up whole and set down in the middle of a dungeon. All the safe zones before possessed mostly the architecture he had begun to associate with Sol’feyra. Here the buildings and architecture were widely varied both in design and materials used for construction.
He’d never before seen such an ecelectic mix of buildings. Most people were still Sol’freyan, but there were a lot of other races, too. Some he had seen before, like many of the beastkin who crossed paths with them as Senshia led them deeper into the undeeground city.
The beastkin all stopped in their travel, making the same two fingered salute to their forehead that everyone else had.
“They view us as emisarries of the beast mother.” Senshia answered his question the moment he opened his mouth to ask it. “If your god was walking down the street befote you, would you not stop and show a sign of respect?”
“I suppose. But they have to be from different worlds, why would they recognize us as their gods? Don’t their own worlds habe gods to worship?”
“Almost everyone you’ll run into between here and the lattice will be from celestine controlled space. That means they are worshipped as the primary deities of thoae worlds. And I dont mean just a few planets. Celestine controlled space stretches across hundreds, maybe thousands of worlds. Not all of them will worship Bahumet specifically, after all there are 13 known celestines, but they will still respect you even if they don’t follow the same heavenly path.”
“That said, not all celestines get along.” Meidron added as they walked. “The human celestine fights with almost everyone, for instance. And consequently, so does humanity.”
Torric arched a brow, the faint glow of his starry eyes reflecting torchlight as they passed a merchant stall. “Typical. So races mirror their gods, or is it the other way around?”
“Both,” Senshia said evenly, her tail flicking behind her as priests bowed low in their path. “When gods quarrel, their creations bleed. When mortals and rankers quarrel, gods use it as justification to settle older feuds. Humanity is always the loudest about their belief that they should dominate all things because they are the most numerous, and their celestine is as well.”
Meidron smirked, lowering his voice just for Torric. “It’s a cosmic family squabble, writ across thousands of worlds. But heavens help you if you aren’t a follower of one of the celestines and you come for their children. All of the 13 races will come down on you. Hard.”
“Praetoria was a human world but it was attacked.” Torric pointed out.
“Praetoria is a human world and humanity was created by the celestine of humans, but most raced have expanded far past their original borders. More than half of humanity does not worship the celestine who birthed them, following gods of their own making. Praetoria was one such place. So while it was a human held world it did not exist in celestine controlled space.” Senshia answered.
She stopped before a broad-fronted building, its archway marked not with letters but with three carved emblems: a bed, a mug, and a twist of grain.
“Sleeping space, drinks, and food,” she explained, pointing to each in turn. “Out here, not everyone has translation Skills, and not every world shares the same script. So the various guilds and governments established a set of universal glyphs to mark vital services in safe zones a long time ago. Bed for lodging, mug for tavern, grain for meals. You’ll find others as you travel. Crossed blades for smiths, a green cross for healers, a shield for the local guard, that kind of thing. It keeps misunderstandings down and saves lives when travelers are half-dead and desperate for help.”
“So we will be sleeping here?” He asked.
“Yep. The propriator is a sleeking that I’m friendly with and I arranged for us to rest here when I was on my way up to get you.”
“What is a sleeking?” Torric muttered to himself, confused by the unfamiliar term.
“A sleeking is a shapeshifter,” Senshia answered, her ears twitching as she’d cpearly overheard his muttered question. “Their natural forms look like amorphous blobs of water-gel. All liquid muscle and way too many eyes. Most prefer to wear a vaguely humanoid shape when dealing with other races. Otherwise they look too much like slime monsters and no one likes those.”
Meidron smirked. “They make excellent innkeepers. Fluid bodies, fluid morals. If you can pay, they’ll house you, feed you, and keep your secrets locked up tighter than their ledgers.”
“They also know everything that happens in their walls,” Liam added quietly, eyes scanning the bustling street. “If a sleeking is offering you shelter, it isn’t just hospitality. It’s surveillance.”
Torric frowned faintly, intrigued despite himself. “So we’re sleeping under the roof of a many-eyed spy-slime?”
Senshia’s lips quirked. “Better a spy who owes me favors than a stranger who owes me nothing. You’ll be safe here. Safer than most places, at least. Jorkh will be the first to know if someone wants your hide and quick to slip us a warning. And you don’t want to get on its bad side. Just like the slimes they resemble, sleekings can melt the flesh off your bones in seconds if they absorb you. And dont call them slimes. They find it insulting.”
“Got it.”
“And they don’t have genders. Jorkh is an it.”
"Got it.”
They entered the inn to find it looked like just about the same as every inn he’d seen in his short life. Heavy solid looking furniture that would be hard to break in the event a bar fight broke out. The only real difference was it was very clean and well lit.
No dark shadowy corners to brood in here. Just a lively atmosphere with a bard set up in one corner playing jaunty tunes.
A bar on one end of the room held a blue semi-opaque vaguely human shaped creature was wiping down a mug with its tentacles. Its “head” was covered in eyes. The entire head. The orphanage matron’s threat that she had eyes in the back of her head when he’d been growing up no longer seemed quite so funny.
“Sleeking secretions are better than any soap.” Liam murmured in Torric’s ear when he froze. “Now keep going and for the love of the celestines don’t stare.”
Torric’s first instinct was to summon claws. His second was to bolt. He did neither. Instead, he forced his gaze away from the forest of blinking eyes and focused on the mundane details, the polished wooden tables, the smell of roasting meat, the cheerful strum of the bard’s lute. Normal things. Safe things. Definitely not weird freaky tentacle aliens who could dissolve your flesh to bones in seconds.
The tentacles continued their rhythmic polishing, each motion so practiced it was almost hypnotic. The sleeking’s eyes blinked in disjointed sequence, like a constellation rearranging itself at random. When two of them swiveled his way, Torric’s skin prickled.
A weird gap opened in the sleekings head and it took a moment for Torric to realize that it was the creature’s attempt at a welcoming smile.
“Senshia.” The creature greeted her warmly. “You made good time getting back here. Not even 2 full days. This is your ward?” More eyes fixated on Torric, eyes that were alive with curiosity.
“Yes. He was kidnapped from his nest as an infant and grew up in human space uncontrolled by the celestines, so he is a bit sheltered.”
“I know we are all one as we walk the heavenly path but humans give me the creeps.” Jorkh replied. “They’re so aggressive and violent. Especially the pink ones. They’re the worst.”
Torric made a strangled noise before he could stop himself. “Pink ones?”
Jorkh’s head swiveled, many eyes blinking in three different rhythms as though surprised by the question. “Yes. The pale ones. Like half-cooked meat. Always shouting. Always breeding. Always breaking things.”
Liam coughed into his fist, hiding a smirk. “He means fair-skinned humans, Torric.”
“Right.” Torric muttered, dragging a hand over his face. “Of course that’s what he meant.”
“Are you the one the beast mother went on a rampage over?” the blue alien asked, its voice resonating wetly from somewhere deep in its body. “Word of her movements even reached us down here.” He looked at Senshia, to see what she said.
Every eye on Jorkh’s head blinked at a different rhythm, each one sliding toward Torric as if to bore straight through him. For the briefest moment Torric felt as if the sleeking could see every drop of foreign power still swirling inside his aperture, every thread of soul that wasn’t his own.
“Yes this is the one who the beast mother was rampaging over.” Senshia replied. “It would have been fine if that idiot succubus hadn’t Charmed him them carried him off to steal his seed.”
“So that is why Ciedrak and her entire house and lineage was cursed? Or are you speaking of a different succubus?”
“Same one.” Senshia answered. “Do you have kitchen space for his lumin to cook for him? Torric has been going all day with very few rest breaks. We speed ran down to 50 then he soloed the floor boss. He could use a recharge.”
“Sure thing. Ffiffnibit!” Jorkh yelled out a name and an elongated many eyed teal green head stretched out from behind a nearby door.
“You shrieked?”
“Help his eminence’s luminature prepare his meal. Standard purification of the workspace before you cook. I dont want undevoted food to contaminate his meal.”
“Sure thing, boss.” The head retracted itself.
“Go on through.” Jorkh told Meidron and Liam. Meidron left, but Liam stayed with him. Mostly because Liam, being a former prince, had absolutely no idea how to cook anything at all.
“Are you going to eat down here or in your rooms?” Jorkh asked.
“Down here, please?” Torric gave his guardian an entreating look. “There are so many races I’ve never seen or even heard about. I want to learn more about them.”
A ripple of silence passed through the common room. Dozens of faces, furred, scaled, angular, and faceted, turned toward him. Even though everyone had been acting like he and Senshia werr normal guests, it was clear they had been subtly watching, and listening in on every word passed between the three.The casual chatter, the bard’s tune, even the clatter of mugs faltered as word spread like wildfire: the Beast Mother’s lost cub would dine among them, the one who she wiped out ⅓ of an empire for.
Senshia’s starlit eyes narrowed in appraisal, but she gave the smallest of nods. “Very well. But understand, when you eat in public, you are not Torric the rescued slave. You are Celivor Veythari, a proud celestial tiger, the youngest and currently most beloved son of the beast mother. Do not shame her name with your behavior.”
“Yes ma’am.” He replied meekly, ears pinned back to his head, heat in his ceeks.
Senshia led him to a mostly empty table and they sat down, every eye in the inn upon them.
A beastkin girl, who looked even younger than he did, cautiously approached under Senshia’s watchful gaze. She had ears like a wolf, gold eyes, and a tail so fluffy it seemed too big for her small frame. That tail wagged in nervous, eager arcs, betraying her awe.
She knelt before him, fingers pressed reverently to her forehead. “Eminence,” she whispered, voice trembling. “It is an honor to be in your presence.”
Torric’s throat tightened, but he managed a soft, steady, “Thank you.”
Her ears flicked back in nervousness, but her eyes burned bright as she asked, “May I… may I offer you devotion?” The words tumbled out reverently, like a prayer rehearsed a hundred times.
“Yes,” Torric said at once, but then his lips quirked, faintly boyish despite the cosmos swimming in his eyes. “But only if you join us. And while you’re at it, tell me about yourself while I wait for my meal.”
For a heartbeat she froze, wide-eyed. Then her tail exploded into frantic motion, thumping against the floor so hard the nearby patrons chuckled softly despite themselves. The room seemed to breathe again, tension breaking on the sound of her tail drumming against the floor like a war drum of joy.
He extended a slender hand towards the girl, who took it as if it were made of the most precious, valuable, and fragile crystal goblet that could be purchased.
Lily Howling Moon would like to transfer one broken slave collar to you.
Would you like to accept?
Y / N
Torric’s breath caught. “What?” he whispered aloud, blinking at the unexpected System pane.
The girl bowed her head lower, ears pressed flat in humility, her tail curling tightly around her legs. “I was freed because of you,” she said softly, words trembling but unshakable. “After Praetoria fell, many humans feared the Beast Mother’s wrath. They freed us. Some out of guilt, some out of fear. I… kept my collar. I swore to myself that if I ever met you, I would give it to you. To thank you. To honor you.”
She dared to look up, gold eyes wide with reverence. “I even made the journey to Solstheen for this chance.”
He took his hand back from her, then gently stroked the curve of her cheek. “I will treasure your devotion all of my days.”
She turned bright red at his gentle touch.
Around the rooms were murmurs as the watchers reacted. A former slave giving one of the Luminari not coin or valuables as was the traditoonal offer of devotion, but a single broken slave collar. And rather than being angered at being presented with literal trash he told her that he would cherish the gift for all his days.
The System pane pulsed once more.
You have accepted a token of freedom.
Devotion received: +1,000.
Reputation gained: Protector of the Freed.
The words burned across his vision like starlight. A new title, born from the act of cherishing what most would have cast aside.
Some of the beastkin in the room wept openly. A scaled warrior at the bar bowed his head. Even Jorkh paused in its endless tentacle-polishing, a dozen eyes blinking slow and contemplative as though it were committing this moment to memory.
Senshia’s star strewn eyes gleamed, sharp and assessing. “And so the myth grows,” she murmured, just loud enough for Torric and only Torric to hear.
Liam’s hand found his under the table, squeezing once, steady, his grin was razor-bright.
“You don’t even know what you’ve just done, little star,” Liam whispered softly. “But they do.”
All across the room, eyes shone with devotion that crossed the border imto worship.
A line of beastkin formed behind Lily. Torric gently pulled her up from her kneeling position at his feet, directing her to sit across from him.
Then came the procession. Former slaves, freed in the wake of Praetoria’s fall, stepped forward one by one. Each bore a collar, a chain, a brand, or some other token of bondage they could not destroy but gladly surrendered to him. Others came empty-handed, offering instead the weapons that had scarred their bodies, or trembling hands cupped in reverence.
He greeted each one with the gravity of a priest at sacrament. He embraced those who clutched at him weeping, his starry stripes flaring gently to ease their grief. He spoke kindly to scarred warriors as they knelt before him, his claws brushing their foreheads in blessing before they laid down their blades.
And still more came: beastkin who had never been slaves, yet were drawn by the tide of devotion and rumor that swelled around him like a storm. They brought him trinkets, scraps of food, even just whispered prayers. Torric accepted each with equal solemnity, bowing his head as though every gift were a relic beyond price.
By the time the last supplicant withdrew, his meal sat forgotten and cooling at his elbow. The air was thick with devotion, clouds of it so dense the very inn seemed to glow.
He hadn’t done it for the power, or the followers, or the flood of System notifications now whispering at the edges of his mind. He had done it because it was right. Because once, not so long ago, he would have given anything to have someone look him in the eye and say: You matter. You are free. You are seen.
And now, he could be that someone for them.
Liam warmed his food for him using magic when the last of the supplicants had been greeted. The inn was so full of people that you could barely move. Every seat was filled, the aisles packed with people, the walls lined with bodies packed together.
Instead of sending them away or hiding behind his guardian’s authority, Torric turned toward them. He ate in measured bites, and between each he listened. Not passively. He truly listened. He asked for names. For stories. He gave the same care to a trembling novice as to a scarred veteran of a dozen worlds.
He cheered with them when a young beastkin scout told of her first solo dungeon floor clear. He laughed at the bawdy jokes of an orc mercenary who swore half his scars were from beds rather than battlefields. He bowed his head in solemn grief when a scaled matron spoke of the children she had lost to the chains of a distant world.
No one was left out. No voice was ignored.
Even as devotion thickened around him like incense smoke, even as System notifications whispered at the edge of his vision, he gave himself fully to each moment. To each person. By the time his plate was emptied for the last time, he had woven himself into a hundred lives, a hundred stories, with nothing more than words and attention.
To those who watched, it was not just divinity they saw. It was the impossible: a god who would kneel to hear them speak.
Senshia’s hand came down gently on his shoulder as Torric’s energy began to flag, he has given so much of himself. “You need to rest, kitten.” She told him kindly. “You have given too much of yourself tonight, and after working hard to delve the dungeons.”
He nodded numbly, bidding the gathered crowd a good night as he was led up the stairs to where their rented bedrooms were waiting.
Senshia left him in the tender care of his two lumin. He was dead on his feet as Liam and Meidron carefully helped him out of his clothes and into bed, with the demon butler using a spell that left all three of them as fresh and clean as if they had just had a bath.
Torric snuggled against Meidron, half on top of his torso, wings spread out across all three of them while Liam curled up on his other side, one arm slung low over Torric’s hip. He fell asleep between them purring contently.
Chapter 16
Notes:
There are lots of spiders in this chapter. ;Also heights. If you have arachnophobia or problems with yawning chasms where you could fall to your death, I would recommend skipping it. There is minor oral sex literally as soon as you get past this note, but otherwise there's not any sexual content in this chapter. There is however dungeon crawling ending with a boss fight. Also one character tells another to kill themselves, but it isn't serious and is more to make a (shocking) point.
Chapter Text
When he woke many hours later he was on his back and Meidron’s mouth wrapped around his cock.
“Mmmmm.” He moaned, hands instinctively moving down to his incubus’s head and stroking his hair as he fellated him.
He did not stop the incubus, enjoying his oral ministrations as Meidron brought him to the brink, and then over the edge, spilling his seed down his throat. He laid his head on Torric’s thigh when he finished cumming, sighing happily.
“Shouldn’t I be the happy one?” Torric teased. “That was a great way to wake up.”
“Trust me. As an incubus who is also your lumin, that was very, very good for me too. I just got a double dose of energy all for the low, low cost of sucking your cock, an action I would gladly undertake even without the additional benefits. Every day. No. Multiple times a day.”
“You would have to fight me for him.” Liam spoke from the door.
Torric turned his gaze to his elven lover. “Where have you been?” He asked, holding out a hand in invitation to join them in bed.
“I was collecting your offerings of devotion. People have been leaving them downstairs for you the entire time you’ve been asleep. Which has been a while, but Senshia said to let you rest after you gave so much of yourself yesterday.”
“Gave so much of myself? All I did was listen to their stories and talk with them. It was the least I could do.”
“You were feeding energy into every single one of them. Every word, every touch, every hug. Every time you wiped away their tears. I could sense it.” Liam replied, joining them.
“Me too.” Meidron replied. “It's like you were a reverse incubus, giving bits of yourself to them instead of taking bits of them. What is your devotion at?”
He checked, blinking at what he saw. It had gone up by more than a billion. His devotion points had surged as well as a result. He’d also acquired 2 new Blessings.
Blessing of the Unshackled Path
Channel Bahumet’s roar of freedom to break chains both physical and spiritual. Removes bindings, compulsions, or enslaving contracts imposed by magic, curse, or oath. Grants the recipient resistance to domination effects, mind control, or forced servitude. If used on those recently freed from bondage, permanently increases Resolve and Presence, and marks them as Unshackled , making them immune to being enslaved once again against their will. Outside combat: Can be invoked to consecrate sites of liberation, sanctify the breaking of chains, or imbue tools/weapons used in uprisings with divine resonance. It radiates a palpable aura of defiance against tyranny, inspiring others to rise.
Blessing of the Dawning Flame
Summon Bahumet’s inner fire to rekindle hope in those whose spirits have been dimmed. Restores morale, dispels despair, depression, and spiritual numbness. Fills recipients with renewed courage, clarity, and the will to keep living. Grants a regeneration effect to Willpower and Spirit, and in combat temporarily boosts Accuracy and Crit Chance as Hope’s Edge sharpens their strikes. Outside combat: May be used to uplift the downtrodden, heal trauma-scars of the soul, or bless communities suffering hopelessness. When invoked on gatherings, it creates a Lumin Hearth , a lingering aura of warmth and safety that restores emotional resilience to all who remain within and provides a minor regenerative effect on HP, MP, SP, and morale.
“But how?” He asked. “How long have I been asleep?”
“About 14 hours.” Meidron answered. “And in all that time word has been spreading throughout the dungeons of what you did.”
“But I didn’t do anything?”
“You gave yourself to slaves.” Liam pointed out.
“Exslaves.” Torric corrected.
“Still. Most Luminari don’t give a shit about their worshippers. They treat it as a matter of fact. Something that is owed to them. They rarely give back. Rarely minister. Rarely hand out Blessings.”
“You act like it is a gift. A precious gift and not something owed to you.” Meidron added. “You cherish them. The people are responding to that. Especially since you are ministering to what most people consider the lowest of the low.”
“I’m just doing what is right.”
“Very few would agree. The Luminari aren’t exactly common, each Celestine makes a new child but once in 1,000 years and could end up seeded anywhere in their controlled spaces.” Liam explained.
“Their names, appearances, abilities, domains are all religiously tracked, literally, by the cults that spring up around them.” He continued. “You are not behaving the way they do. Not even remotely close. Which is why your name is being spread far and wide. It will both put you in greater danger as your fame grows, but also protect you, for the same reasons.”
“You are rapidly becoming adopted by the common people.” Meidron added. “I keep track of the System chatter involving your name. The lesser rankers, the mortals, and the enslaved all feel strongly like you belong to them. And the high rankers want to own you in order to gain access to that loyalty.”
Threshold of Devotion Met, System Event Triggered:
The Legend of Freedom’s Protector
Your name and deeds have begun to spread beyond your sight across the multiverse.
Word of how you cherish the lowest of society has echoed beyond your presence, spreading across worlds and permanently entering the System Records.
Effect: Devotion gain from freedfolk and common mortals increased by 50%. Fame among high-rankers increased significantly.
Warning: As your fame spreads so will those who covet you. Threat risk amplified.
“Huh.” Torric mumbled, reading his new notification. “Look at this.” He told his lovers, making the notification visible.
“Oh wow you already have a Legend?” Meidron replied excitedly.
“What is a Legend?”
Meidron’s grin widened, sharp with pride. “A Legend is a story the System itself chooses to immortalize. Not just a Title, and it's not a Blessing. It’s when word of your personal deeds grow to such a level that they literally etch themselves into the Records. They become unalterable.”
Liam leaned against the bedframe, his voice steadier, more pragmatic. “There are Titles, there are Myths, and above those are Legends. A Title marks achievement. A Myth is what others believe about you. But a Legend…” He gestured to the pane. “A Legend becomes an unalienable truth about you. Even if someone killed you, the System would remember you. It would take serious god tier magic to erase you from the Records now.”
Torric frowned, ears twitching. “So now the System thinks I’m some kind of a… protector of freedom?”
“No, little star.” Meidron’s eyes gleamed with delight. “The System has declared you are one because the multiverse believes that is who and what you are. That truth will ripple out through every world in its lattice. You can’t take it back, even if you wanted to.”
He blinked at that, tail flicking uneasily. “I didn’t do it to become some great legend. I just… did what was right.”
“And that,” Liam said softly, “is exactly why it became a Legend.”
“I’m going to go make you breakfast.” Meidron announced. “You talk to this with Senshia. And maybe work on spending those devotion points since you have refreshed them.”
He kissed Torric’s temple, then slipped from the room, barbed tail flicking with satisfaction, leaving Torric with Liam.
Torric quickly got dressed, not wanting to meet with Senshia nude. The idea made him feel vulnerable in a way he didn’t like. Only once he was presentable did he shoot her a System message inviting her to his room.
She appeared almost before the message pane faded, slipping into his room so quickly Torric startled. She must have been waiting outside his door. Then again, her quarters were next to his; if she was there she would not have very far to travel.
“You have a Legend,” Senshia said in lieu of greeting, her starlit eyes fixed on him.
Torric blinked. “How do you know?”
“New Legends shine,” she replied, voice edged like a blade drawn in the dark. “To those who already carry one, the resonance is unmistakable. It hasn’t fully settled into your aura yet. It flickers, half-written. Technically, it could still be erased from the Records.” Her tail flicked once, deliberate. “But only for a few days. After that, it will root itself, and not even gods will be able to easily strike it out.”
“So I could reject it?”
You could,” Senshia allowed, voice smooth as ice over steel. “The System would let you refuse. But understand what that means. Legends are anchors. They root your story in the Records. Strip that away, and you will drift. Your Devotion will bleed. Your Evolutions will stumble. A Luminari without Legends is like a star with no gravity; bright, but burning itself to ash within centuries.”
Her tail flicked again, deliberate. “Accept it. Wield it. Power is not shameful, little kitten. It is survival. Now what Legend have you acquired?”
Torric pulled the pane into view. The words glowed between them, stark and unyielding.
Senshia read, then inclined her head with slow gravity. “Fitting.” A faint smile curved her lips, though it was more blade than warmth. “An appropriate Legend for one the people already name the Shackled God. You broke your own chains, so now the multiverse demands you break the chains of others. It was inevitable.”
She let the pane fade and looked at him with a weight that pressed deeper than her words. “Do you see now? You cannot run from what you are. Not anymore. You carry their hope in your stripes, and their freedom in your claws. That is what the System has written. That is what you will be judged by.”
Torric’s ears flattened against his skull unhappily, “But it was Andorel who freed me. I didn’t break my chains. She kidnapped me from the auction block and ripped the collar from my throat.” His voice was tight.
Senshia’s gaze did not soften. If anything, it burned brighter, as though she would not allow him to diminish himself. “She undid the shackles upon your body,” she said, each word deliberate, heavy. “But it was you who broke your chains. The chains that cut deeper than iron. The chains on your soul.”
She leaned closer, her presence pressing like a storm. “Do not insult your own survival, kitten. Countless thousands wear collars and never rise again. You were stolen, beaten by your guardians, brainwashed, enslaved, and sold, and yet still your spirit did not bow. That is why the System named you thus.”
“That is why they call you the Shackled God. Because you endured chains meant to erase you and you remained. Because you seek not retribution against those who had chained you but that you instead ministered to the souls of others who carried the same burden.”
“The shackles on your soul could have made you hard, calloused. One who abused others to inflict the same damage as was done to you.” She continued. “But you have chosen the kinder path, the gentler path. Few Luminari who found themselves in such a scenario would do the same. Especially after going through their crucible.”
“But-”
“No buts, little kitten.” Senshia’s voice softened, but her tone cracked like a whip, leaving no space for refusal. Her tail brushed once against his leg, fond and grounding. “Take what you have earned. The System does not give lightly.”
She drew back a fraction, gaze sharpening again “Now. Now that you have a Legend things will change a bit. Your devotion is going to explode exponentially with that 50% buff. You’ll also start collecting more Legends through your deeds, as every deed of weight will begin to crystallize into further Legends as your actions did last night.”
“This is important to a growing Luminari, and something that wouldn’t typically come until you were much older and more experienced.”
Torric frowned. “Why are Legends so important?”
“Because you are a god, kitten. Legends are how we grow and Evolve. You’ll never reach S grade without them, let alone obtain true Divinity.”
“Because you are a god, kitten,” Senshia said simply. “Legends are how we grow. How we Evolve. You will never reach S-grade without them. And without S-grade, true Divinity will always remain beyond your claws.”
Her eyes glimmered, nebulae swirling. “Do you understand? Legends are not mere stories. They are the bones of Divinity itself.”
Torric’s tail lashed, ears folding flat against his head once again. The words tore out of him before he could stop them. “But what if I don’t want Divinity?”
Senshia’s laugh was soft, sharp, almost pitying. “Don’t be stupid, kitten.” Her eyes caught starlight, fierce and merciless. “You are too young to understand. Everyone wants Divinity. That is the point of the System itself. It created and maintains the Ladder of Heavens. Every trial, every Record, every Evolution is a rung. Climb high enough, and you stand among the gods.”
Her gaze bored into him, pressing like weight on his chest. “Without the gods, the multiverse would collapse into chaos, into ruin. They are the anchors that hold the lattice together. And you-” her tail speared into his chest, slow and deliberate “-you were born already halfway up the Ladder. Luminari are nepotism incarnate, the children of Celestines. You have a leg up most would kill entire worlds for.”
“Liam, would you have become a god given the opportunity?” Torric asked the elf who had remained quietly at his side during the exchange.
“Yes.” He answered simply. “That is everyone’s goal. And her eminence is correct. People would kill for the chance to be where you stand. I would have killed for such a chance.”
His gaze met Torric’s, calm but unwavering. “And people will try to kill you. To rip out the divine core Bahumet forced into you. Do you understand what you carry? The life and souls of 46 worlds, compressed into power. Absorbing that would catapult someone like me higher up the Ladder of Heavens than I could ever hope to climb in a thousand lifetimes without help.”
For just a heartbeat, his eyes flickered, an echo of the longing he never voiced. Then it was gone, replaced by quiet certainty. “That is why they’ll hunt you, Torric. Not because you are weak. Because you are worth more than they can dream. Even if they can’t steal your core, if they can bear your children they’ll be able to get their divinity.”
Torric’s breath caught, ears pressing flat, claws curling against the bedding, tail lashing with agitation behind him.
Liam’s gaze softened, but only slightly. “Or they will seek to bind you, to coax you into giving what you gave us. To manipulate you into sharing your power until nothing remains yours. Few will come openly offering friendship as I did, or as loyally as Meidron. Most will come with honeyed words and hidden chains like the succubi who tried to take you.”
“Which is why I am your guardian until you have grown strong enough to defend yourself." Senshia added her voice cutting across the air like a drawn blade. The starlight in her eyes flared, fierce and unyielding. “Until you have grown strong enough to defend yourself.”
Her tail lashed once, deliberate, as though punctuating the decree. “You do not yet grasp how valuable you are, or how dangerous that value makes you. Every whisper of your name is a hook in the dark. Every collar you break, every slave you Bless has painted a target brighter on your back. You will not walk alone until you can shred those who would claim you.”
Torric’s claws flexed against the bedding, ears pressed tight to his skull. The weight of their words coiled around him like chains he had thought broken. His tail lashed again, restless. He did not argue, but his silence was sharp with unease.
“Hey it isn’t all bad.” Liam said with a gentle smile and a comforting squeeze of his hand. “Every devotion means there is someone out there who loves you. Who would die for you.”
Torric ripped his hand away from him. “I don’t want people to die for me!” He cried in anguish. “It's too much pressure.”
“Then kill yourself.” Senshia said flatly. “Because that is the only way that this ends. But know if you do, many of those who are devoted may follow you to the grave.”
Torric looked at her with equal parts betrayal and horror.
“She isn’t actually telling you to do that,” Liam said softly, his hand hovering near Torric’s but careful not to force the touch this time. His voice was calm, steady, carrying none of Senshia’s sharp edges. “She’s showing you how high the stakes are. None of us want you to die. Not her, not Meidron, not me.”
He leaned closer, lowering his voice as though speaking only for Torric. “We want you to live. To thrive. To grow into the strength that keeps you safe, and keeps those who believe in you safe too.”
Torric sighed, the fight draining from him. He leaned into Liam’s side, resting his head on the elf’s shoulder. His voice came out small, almost fragile. “I just want to live in peace… not be the focal point of an entire religion.”
“We can’t always get what we want, little kitten. The universe needs you.” Senshi told him kindly, her voice absent of its usual harshness. “The devotion you have generated is not meant to be chains to bind you with obligation. They are banners to uplift you, to show that you are worth following. That you are worthy of love. Of worship.”
She leaned back slightly, her tail curling around his arm in a rare gesture of affection. “Do not think of them as shackles, Torric. Think of them as wings. They will carry you farther than you can yet imagine.”
“The stronger you grow the more you can keep me and Meidron safe.” Liam murmured softly in his ear.
“That is the best incentive yet.” Torric replied, looking up at him through thick eyelashes.
More seriously, he looked at Senshia. “Before you said my power laid in chains and control, not annihilation like most tigers. But I am, apparently, a god of freedom. I even have a new Blessing involving free people from magically enforced bonds. Make it make sense.”
Senshia’s ears twitched, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then she inclined her head slowly, as though pleased he had finally asked the right question.
It does make sense, kitten. More than you realize. Power over chains does not mean you must bind others to you. It means you choose what chains endure. You can wield them as tyrants do or you can break them. That is the freedom you embody.”
Torric’s tail twitched, uncertainty flickering across his face.
“Chains don’t always mean slavery, either,” Liam said softly, reaching to brush Torric’s hand with his thumb. “Think of bonds of love, of family, of friendship. They tie you to someone, yes, but you wouldn’t call it evil. You wouldn’t call it slavery. Sometimes those chains are what keep us from drifting apart.”
“And control?” Torric pressed, ears pinned tight. “How is that meant to be anything other than slavery?”
Senshia’s gaze softened, though her words carried the same weight as ever. “Control over others, that is one path. But it is not yours. Not if I had to guess.” Her tail curled, deliberate. “Control can also mean mastery of the self. Your destiny. Your mind. Your body.”
She leaned forward, eyes shimmering with starlight. “Think, kitten. They stole that from you once. Your freedom. Your choice. Your very will. Yet you clawed it back. The people and the System named you the Shackled God not to chain you or rub your past in your face, but to remind you: you hold the reins now. No master, no chain, no collar can strip you again unless you allow it. You were shackled, but no longer.”
Her lips curved, faint and fierce. “Your power may not be about controlling the fates of others at all. It may be about the chains you throw off, and the control you reclaim, piece by piece, until no one can ever take it from you again.”
Torric blew out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. His shoulders loosened, ears easing forward, tail flicking in slower arcs. The way they had framed his power was still daunting, but less frightening now. More comforting. The knots he’d carried over the source of his magic began to loosen, though not all unraveled. Not yet.
The door swung open.
Meidron strode in with his usual brightness, carrying the scent of spice and sizzling meat. He halted a few steps inside, eyes sweeping the room. “Wuff.” He fanned a hand theatrically at the air. “The psychic tension in here is thicker than swamp mud. Have you been discussing the fate of the universe without me?”
“The universe as a whole?” Liam replied. “No. The fate of our universe, yes.” He hugged Torric against him, indicating exactly what and who he meant when he spoke of ‘our universe.’
Torric flushed under the weight of his arm, ears twitching and whiskers twitching.
Meidron’s grin sharpened. “Good answer.” With a wave of his hand carts laden with freshly made food and drink appeared from his storage, each one laden with steaming platters of food and chilled pitchers of fresh juice. The air filled at once with the scents of spiced meat, sweet bread, and rich hot chocolate, the faint hiss of still-sizzling pans rising like a promise.“Now let’s see if breakfast can’t make this particular universe a little less gloomy.”
Torric dove into his food with the ferocity of a starving man, all of it a feast for the senses, and not just his taste buds. The amazing aromas that tickled his sensitive nose. The texture of the perfectly fluffy eggs, the crisp bite of peppers mixed with them. The crunch of his butter and jam drenched toast.
And beneath it all, there was more. The devotion of his followers that lingered in every morsel, a hum of energy that settled warmly in his chest. But deeper still was something rarer, richer: the unmistakable thread of Meidron himself. The incubus’s love soaked into every bite, fierce and comforting all at once, until Torric felt it pooling in his veins like sunlight.
An inadvertent purr began rumbling deep within his chest as he ate, his tail curling around Meidron’s arm as they sat at the table side by side.
“Did you discuss the expenditure of your new devotion points?” Meidron asked as they ate. Well, while he, Liam, and Torric ate. Senshia stuck to drinking from her ever present ornate flask.
Torric shook his head. “We discussed my Legend and the source of my powers.”
“How many more points do you have?” Senshia asked.
“Um. Lemme check.” He opened his status window, not setting it to public viewing, just checking his stats. “A bit over 189 million. And now I have a Legend point?”
“Ignore the Legend point for now. As for your devotion points. All of your Skills have been reset to level 1 after we upgraded everything the other day. Spend them to upgrade some of their levels.”
Breakfast became a war council. Between bites of eggs and jam-soaked toast and sips of fresh pressed juice, Torric weighed his companions’ voices. Meidron argued for offense. “A tiger’s claws should always be sharpest, little star.” He teased.
Liam pressed for defense. “You won’t protect us if you fall.” Senshia cut through both with strategic coldness, urging him to invest in foresight and control.
With between the four of them they spent nearly everything. Point after point burned away by the million into rising panes of light until only a little over two hundred thousand remained in reserve, barely a drop in the ocean of his power. But when Torric leaned back at last, claws tapping against the table, he felt it: every Skill humming brighter, stronger, like a constellation reignited. He would absolutely demolish whatever he fought next.
They cleaned up after they finished eating, arming and armoring up. The dangers past level 50 in any dungeon were astronomically higher compared to the 1st 50 floors, for it was starting at level 50 that the floors would connect to the lattice between worlds. There would be no rushing madly through floor after floor with barely any breaks. They’d have to move with caution and deliberation.
The monsters waiting below were not just stronger, they were smarter, a lot smarter. Some would possess cunning that rivaled men, and others would have crossed into true sapience. These would not be mere beasts to slay, but enemies who could scheme, set traps, even parley or trade with.
The traps wouldn't be only from the monsters, either. Other divers prowled these depths, and not all sought glory honestly. Squabbles over kills could turn to bloodshed. Loot and gear proving too tempting to resist. Worse still were those who hunted their own kind deliberately, slavers and body-harvesters, predators who saw Skills and attributes as spoils of war.
Here, every shadow hid teeth. And the floors below them promised no mercy. Even with the S ranked Senshia to keep them safe, they were only 4 in number. Power and Skills didn’t mean much when overwhelmed by sheer numbers.
They left the safe zone, walking through the swirling purple portal and into the blackness of the abyss.
This floor held no driving snow, no frigid winds that stung the skin, no groud thick with sheets of ice.
Here the torches they brought with them sputtered briefly, then died, smothered by clinging strands that glimmered faintly in the gloom. The air was heavy with dust and something sweeter, sickly, cloying, like rotting honey and decaying meat. Torric’s whiskers twitched as his ears swiveled, picking up faint skittering above and all around him.
The floor stretched downward, not forward: a titanic chasm yawning beneath their boots, its depth impossible to gauge. Bridges of spider silk spanned the void, thick as ship’s rigging in places, thin as thread in others, swaying with each draft of stale air. More webs layered the ceiling like a second floor turned upside down, dotted with the husks of creatures long drained.
Torric's wings rustled as he began to spread them. He did not trust the webbing to walk across and three of the four of them now possessed wings.
But Senshia’s tail wrapped tight around his wrist, pulling sharply. “Don’t,” she said flatly. “The air belongs to the spiders.
“The floors have shifted,” she continued, eyes glowing faintly. “A webbed dungeon this high is bad. Very bad. The air itself is their hunting ground, and their threads will foul your wings. Here they are no gift, but a liability. Tuck them tight, kitten. Keep them hidden, or they’ll never let you back down.”
“Fire is supposed to be good on webbed floors,” Meidron remarked, a little too cheerfully. His golden eyes glowed faintly as he flexed his fingers, sparks dancing between his claws. “And as a demon, it happens to be my specialty.”
“Yes, but fire also burns bridges,” Liam countered, voice sharp as his blade. “And spiders mean poison. Not just venom in fangs. Paralysis, acid, silk that corrodes armor. Fire won’t save us from that.”
Torric’s ears flicked uneasily, but he lifted his chin. “I can layer two of my Blessings over us. Divine Lineage will bolster our healing and cleanse debuffs, which includes poison. And Eternal Aegis will shield us from anything that impairs movement or forces displacement. I’d rather not discover what happens if someone gets knocked into the abyss when wings are useless here.”
“The good thing is webbed floors tend to be relatively small,” Senshia said, her tone like drawn steel. “We are not stopping here for any reason short of someone needing intensive healing. Not for food, not for drink. Cleanse your bodies with mana if you must so we don’t have to stop for that. Do not pause. Every heartbeat we linger, we give them time to notice.”
The words settled over them, heavy as the silence of the abyss. To push so hard spoke volumes of how dangerous this floor was.
Torric drew a slow breath and shifted his aura, toggling from the social powers of Velvet Demiurge to the harsher, hungering pulse of the Blood Demiurge. The air around hom became more menacing, predatory instead of seductive. The air around him craving not seduction but bloodshed. Diplomacy to violence.
He reached for Meidron and Liam, and the Blessings answered, Divine Lineage, Eternal Aegis, and the two newborn gifts from his ever increasing followers. Golden-white sigils unfurled and sank into their cores, searing permanent brands upon their very souls. The weight of it thrummed in the air, binding them tighter to him, devotion woven into living flame.
Meidron shivered, eyes half-lidded in pleasure as the power locked into place. Liam’s hand tightened briefly on Torric’s wrist, a silent vow in the touch.
Senshia waved him off with a flick of her tail. “I have no need for the protections of a kitten.”
She did, however, layer her own buffs over the three of them, though she did not Bless any of them. While Torric could have gotten one or more such protections from her, Liam and Meidron could only carry one god’s Blessings at a time and it went without saying that they would never give up Torric’s Blessings. She didn’t even offer.
The moment they were ready, the party began their careful race across the webbed abyss.
The silk beneath their boots was a road only by function. It quivered with every step, alive and sensitive, its resonance carrying like the strings of a harp plucked in warning. Wards and enchantments wrapped their feet, dulling vibration and suppressing the betrayal of sound, but even so, the danger wasn’t gone. Threads as fine as mist drifted across the chasm, invisible until you were upon them. Breaking those strands was inevitable. Breaking them was the point. Each snapped filament carried a signal into the darkness, telling the waiting spiders exactly where their prey had passed.
The first attack was only a matter of time.
When it came, there was no sound, only the sudden presence of a body dropping from the endless dark above. Torric’s Skilled named it at once: Arachnephid Scout . Bulbous, long-legged, its mandibles clicked reflexively as it descended.
The trio struck without hesitation.
Meidron’s Flame-Tongue Bolt lanced through its carapace, a needle of fire that left blackened cracks in the glossy shell. Liam’s Radiant Bolt it at almost the exact same time, brilliant and blinding in the gloom, burning straight through its abdomen. Torric’s will impressed bent reality upon it.
Curse of Stillness.
The spider froze mid-motion, locked in place like a figure carved from stone.
Curse of Entropy.
The follow-up unravelled its insides in silence. No scream, no twitch, the creature simply stopped existing as alive . Its corpse remained locked in rigid stasis, suspended on the silken road, doomed to stay motionless until the curse’s hour-long grip ran its course. Torric could have stretched the spell longer, but there was no need to waste mana.
A perfect kill. A silent one. Their advantage held.
They pressed onward, repeating the pattern with the next two scouts. Clean, efficient executions, the kind that spoke of training and experience fighting as a trio, not luck. Fighting their way through the first 50 floors together, plus their innate bonds had made them an unstoppable force, able to know how each other part of their trio would move and act as if they were one hive mind piloting three different bodies.
They all knew it wouldn’t last. Patterns break. Silence doesn’t hold forever. It shattered with the arrival of three at once.
Two were scouts, bulbous and familiar. The third was different. Smaller in frame, but its body glowed with a virulent acid-green sheen, striped with black like warning sigils carved into flesh. Its twin fangs dripped venom so bright it gleamed in the dark, and when the drops hit the web beneath, the threads hissed and smoked.
+Take the Chasm Venomfang first,+ Torric’s command brushed across their minds, cold and certain.
All three struck with their practiced combo. Meidron’s fire and Liam’s radiance slammed into its hide, while Torric’s twin curses clamped down with greater weight this time, more mana poured into the spellwork. So they kept firing, bolts of flame and light hammering its carapace while Torric snared one of the scouts with his Curse of Stillness . The second he intentionally allowed to charge straight at them down the silken path.
It met Senshia.
She surged forward, claws flashing, faster than sight. Her strike carved the first scout’s head from its body in a single clean cut. The second never even slowed her. One step, one swipe and another corpse was made, held motionless in place by the curse invading its corpse. Her momentum never broke.
Beyond her, the Chasm Venomfang died under the combined fire of Meidron and Liam, entropy eating it from within until it too sagged lifelessly.
This time the corpses didn’t dangle above the chasm, feet away from the silk road and thus unreachable. Instead they lay across the silken path itself perfect for looting.
Meidron touched each one in turn.
The dead spiders dissolved. Carapaces cracked, legs folded inward, venomous sacs ruptured without a sound. Smoke bled from the bodies, curling upward before folding neatly into his chest. The loot followed: fangs, venom glands, silken sacs, everything of value whisked away into his soul storage. In seconds, the web was clean as if the trio of spiders had never existed.
If he hadn’t possessed the harvesting Skill, they would have been forced to leave everything behind. To linger meant death. But with Meidron, they didn’t even break stride. The treasure was theirs, and the silence held for one moment longer.
The one fight, however, had been enough for the other spiders to finally, truly take notice of them. The expected onslaught had arrived. They ran across web roads, stopping only when they had collected too many pursuers to be able to safely flee from. Then they stopped to fight.
The cycle repeated again and again, run, fight, loot, run. Their rhythm became survival itself, weaving like the threads beneath their boots.
Liam stood firm in the front, shield gleaming with eclipse light as wave after wave of spiders crashed against him. Meidron’s fire carved burning holes in the darkness, every spell another corpse that dissolved into smoke. Senshia blurred through the chaos, claws slicing, carapaces splitting in showers of ichor. Torric stalked behind them, untouched more often than not, his very presence bending the battlefield. Demiurge’s Dominion made the spiders falter, the monsters too terrified to even attempt to fight him, unable to beat the save.
His claws tore through nearly as many spiders as Senshia’s as he danced between his two lovers, moving between them to keep either from getting overwhelmed by the tide of bodies, slicing through spiders, and the webbing they tried to coat his lumin in without hesitation or slowing.
Between their combined auras and buffs their stamina and mana were constantly refreshing, never going below half, and recovering completely before they stopped for another killing field of fighting.
They pressed on until the threads beneath them widened, stretching into an open expanse.
The webbed abyss yawned before them, no longer narrow roads but a vast woven plain. The sheer size of it made the air feel thin, the silk trembling beneath their feet with each faint breeze.
And in the center of it waited their death.
It was a spider in the way a mountain is a hill. A thing too large for the word to hold. Its legs were pillars sunk deep into the abyss, its abdomen the size of a keep, its fangs as long as spears and dripping with venom that smoked as it struck the threads below. Every breath it exhaled was a chorus of creaking silk.
[Boss Identified: Arachnephid Broodmother, Matriarch of the Abyssal Webs]
Torric stared up at the giant spider, throat dry. Bigger than the orphanage, his mind whispered inanely. Gargantuan didn’t seem enough. Titan, maybe. Godspawn, perhaps.
He shook the thought away. Now wasn’t the time for labels.
Now was the time to kill.
The webbed abyss thrummed like a drum beneath their feet. Each strand was a taut line of silk stretched into infinity, quivering with menace. Torric, Meidron, Liam, and somewhere already beyond sight, Senshia, advanced toward the heart of the floor.
The Arachnephid Broodmother waited.
Her legs sank like black spires into the woven expanse of silken webbing, anchoring her fortress-body above the chasm. Hundreds of eyes gleamed like onyx lanterns, mandibles as big as Torric’s bodies clicking as venom fell in drops the size of one of Liam’s shields.
Then she screamed.
Webs all across the chasm split, birthing swarms of spiders that spilled out like floodwater.
Senshia moved as if she were death incarnate. In a way she was, just as Torric had his three domains, she had hers. One was Death, another was the way of the Predator. Both served her well as the Lumanari vanished into the tide, claws whispering, a shadow of inevitability.
Each sweep harvested dozens, each breath carried her Domain of Death, each heartbeat painted the silk in husks. The adds were hers. The Broodmother was theirs.
+Take the legs!+ Torric’s voice rang through their mental bond. His Leadership made it an edict, and as such boosted their attack abilities when his two lumin moved to obey him.
Liam surged forward, his shield glowing with Moonveil Ward . A volley of acid globules shattered harmlessly on silver light. His sword swung in a blazing arc, Solar Sunder , and a foreleg split open, golden fire searing through chitin.
Meidron slid along another leg, elegant as a dancer, cloak flaring with fire. His rapier flicked in crimson ribbons, Cinder Waltz, Burning Riposte , each strike carving neat seams into spider-flesh. With a flick of his hand, a glowing sigil seared onto the Broodmother’s abdomen: Incubus Brand. Her entire body became more vulnerable to his flames.
Torric lifted a clawed hand. Curse of the Dimming Sparks sank into her, mana leaking away as starlight threads. Demiurge’s Dominion thickened the air every spider that skittered too close faltered, their instincts rebelling at the idea of touching him. The Broodmother had no such aversions. No, she seemed to have decided to focus all her intent upon him.
The Broodmother responded to their assault with a Webquake , the silk plain shuddering like a plucked harp. Threads snapped, alarms sang into the abyss.
“Not today,” Torric whispered. He unleashed his Demiurgic Roar. The quake stuttered, silk falling silent. The alarm-veils tore apart in unreal stillness, and Senshia used that breath to reap another swath of the tide.
Two legs crumbled, each one taken by Meidron or Liam while the broodmother focused her attention on him. The abyssal queen shrieked, and her abdomen swelled with a blight cocoon.
The Broodmother wrapped herself in layer upon layer of toxic green thread. They all knew that to touch the webbing on her body would inflict them with a virulently deadly poison. They tried throwing magic spells at the enwebbed spider queen but the energy immediately rebounded. Their spells struck back like mirrors.
Liam’s Silverlight Reflection caught the first rebound, turning the rebounded and converted venom beam back at the matriarch’s face. Meidron’s Obsidian Mirror stole the second, catching a lance of toxin midair and snapping it back into her abdomen. Torric didn’t even bother, Absolute Mana Sovereignty folded the reflected currents into nothing, as if the laws of magic had remembered who wrote them.
“Break it,” Liam growled. He swapped into Solar stance, radiance blazing, and carved with Eclipse Cleave into a powerful Judgment Slash. Moon and sun fused into his edge, biting into the cocoon.
Meidron danced forward, blade wrapped in Enthralling Flame Blade , cuts placed precisely along stress points. A final Crimson Curtain Blast ignited the seams, silk burned, and the cocoon split.
Torric pressed his palm to the queen’s newly exposed body, whispering the words of Curse of Eternal Eclipse. . The Broodmother’s regeneration had been halted prematurely when Meidron and Liam tore through her protections and his Curse would keep such a trick from working a second time.
The brood mother’s abdomen exploded outward, releasing a tide of elite arachnids from within. They screamed across the web toward the trio.
Senshia was too busy to assist them in their deluge, but that did not mean they were defenseless. He activated one of his Ultimate abilities, Fang of the Celestine. A massive semi-opaque tiger roared into existence and began laying waste to the elite arachnoids as they surged towards them.
The Broodmother shrieked again, gravity dragging the whole plain downward. The silk pitched, anchors snapping.
Liam leapt high, crashing down on her broken and bleeding abdomen with Duskbreaker’s Leap .
The shockwave broke her concentration, ending the spell and stabilizing the webbed platform
Torric expanded his Eclipse Mantle of Ruin. Every buff, to herself or her minions, every attempt at coordination the Broodmother tried to muster bled away, leaving only despair.
Her shriek became a howl of desperation when her health hit 50%, but still they did not let up on the attack. Torric targeted her legs, using his claws to disjoint them to throw the queen off balance while Meidron worked alongside his Avatar to demolish her elite spiders and Liam targeted one of her two fangs, eventually ripping it free and throwing it aside in a spray of blood and venom.
At 25%, she ascended. Webs reknit into towers, and the entire plain became a storm of razor-thread. Every gust cut like blades.
Liam answered with his oath. Eternal Eclipse Form ignited, his body cloaked in fire and shadow. He became balance incarnate, and with him came Beacon of Equinox , their damage, their healing, their very will sharpened by his vow.
Meidron let go of the Skill he had been holding onto as well. His incubus aura burst outward in full, Steward of Desire’s Embrace. Fire and charm rolled across the arena. Enemies within twenty meters knelt or burned; his allies surged with Charisma and Fire Affinity, passion and flame braided into their veins.
Torric activated his own Ultimate form, Celestial Ascension, and directed his Avatar to ignore the remaining elites, focusing its attacks on the spider queen. The fortress-sized astral tiger roared across the web, slamming titanic paws into the Broodmother’s legs. Chitin cracked, silk trembled and split.
The queen reeled, half-shredded, thrashing in venom and silk.
Liam locked her gaze with Judgment of the Eclipse. Radiant and Shadow fire flared in her eyes as the verdict was read: guilty. She staggered, falling from the ceiling she’d been trying to run to..
Meidron was there, ready and waiting, rapier flashing, while his Searing Gaze scorching another eye cluster, Phoenix Flare bursting to sear and heal his allies in one motion. His final thrust, Discreet Elimination , sank beneath her chin-plate, silent as smoke.
Then Torric stepped into the breach, Presence crowned in darkness and fire. His claws drew a sigil in the air.
“Fall.”
Eclipse Rend of Oblivion.
The first strike stripped defenses.
The second strike unmade her strength.
And with the third,
Godrend Absolute
, her existence unraveled.
The Arachnephid Broodmother ceased to be. Not slain. Not destroyed. Forgotten by reality, her threads erased from the tapestry, half of her power bled into the void, half flowed into Torric, infusing him with her strength.
Silence.
Velvet Harvest bloomed in Meidron’s hand. The remains dissolved to smoke, valuables whisked into his soul storage: venom heart, spool-glands, amber eggs, and crown-plates. The web lay clean, as though she had never existed.
At the edge of the abyss, Senshia returned. Her claws dripped with starlight ichor, her eyes calm as the grave. Behind her lay a mountain of husks.
“Done?” she asked, voice light as dust.
Liam’s Halo dimmed, steady. “Done.”
“Not quite done.” Torric said as his body resumed its normal form. “We have a Champion’s Chest to loot.”
A chest had appeared in the center of the web-plain, enormous, gilded with black chitin and burning starlight veins. Its edges shimmered as though woven from both nightmare and dream.
Champion’s Chest
Rank: Epic
Venomfang’s Crowned Mandibles
– Epic – Twin daggers carved from the Broodmother’s fangs. Deal +25% bonus damage to Poisoned enemies and apply stacking toxin that ignores resistance caps.
Silken Veil of the Abyss
– Epic – Cloak woven from Broodmother web. Grants +20% Dodge and renders the wearer invisible for 3s after taking a critical hit.
Broodheart Core
– Epic crafting material – Pulsating with venom and shadow this core can be used to forge gear granting +35% Poison Resistance or a weapon with a poison affliction that applies lifesteal against afflicted enemies.
Chasmthread Greaves
– Epic – Boots lined with abyss-silk. +30% Agility and Reflexes; wearer can sprint across vertical or inverted surfaces spun of magic or silk.
Venom Sac of Eternity
– Epic alchemical reagent – Used to brew poisons that scale with the brewer’s Charisma or Willpower, bypassing 50% of enemy resistances.
Silkspinner’s Gauntlets
– Epic – Gloves that allow the creation of temporary silk-threads. Functions as grappling lines or restraints. Threads count as Epic-tier material and are nearly unbreakable.
Eyes of the Broodmother
– Epic crafting material – Crystalized cluster of abyssal eyes. Consumable crafting reagent or implant; grants +25% Perception and immunity to Blindness for 1 hour when activated.
Threadspinner’s Quiver
– Epic – Generates spectral silk arrows that never run out. Each arrow inflicts +10% True Damage that ignores armor.
Carapace Plating of the Abyss
– Epic – Chest armor plate. Grants +35% Physical Defense and +20% resistance to Acid/Poison. The first critical hit each battle is negated entirely.
Web-Touched Reliquary Stone – Epic – Trinket. Activatable ability: summon a 10m radius dome of spectral silk that blocks all projectiles for 15s. Cooldown: 1 hour.
Crown of the Abyssal Matriarch – Legendary – A circlet woven from eternal silk and crystallized venom, shimmering between shadow and starlight.
- Passive: +50% Resistance to Poison, Charm, and Fear.
- Aura: Allies within 20m gain +15% Reflexes and +15% Willpower, enemies suffer -15% Composure.
- Active: Broodmother’s Edict – Once per day, summon spectral webbing across the battlefield, halving enemy Speed and Dodge for 30s while allies gain +20% Attack Speed and +20% Accuracy.
- Flavor: A crown fit for one who commands desire, death, or dominion. Its threads hum with whispers of all prey ever caught in the Broodmother’s web.
“Now that is some good loot.” Liam said approvingly.
“Mei-mei will you go loot all the other spiders then we can get the fuck out of here? Hopefully the next floor won’t be another fucking spider floor.”
"As my lord commands." The incubus replied with a grin and a mocking bow.
Chapter 17
Notes:
MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH WARNING. Also more spiders and chasms. I cried writing this NGL.
Chapter Text
The next floor was, in fact, more spiders.
The floor after that? Still spiders, only this time they had wings, claws, and scorpion tails.
By the time they dragged themselves onto the 54th floor and stared into yet another abyss strung with webs, even Senshia’s iron composure had begun to crack.
The next safe zone wasn’t until the 55th floor, and each descent brought them face to face with more. More monsters. Stronger monsters. Smarter monsters. Entire swarms pressing at them in numbers that should never have existed this high in the dungeon to begin with, and never in so many successive floors.
The only mercies, small, bitter ones, were that the floors were small. Five, maybe six hours of grinding through terror and they could force a boss confrontation then stagger onward. Each new level opened into a narrow antechamber, a pocket of enforced reprieve where no spiders dared follow. A quick meal. A few stolen hours of restless sleep. Then back into the nightmare.
Senshia spent every rest period planted at the mouth of the chamber, her body a barricade between her wards and the skittering dark. She never sat, never let her sword drop, while the others collapsed behind her in heaps of armor and sweat, absolutely exhausted.
For Torric, Meidron, and Liam, the pace was hell. Buffs stacked high. Bellies stuffed with enchanted food whenever they had the chance. It wasn’t enough. Even magic could only drag a body so far before exhaustion won. And if collapse came in the middle of a spider floor, one filled with monsters far beyond their proper tier, it wouldn’t just mean failure. It would mean death. For one of them. Maybe all three.
“What is going on?” Torric asked as they stared out at the webbed abyss beyond.
“I'm not sure, kitten," Senshia replied. “Five levels of webbed floors straight, each harder than the last is strange. This can happen after the 70th floor, but from 50 to 54? One webbed floor. Maybe two could happen. But five? It is as if someone pulled these floors up from the depths just to make us struggle.”
Torric looked sharply at her. “Is that possible?” He asked flatly. His experiences after leaving Praetoria had proven that he knew nothing when it came to the greater multiverse and that more was possible than he had ever imagined.
“Yes.” She replied with false neutrality. “But it would take an A rank or greater, probably several, working in concert to do it…. Or the help of a god.”
“Like Lumari style of god or like celestine type of god?”
“One of the Luminari would never. Not because they are incapable, but the beast mother’s attention is focused squarely upon you for the time being. Anyone attuned to the celestines will know that she watches, even now.”
“Wait, she is?” Torric asked, startled. “But I can’t tell.”
“Kitten you are barely out of infancy when it comes to your magic and have had a few days of indifferent combat training at most. If you could sense her I would be shocked. Trust me, She is watching right now, like a hawk. An angry broody hawk ready to peck the shit out of anyone who would come near her hatchling.
She barely tolerated Renetheria acting as your guardian before I arrived, and only because your mother has a longstanding alliance with the dragon celestine. The demon that was on Solstheen couldn't come within a mile of you without setting her off.”
“So if not a Luminari then one of the other celestines?”
“No, they would not come for you either. Our void mother has the reputation for responding explosively to perceived threats regardless of their rung on the Ladder of Heavens. She’s also been described as a cosmic flurry blender of death. As a bestial type she reacts more on animalistic instinct than logix and reasoning. And she is very, very quick to unsheathe her claws.”
“What’s a blender?” Torric asked.
“Its a magical device that turns solid food into liquid by chopping it up very swiftly with extremely sharp blades rotating extremely fast.” Meidron explained.
Torric looked at him in surprise.
“What? I know things. I'm a demon, and thus not native to Solstheen. Just because they don’t have blenders doesn't mean the demon empire doesn’t.”
“So if it isn’t a Luminari and it isn't another celestine, then if someone is targeting us, then who?” Torric asked.
“Probably one or more of the lesser gods from one of the planets that was destroyed. Actions have consequences, even actions taken by something as powerful as a celestine. She just crippled dozens of lesser gods by taking away potentially their only lower sources outside their Legends. They I could easily see trying to take vengeance upon you.”
“Wouldn’t that piss off our mother?”
“If they are behind this, they walk a very fine line between utter oblivion and survival. One toe set wrong on the line and they’re gone for good. Shuffling the floors to make it more difficult for you to cross through is cutting it perilously close to pissing her off enough to act.
If whoever did this, assuming it isn't random fluke, was smart they would leave it here and not push any farther. Typically themed levels like this only last a maximum of 5 levels, like ice floors between 45 and 50.”
“How likely is this to be a fluke?” Liam asked, looking out at the expanse beyond.
“50/50. But that isn’t the right question.” Senshia answered.
“What is the right question?” Torric responded.
“The right question is, if this is an organized attempt on you, to what purpose and how far are they willing to go?”
“You think this floor is a trap.” Meidron said flatly.
“You are all mentally exhausted after four floors of near nonstop fighting. At your levels and rank, fighting monsters easily 20 floors lower than anything you should be fighting, even though your recovery powers have kept you afloat so far, you’re in an inordinate amount of danger. You’re tired, your nerves are shot, and your reaction times right now are absolute dog shit.
If someone wanted to set up an ambush, this floor would be the one to do it.”
“So we might have worse than spiders waiting in here?” Torric asked apprehensively.
“Yes. I know we haven't wanted to stop for more than an hour or two between floors, but a longer rest now means we are less likely to die from a mistake made in exhaustion than if we pressed on as we are. And the break in pattern could confuse our enemies.
Regardless we must press forward eventually or it means a forced retreat up the four floors we just crossed to the 50th floor safe zone and teleport lower down. Staying here overly long spells our doom just as much as rushing forward incautiously.”
“How long do we stop for?” Liam asked, steel in his eyes and iron in his voice.
“Five hours, seven at most. Then we press on regardless. Get some rest, children. Time waits for no one and the clock is swiftly running down.”
They set up a makeshift camp immediately on the antechamber, delaying their rest only long enough for Meidron to use his Skills to make them a sketchy meal of magical broth and the Tea of Tranquility. Then they immediately curled up on the enchanted mattress they'd brought that would boost their natural recovery when slept on.
They were out almost immediately, testament to how exhausted they were. Senshia took up her place standing sentinel at the entrance to the chamber. It would be several long hours waiting in the magically enhanced darkness to see if an ambush of unknown size, skill, and intention was about to materialize on their heads.
If their goal was kidnapping Torric they may have a chance. Assassination however… that would be much tricker to stop. In one scenario they had to be kept alive which would work against their attackers. In the other… trying not to die in an ambush was tricky as fuck.
Senshia woke them 6 hours later, and the 3 were considerably more refreshed after their rest break, not just physically but mentally. His devotion points had also taken a huge jump. All three of their levels had progressed by a massive amount in their 4 floor mad dash through the dungeon.
Under Senshia’s guidance all three of them leveled up their stats by spending all their free points, or in Torric’s case, his devotion points as well. Mostly they all focused on purely raising Attribute points, though Torric bought one new Skill, one that would hopefully keep them all intact if the worst case scenario came.
The floor opened before them like the throat of some unfathomable beast, a chasm stretched wider than any fortress wall, its depths veined with webbing that shimmered like rivers of pale fire. The bridge across it was not stone but strands of silk as thick as ship’s masts, stretching in trembling suspension. Every step they took set the webs humming, and from that hum came the answering chorus: thousands of skittering legs.
The first spiders crested the strands around them, titanic things the size of war-beasts. Their carapaces glimmered with obsidian sheen, runes of hunger etched across their swollen abdomens. Each was a C-grade spider monster of varying types between levels 1900-2000, each one strong enough to crack mountains with their claws, and dozens more lurked in the shadows beyond.
“Run,” Torric ordered, his voice cutting through the abyss like scripture. His Presence pressed outward, set to scare rather than attract and for a heartbeat the swarm faltered, caught in his narrative gravity. Then the spell snapped and the tide descended.
They ran.
The web-bridge shuddered as Liam surged ahead, shield raised, his armor haloed by twin coronas of sunfire and moonlight. Each step struck sparks across the silk, and when the first spider lunged, Liam met it head-on. His Solar Smite split its skull in half, searing holy fire boiling brain and ichor alike. But not before its claws raked across his side. The impact dented plate, blood running hot under his armor. He staggered, snarled, and shoved forward. “Stay on me!”
Meidron blurred at Torric’s side, cloak snapping like smoke. Velvet Step carried him through lunging legs, his blades flashing in quicksilver arcs. He cut into a joint, twisted, and unleashed Velvet Harvest , the spider collapsing into ash before it hit the abyss. But another slammed him from the side, its fangs sinking deep into his shoulder before he ripped free. Blood ran down his arm, fire blooming across his skin as he hissed through clenched teeth.
“Hey Torric, try not to look delicious hurts like a bitch,” he quipped, but his grin was a little too red.
“Stay on task!” Senshia growled as they fought on.
Torric did not slow. Demiurge’s Dominion warped the world around his stride, skewing fangs just wide enough to miss, but one still grazed him, a hooked leg tearing a gouge down his back. He roared, pain flaring into fury. Starlight Reaving Claw answered in kind, carving glowing scars across a carapace and splitting the beast’s magic open like rotten wood.
The web quaked. From below, a leviathan spider surged upward, fangs dripping venom that hissed holes through the silk. Its aura pressed like a stormfront, and the swarm shrieked in frenzy.
“Liam!” Torric’s voice cut sharp through the dark, calling his name in warning.
The Paladin pivoted, blood already slick under his armor, and slammed his shield down. Celestial Eclipse Nova burst outward, fire and silver light searing into the swarm. A dozen spiders screeched and tumbled into the abyss, their burning husks leaving trails of ash. But the effort tore him open. His knees buckled, coughing blood as the aura scorched through his own veins. He forced himself upright. “Go!”
They surged forward, firelight and silk shaking under their steps, the abyss alive with claws.
The bridge narrowed. Web-strands twisted into a bottleneck where eight spiders barred the way.
“Mei get them,” Torric growled.
The incubus grinned, bloodied fangs flashing. Flame-Bound Grasp lashed out, chains of fire searing into the front spider. It screamed as he whispered, “Kneel.” Ensnared, it froze just long enough for Torric to vault over.
Torric’s Heavenbreaker Uppercut shattered its jaw, launching it screaming into the abyss. But not before another spider caught him mid-leap, claws raking across his thigh, hot blood spilling into the web. He landed limping, aura thrumming violently to keep him moving.
They broke through. Behind them, Sensshia carved the tide apart, Clawmother’s Bulwark flaring in waves of steel and will. She stood untouchable. They did not.
The platform pulsed before them. The Abyssal Broodmother descended, her obsidian body studded with crystal, each leg crashing like siege towers.
“Level 995,” Liam rasped, shield arm trembling not with fear but with blood loss.
The Broodmother shrieked. Burning silk spewed from her maw, barricades slamming into place. The swarm closed behind them.
Torric’s aura ignited. Demiurgic Roar rolled out, staggering the Broodmother and silencing the swarm. “This floor belongs to us.”
She lunged. The platform buckled.
Liam met her with Solar-Lunar Bastion , light detonating against venom rivers. The blast shield held, but her leg slammed into him, hurling him back, ribs cracking like dry twigs. He hit the silk hard enough to bounce, blood spraying from his mouth.
Meidron vaulted up a leg, driving his blades into a joint with Burning Riposte . Chitin cracked, fire erupted, but the Broodmother twisted violently. A leg smashed into his chest, ribs splintering as he was hurled across the platform, landing in a heap. He coughed fire and blood, forcing himself back to his knees.
Torric leapt, his Eclipse Mantle of Ruin unraveling the silk barricades, his claws tearing runes out of her abdomen. Acidic venom spewed back at him, sizzling against his skin, burning deep gouges that smoked as they healed too slow. He roared through the pain, reality itself bending under his will.
The Broodmother screamed, abdomen splitting. Broodlings poured out, a tide of legs and fangs.
“Hold!” Sensshia’s voice thundered. She met them head-on, sword spinning in a storm that devoured dozens in every stroke.
Liam dragged himself upright, blood dripping from his lips. His sword blazed with Celestial Cataclysm , a miniature star. He swung, cleaving a leg clean off, the shockwave ripping the broodlings into ash.
Meidron staggered forward, Flame-Bound Grasp snapping around the Broodmother’s body. Chains seared into her carapace as he pulled, muscles trembling with blood loss. “Down, bitch,” he hissed, coughing red.
Torric rose above them all, voidlight screaming from his skin. His Demiurgic Roar’s cooldown reset and he detonated again, the swarm freezing, the world bending to his voice. His claws burned like newborn stars.
He activated Eclipse Rend of Oblivion, driving i nto her exposed crystal heart.
The Broodmother shrieked, body splitting into burning shards before collapsing into ash.
Silence fell.
The three stood bloodied, broken, half-held together by sheer will. Liam’s shield hung cracked, his arm shaking. Meidron’s cloak was torn and soaked in red, every breath a rattle. Torric’s skin smoked from venom-acid burns, claws dripping with a mix of his own blood and the broodmother’s ichor.
Then steel glinted from the shadows. The ambush they had expected but forgotten in their headlong rush had finally come. Just as Torric drew a ragged breath of triumph, figures emerged from the shadows at the edge of the web, steel gleaming, spells already lit. The ambush had come.
Humans, all of them, 20 in number, wearing tabards of Praetoria’s military over their armor. Their eyes were hard, full of hatred.
The four stood on the trembling platform, battered, bleeding, but unbroken. Sensshia took a deep breath, the faintest quirk of a smile tugging at her mouth. “Children,” she said, voice soft but edged with pride. “You have not disgraced yourselves yet today. We will not fall now.”
“You killed our planet.” One hissed at him, voice full of rage.
“I did nothing. Take it up with the Beast Mother.” He answered, unwilling to be cowed or blamed for actions he hadn’t even been aware of happening when they occurred.
“We are.” Another sneered. “Our children died at the hands of your mother. Now she will watch her own child die. Fair is only fair.”
“You are too weak to have arranged this yourself.” Senshia hissed at them.
“Praetoria’s gods helped. They help even now, attacking your mother, tying her up so that she cannot help you.”
“You think a pantheon of lesser gods can stop her?” She sneered back.
“No. They will die, but they will slow her. That is the sacrifice they make to avenge their planet.
“Do you think that the 20 of you will be able to stop us? You will.”
“Maybe,” the first man responded. “But we’re sure as fuck taking that bastard with us.”
They were exhausted, most of their biggest spells on cooldown, but the four were not going to go down without a fight,. The first spell flew towards them, a lance of lightning that tore free from the staff-bearer’s hands. It blazed toward them, the opening salvo of the ambush.
Torric’s claws rose, too slow to fully deflect. The lightning ripped across his chest, lifting him off his feet. His scream of pain split the air, silver voidlight sparking where the bolt chewed through flesh.
The fight with the Broodmother was finished.
The fight to survive had only begun.
The lightning bolt hurled Torric to the ground, his chest smoking where the crackling brand had carved through skin and bone. He forced himself upright with a ragged roar, silver light dripping from the wound like molten starlight.
The twenty surged forward.
Liam planted himself in front of Torric, shield barely hanging together, his body no better. Moonveil Ward flared across its battered surface just as a volley of conjured spears slammed into it. The veil cracked. Blood sprayed from his lips as the backlash shattered across his arm, but he held. “Over me!” he shouted, voice raw with pain.
Meidron darted left, faster than his injuries should have allowed. A soldier met him blade to blade, only for the incubus to twist into smoke and reappear behind him. Velvet Step left a trail of crimson fire as both short swords sank between the man’s ribs. He whispered venom into his ear as he fell, stealing the last of his life with Velvet Harvest . But even as the soldier died, another’s warhammer smashed into Meidron’s back. Bone cracked audibly. The incubus staggered, coughing up a spray of red, his cloak in tatters.
Sensshia moved. Her blade sang arcs of silver and fire, each swing severing limbs, sundering shields, splitting men into ruin. Clawmother’s Bulwark wrapped the trio in her shadow, her aura alone holding half the ambushers at bay. She cut down six in as many breaths, her voice rising like steel dragged over stone. “You dare touch my wards?!”
Torric staggered upright, chest blazing with agony. His claws curled, voidlight searing his veins raw. He unleashed Starlight Reaving Claw in a desperate swipe, carving through two charging men at once, but a vial of high grade acide splattered hot across his burns, and the stink of charred flesh nearly broke him.
A chant rose. Five casters in the back unleashed a combined spell, a hammer of flame and stone that detonated across the platform. The web-plateau shook. Liam raised his shield, roaring as Solar-Lunar Bastion flared once more. The explosion slammed into him like the wrath of gods. His shield cracked. His knees broke through silk. His body bent under the weight, driving him to his knees, but he did not fall. “Not… today,” he growled, pain and defiance weaving through his voice, hauling himself back up, blood soaking his body.
Meidron lunged again, his grin feral through the blood streaming down his face. Burning Riposte exploded through another soldier’s gut, but the counterstroke from their ally carved deep across his thigh, spilling crimson onto the enchanted silk. He swayed, fire still licking his blades, but his steps faltered.
Torric’s aura writhed, tearing at the edges of reality. Eclipse Mantle of Ruin snapped into being around him, staggering the soldiers as their coordination unraveled. Blades faltered, spells misfired, for one heartbeat, the world bent to his will. He roared and charged, claws tearing a man’s chest wide open, but a spear rammed through his side in return. The silver glow of his blood sprayed across the silk as he ripped the weapon free and kept moving.
Still, they came. Eleven remained, and the four stayed on their feet.
Sensshia’s claws blurred, each stroke reaping another life, but she alone could not cover them all. One soldier broke past her line and lunged for Torric, dagger raised for his throat.
Meidron intercepted, body slamming the man off balance. The dagger buried itself instead in the incubus’s side. He gasped, swords falling as he clutched the wound. “Don’t… touch him,” he snarled, blood running freely down his body. Acrid black smoke poured from his wound.
Torric turned, eyes blazing in a silver void. His Demiurgic Roar ripped from his throat, a sound of raw defiance that froze even human hearts. The dagger-wielder faltered. Torric’s claws found him a heartbeat later, rending him into bloody ruin.
But the cost was rising. Liam bled freely from a dozen or more wounds, his shield now little more than a slab of broken steel. Meidron was staggering, his blood soaking the platform. Black veins ran up his body, something corrupting him from the inside out. Torric’s body smoked from venom, acid, and fire, barely upright at all.
Only Sensshia remained untouched, her blade still carving arcs of death. She turned, eyes blazing, and shouted above the din:
“Children! Stand! Until the last breath, we stand!”
The soldiers roared back, surging as one, determined to drag Torric down no matter the price.
Steel clashed, spells screamed, the silk platform trembled under the weight of blood and hate. The humans pressed harder, their fury bottomless, their spells flaring brighter as they smelled weakness.
Torric staggered under another blow, a sword slamming across his ribs. His Eclipse Mantle of Ruin flickered, breaking for a heartbeat, and the swarm of soldiers surged in. His claws tore a throat open, silver celestial blood mixing with human red, but the effort left him swaying, smoke curling off his acid-burnt skin.
“Kitten!” Sensshia’s voice thundered. Her claws speared a man into ruin, blood spraying across her armor. “Stay behind me!”
But Torric didn’t, couldn’t. The gravity of his presence pulled at the battlefield, every eye fixed on him. They came for him, not her.
Liam met them, battered shield raised. Moonveil Ward sputtered back to life as he threw himself between Torric and a volley of spears. The veil cracked instantly, shards of silver light stabbing into his flesh. He bellowed in agony but stood anyway, body breaking one wound at a time. “You’ll not… touch him!”
Meidron appeared at Torric’s side in a burst of smoke, blades flashing. Velvet Step carried him through two men in a heartbeat, both collapsing with their throats spilling fire. He grinned through blood-slick teeth. “You really should stop looking so damn pretty, kitten. Makes men stupid.”
The grin faltered.
The dagger wound in his side releasing a fresh explosion of acrid black smoke suddenly, more black veins crawling up his body with oily shadows. He choked, fire guttering out on his blades. His eyes widened.
“Mei-” Torric’s voice cracked, silver light flaring around him.
“The blade…” Meidron gasped, clutching at the wound. The soldier he’d intercepted earlier was dead, but his dagger had not been ordinary steel. Divine runes shimmered faintly across the broken hilt still clutched in the corpse’s hand. A curse. A damnation laid by Praetoria’s gods themselves.
The magic surged through Meidron’s veins, burning his lifeforce to cinders. He collapsed to his knees, blood streaming freely, smoke rising from his flesh.
“No!” Torric screamed, claws slashing down in a savage frenzy that tore three men apart where they stood. His aura howled, Demiurgic Roar detonating across the platform, shaking even the humans’ hearts. For a heartbeat the ambush faltered.
Liam limped to Meidron’s side, shield arm dangling uselessly, blood dripping from his chin. He pressed a gauntleted hand to the incubus’s chest, trying to will life back into him. “Stay with us, damn you. Stay!”
Meidron’s hand lifted weakly, brushing Torric’s cheek, smearing blood across silver light. His smile was faint, sharp as ever, but dimming.
“Guess I… finally did something selfless.” His voice was a rasp, but his eyes burned with fierce satisfaction. “Don’t waste it.”
The curse flared. His body convulsed, blood boiling out of his mouth in a black spray. His back arched once, then the fire guttered out of his eyes. His body slumped, smoke rising from the ruin the curse had made of him.
Torric’s scream tore the abyss open. Voidlight burst outward, claws dripping radiance. He waded into the humans like an angel of slaughter, every stroke tearing bodies apart.
Liam followed, broken shield discarded, sword burning with Celestial Cataclysm as he carved through the line. Each swing left his own body breaking further, blood pouring, but he did not stop. Not while Torric still breathed.
Senshia was death incarnate. Her blade moved faster than thought, her aura a hurricane that shredded men where they stood. She roared fury at the heavens themselves. “You dare curse what is mine?!”
The last of the humans fell screaming into the abyss, their blood staining the silk beneath. Silence followed, broken only by the ragged breaths of those who yet stood.
Only 3 of 4 stood amid the slain bodies.
Torric fell to his knees beside Meidron’s body, claws shaking as he tried -and failed- to pour healing silver light into the corpse. His voice was hoarse, broken, but still commanding. “Don’t you dare leave me, Mei. Don’t you dare.”
Nothing answered.
Sensshia knelt, laying a hand on his shoulder. Her voice was softer now, though iron still underpinned it. “He was damned the moment he took that blade for you. The curse was meant to end you. He gave his life in your place.”
Liam stood over them, his sword dripping blood, his body trembling, tears cutting paths through the filth on his face. “Then his death won us this floor.”
Torric’s claws clenched until blood ran down his wrists. His eyes burned silver void. “No!” He screamed, gathering his fallen lover’s body in his arms. “His death will damn them. Every god that touched that blade. Every soldier that thought this fair. Any Praetorian who survived their slaughter. Every world that thinks it can steal from me. I will murder them all.”
He bent his head over Meidron’s body, voice breaking at last. “I’ll make them choke on your name, Mei. I swear it.”
The platform shuddered beneath them, silk webs drawing tighter, the dungeon groaning as though it felt the weight of his vow.
He buried his head against his lover’s chest, then lifted his face to the heavens. “MOTHER!” he screamed in anguish. “Help me!”
“Please,” he whispered, choking on the word, choking on his sobs. “Please bring him back to me…”
Chapter 18
Notes:
aftermath of Meidron's death. Warnings for intense grief and bereavement, survivor's guilt, and self loathing. Not gonna lie I cried during a good chunk of writing the first half of this chapter, mostly because I wrote it immediately following the last chapter when Torric's grief was so fresh in my mental space. If it made you cry I did my job. If it didn't, shhhh and let me pretend I can write a gut wrenching scene.
Chapter Text
Senshia put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Kitten-”
“NO!” He screamed, shaking her off. “He can’t be gone.” He sobbed over his fallen lover’s body.
“WHY DID YOU DO THIS?!” He cried. “Why, Mei Mei? Why did you do it?”
“For you.” Liam said quietly. “He did it to save you.”
“I would rather have died!” He shrieked.
Liam slapped him across the face, the action ringing through the chamber, shocking him. “You don’t get to do that. He gave everything for you, for us. Don’t minimize that by saying you’d rather die. He chose to die for you, willingly. Happily. Do not make that sacrifice meaningless.”
Torric poured his power into the body of his fallen lover, willing him to revive, not caring that his reserves were already low. He didn’t know what else to do other than try to keep his soul safe.
A silver and gold light began to infiltrate Meidron’s body, streaking out of the many, many cuts in his body. It slowly began to dissolve into glowing motes of light that Torric desperately tried to capture, to contain. He tried to cage the light in his claws, but the light burned through him, slipping between his fingers like smoke, like breath, like life itself. He may as well have been trying to contain water in a net as well as it worked.
I will keep him safe for you, my son, for his death was not your fault, but mine.
While I struck down Praetoria’s gods, I did not see their curse until it was too late. That failure is mine to bear, not yours.
The curse of the Praetorian gods will not drag him into their hells as they intended.
Fear not for his soul, he will move on to where he belongs.
I will send new guardians to meet you on the next floor who will aid you in reaching Avalon.
None can replace him in your heart. But I will not leave you without one who can serve you as your Meidron did.
She waits for you in the safe zone below not as his equal, but one who will carry the burden he laid down.
The gods of Praetoria are no more, and the gods of the demonic worlds have been warned that if they seek to undertake similar actions they will meet the same fate, as will their empire.
I am so sorry, my son.
This is not the end, only goodbye.
The silver light surrounded him in a comforting hug as he sobbed in Liam’s arms. When his cries thinned into shuddering breaths, he slumped limply, his body a dead weight in the elf’s arms. Senshia stepped in, her jaw set, and together they lifted him. His wings made cradling him impossible; instead Liam bore him piggyback, Torric’s head lolling against his shoulder, his claws tangled in the paladin’s torn armor as if afraid to let go even in unconscious grief.
They took them straight to an inn, paying for a single room for the three of them, though with two separate beds, then for private access to the bathhouse that was attached.
The steam was thick, fragrant with herbs meant to soothe weary bodies. It only made Torric’s tears harder to see, but Liam felt them as hot rivulets against his skin. They stripped him slowly, his ruined clothes peeling away in stiff, blood-crusted layers. He did not resist, did not even flinch, his body pliant in their hands like a life-sized doll.
They lowered him into the steaming pool. He did not react to the warmth, though his body sagged further, trembling faintly. Liam washed him with steady hands, knuckles white on the rag, his shoulders shaking though he made no sound. His skin burned faintly where soap entered venom laced wounds that had yet to close, each mark a reminder of the battle that had claimed more than one life. He welcomed the pain as a scourge. It was his fault Meidron died, he deserved the pain. To suffer.
Senshia’s face was stone, but her claws trembled once as she wrung out his hair, and she looked away quickly, as though ashamed of the slip.
When at last they dried him and dressed him in clean linen, Torric still wept in silence, tears falling without sobs, without end. Liam carried him back upstairs, each step heavier than the last, and laid him in one of the beds. He slid in beside him, pulling Torric close against his chest.
Torric curled instinctively into the warmth, his hands clutching at Liam’s tunic, twisting in the fabric and clinging as if he too would vanish in a sea of lights. For one broken breath, he whispered, “Mei…” as if expecting the incubus to climb into bed beside them, smirking, warm, alive. The name hung between them like a blade.
Liam’s composure broke at last. His arms tightened around Torric, his own tears wetting the boy’s hair. They lay together in the dim room, grief binding them tighter than any oath. Sensshia stood by the door, sentinel as always, but her eyes softened. For all her strength, she did not interrupt.
The silence of the safe zone pressed in, heavy and suffocating. After the shrieking of spiders and the thunder of battle, the quiet felt unnatural, unbearable. In that silence, grief filled every corner, every breath.
And in that silence, they mourned.
The safe zone’s silence pressed too heavy. Torric’s body eventually yielded to sleep, exhausted not just from the hours of fighting but from the intensity of his grief, but his mind did not rest.
He was back on the silk platform. The air stank of venom and burning ichor. His claws were slick with blood, his lungs heaving fire. The Broodmother’s scream rattled the abyss, then it wasn’t the Broodmother at all. It was Meidron.
The incubus stood before him, blood spilling endlessly from the dagger wound in his side, black smoke curling up his chest like claws. His grin was gone. His eyes burned with betrayal.
“You let me die.”
Torric staggered forward, reaching, but his claws only smeared more blood across Meidron’s chest. The wound widened as he touched it, splitting his body open like silk torn on a nail. “No! I tried…I tried to save you-”
“You didn’t try hard enough.” Meidron’s voice warped, deepened, echoing like a god’s judgment. His body convulsed, growing taller, wings tearing from his back, not the familiar velvet shadows but skeletal things dripping ichor. His face twisted into a mockery of his own grin, fangs too long, eyes hollow pits that bled light.
“You wanted me to die.” His words slithered out, accusation and damnation. “So you could be the hero. So that you would be alone with Liam. You loved him more.”
Torric dropped to his knees, clutching his head. “No! I would have given my life-”
“But you didn’t.” Meidron loomed over him, the curse flaring like molten chains across his veins. “You lived. You let me take the blade for you. You screamed for your mother to save me, but she didn’t.”
Torric looked up, and saw the battlefield playing out again, but distorted, his claws frozen at his sides while the dagger plunged into Meidron’s hips. His own body stood idle, silver light swirling but never striking. His mouth opened but no sound came. Only silence, only stillness.
And Meidron’s eyes, wide and wet and full of accusation.
“You chose me to die, little star .” His voice twisted on the nickname, turning it ugly. “Why wasn’t I worth saving?”
Torric’s scream tore his throat raw. The scene split, shattering into endless mirrors of Meidron dying: struck down by the cursed dagger, torn apart by spiders, burned by acid, gutted by human blades. In every one, Torric stood frozen, claws limp at his side, watching.
“No, no, please, no. ” He scrambled among the shards, slicing his hands open, trying to gather Meidron’s dying body into his arms again and again. Every time, it dissolved into black ash.
The ash rose into smoke. The smoke took Meidron’s shape one final time, shadow and fire burning from hollow sockets. He leaned close, his whisper cutting deeper than any blade.
“This was always your fault.”
Torric jolted awake with a strangled cry, soaked in cold sweat, silver light sparking violently off his skin. His claws tore furrows into the mattress as he gasped for air, eyes wild, chest heaving. For a heartbeat he thought the smoke still lingered, Meidron’s voice still in his ear.
But there was only silence. Only absence.
“Torric?” Liam’s voice was hoarse, still rough with sleep, but it was steady in a way Torric’s own would never be again. He pushed himself up, blinking against the sparks of silver light still flaring off Torric’s skin. “What’s wrong?”
“It was a nightmare.” He whispered, more to reassure himself than to answer his remaining lover, claws ripping shreds into the mattress. It was better it than his own skin. “It was just a nightmare. He doesn’t hate me. He can’t hate me… he’s dead.”
Liam caught his wrists, strong even through his own exhaustion, and held them still before Torric could tear the bed completely apart. or himself. “Look at me,” he said firmly.
Torric tried, eyes wild and rimmed with tears, silver glow burning them fever-bright.
“Meidron would never hate you.” Liam’s voice cracked on the name, but he forced it steady. He pulled Torric against his chest, wrapping him in arms that still shook from battle. “Not for this. Not for anything. He made his choice because he loved you. Because he thought your life was worth more than his. That was his will, not your fault.”
Torric buried his face in Liam’s shoulder, sobs tearing loose again. “But I should have-”
“No.” Liam pressed his palm to the back of Torric’s head, cradling him close. “Don’t take his choice away from him by drowning in guilt. Don’t dishonor his sacrifice by pretending he didn’t mean it. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he never, never , would have blamed you.”
The silver sparks dimmed slowly, leaving only the sound of Torric’s ragged breaths. He trembled in Liam’s hold, but the frantic edge faded, grief collapsing into bone-deep weariness.
Liam leaned down, lips brushing Torric’s temple in a kiss that was both benediction and promise. “He loved you too much to ever hate you. Remember that. Hold to that. That's all we have left of him.”
Torric clung to him, claws digging shallow furrows into his back, but he no longer fought. The words wrapped around him tighter than any blanket, pulling him back from the edges of despair.
Eventually, his sobs slowed, his weight sagging heavy against Liam’s chest. “I hate this.” He whispered. “I hate myself.”
Liam’s arms tightened, his voice low but fierce in Torric’s ear. “Then stop. Stop hating yourself for something you didn’t do. Hate the gods who cursed him. Hate the bastards who wielded that blade. Hate me if you need to, for not being fast enough to stop it. But don’t you dare turn that hate inward, kitten. Meidron gave his life because he loved you, not because you failed him.”
Torric shuddered, claws flexing helplessly against Liam’s back, leaving shallow furrows in the skin beneath his torn shirt.
“He’s gone,” Liam whispered, and his own voice broke on the words. “But you’re still here. And I won’t let you waste the gift he left us by drowning in guilt. I won’t let him be reduced to regret.”
“Because he was your lumin.” Senshia’s voice broke into the conversation from her station by the door. Her eyes gleamed faintly in the dark, unflinching, but her tone carried a rare softness. “You held his life in your hands during your crucible, kept it safe for months, reforging it. Imbuing it with pieces of yourself. When Meidron died, so did part of your own soul.”
Torric’s breath hitched. He pressed his forehead harder into Liam’s chest, as if he could hide from the truth in her words. The silver glow leaking from his skin guttered like a wounded flame.
“That’s why it feels like you’re bleeding inside,” Senshia continued, quieter now. “Because you are.”
“In my dream he accused me of loving Liam more than him. That I let him die.” Torric’s voice cracked on the words, shame thick in his throat.
“You did not love me more than him.” Liam answered firmly. “And Meidron would never say that if he were here. You did not let him die. You couldn’t do anything about it. He jumped in front of the blade.”
“Once the curse was on him,” Senshia agreed, her tone flat but not unkind, “there was nothing anyone could have done. That was a divinity-killing curse set by an entire pantheon, kitten. Even if you had taken the blow instead, you’d be gone now, no matter your bloodline. Only the Mother herself could have cleansed it in time and she was under attack. That was their goal, no doubt: to force her hand, to cripple her by striking through you. She already lost you once. To lose you a second time would have been a blow, not just to Bahumet herself, but in the faith of her followers that she would lose you twice.”
“I hate them.” He swore vehemently, voice twisted and ugly, all the gentleness normally contained within it gone. “I hate all of humanity. I want them to die. This is their fault. All of them.”
“Torric-” Liam’s voice broke. He tightened his hold, as if sheer strength could anchor him. “Don’t say that. Don’t let them twist you into this. That’s not you. That’s not who he loved.”
Senshia’s gaze sharpened from the shadows near the door, her tone cool as tempered steel. “Hatred will keep you warm tonight, kitten, but it will devour you by dawn. Humanity did not forge that curse, gods did.
The rankers that attacked us were only the pawns they bled to fuel it. Our mother avenged him for you. Praetoria is gone. Its gods are dead. All that is left of them are the scattered remains of its people who had happened to be off planet when it was destroyed, as those who had attacked us were.”
Torric’s breath came ragged, fury burning beneath his grief. For a heartbeat, the silver light flaring off his skin looked less like sorrow and more like fire.
“I want them dead.” He repeated, voice hard. Any Praetorian survivor. Every Praetorian survivor. They took my Mei from me, I will take everything from them.”
“Some might say you already took everything from them.” Senshia pointed out.
“THEY STILL LIVE!” He roared. “Therefore they have not had everything taken from them. They stole me. Convinced me I was nothing. Stole my childhood. My sense of safety. My self esteem. My innocence. My freedom. They stole my love, the light of my life. They murdered a piece of my soul, a piece of my heart in front of me. They will die. All of them!”
Liam flinched as though struck. “And me?” His voice cracked. “Am I not the light of your life? Do I not hold a piece of your soul and heart? Or was Meidron your true love, and I the afterthought?”
Torric’s fury stilled. He cupped Liam’s face with trembling hands, stroking gently as though afraid the elf would vanish too. “You are the only thing left in my life worth living for. The only thing keeping me from drowning every world in blood. If something happens to you too… I don’t know what I would do. Something bad.”
Liam swallowed hard, eyes searching his. “If I asked you to give up this path of revenge for me?”
Torric’s glow guttered. His voice broke. “I can’t do that, Liam. Please don’t ask it of me. I won’t hunt them with my own claws. But I will not let them live. I will send others. I will not let them walk free under any sun while his spirit lies cradled in my mother’s arms, but I will not put myself or you in further needless danger. Can we compromise there?”
Liam’s jaw worked, the muscles in his face tight with conflict. For a long moment he said nothing, his thumb brushing absently against the back of Torric’s hand as though grounding himself in the touch.
“I hate it,” he admitted at last, voice raw. “I hate what it will make of you. I hate what it will cost. But…” He exhaled sharply, eyes burning with both grief and love. “If this is the only compromise you can give, then I’ll take it. Because losing you too would break me, and I can’t-” His voice cracked, and he pressed his forehead against Torric’s. “I can’t survive that. I can’t lose you too. Not to grief and not to vengeance.”
He pulled Torric tighter against him, as if sheer closeness could shield them both from the weight of what was to come. “So yes. I’ll accept it. But only because I love you more than I hate your vengeance. And only if you go no further than this.”
Torric kissed him gently, then hungrily, not seeking sex, he couldn’t imagine having sex at this moment even if Senshia weren’t in the room. Instead he sought intimacy. Comfort. Connection. Liam kissed him back, the tears from two sets of eyes flavoring their kiss with salt.
When at last they broke apart, foreheads pressed together, their breaths ragged and mingled, the room felt a fraction less hollow.
From her place at the door, Senshia’s eyes gleamed in the dim light. She did not look away. “Then you endure,” she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of iron and inevitability. “Together. Until the Mother sees fit to ease this grief. It is as one that you will climb this mountain. The loss of a bosom companion is dear, but now is the time for the two of you to come together, rather than grow apart. Only then will you heal.”
Neither of them answered, but Torric’s hands tightened around Liam’s, holding on as though the act alone could keep the world from tearing them apart.
“If you can manage it, you should eat.” She added softly. “You need to recover your strength after the battles you’ve fought, and the one you fight inside even now. We can rest here tomorrow, but we must still press on. Sadly we do not have the time to indulge in your grief as long as I wish I could let you.”
“I still have-” Torric’s voice broke amid a fresh burst of tears. “I-I still have some of the food Mei cooked. He was always cooking so that I would have something fresh no matter what.” He stumbled over the words through his tears, choking on them.
“Then eat that, and feel comfort in his memory.” She said simply.”
Torric began taking out plate after plate, dish after dish, fresh as if they had just been made, filling the bed around them with the fragrant aromas of a dozen different meals. They ate together, tears salting their food, talking about the lover that they had lost.
Liam told stories from their time in school together before Torric had met them. Meidron’s parents were ambassadors from the demonic empire, he had known Meidron for years before Torric entered their lives, even if they hadn’t been close before Torric.
“His parents.” Torric choked over the thought. “Who is going to tell them? I took their son from them, let him die within days of carrying him off. They will hate me when they hear what happened.”
Liam’s face fell, his hand tightening around Torric’s. “They won’t hate you,” he said softly, though his own voice trembled. “They’ll grieve, yes. Gods, they’ll grieve. But they’ll know he chose his path. They always knew he was stubborn, reckless when it came to protecting people he cared for. That was him. That was Meidron.”
Torric shook his head violently, tears dripping into his lap. “But I was the reason-”
“No.” Senshia’s voice cut across his protest, firm but not unkind. “He was the reason. He chose to stand before you, to take the curse into himself. His parents will mourn their son, not condemn his beloved. Do not steal his choice by calling it your fault. That is not the legacy he left you.”
“I should be the one to tell them. We should go back. We can teleport to the surface, then come back later.” Torric replied, steeling himself for the agony of what was to come. To have to tell his beloved’s parents that their son was dead.
“They know.” Senshia said quietly. “Word was taken to them when you slept. I had to inform the safe zone what happened. I turned over the belongings of those who attacked us. I assumed you would not want to keep their loot, or the money from selling it.”
Torric shook his head vehemently. “I would not take money coated with Mei’s blood. I would sooner melt down all their items until they were nothing but ash and twisted metal and dump it in the midden heap where it belonged.”
“That’s about how I expected you would feel. Meidron’s parents are here. They arrived a couple hours ago. They want to escort you the rest of the way to Avalon. In honor of their son’s sacrifice. They didn’t want to interrupt you while you rested.”
Torric’s breath hitched, the words cutting deeper than any blade had. His claws curled tight against his temples as if he could crush the thought out of existence. “They’re here,” he whispered, voice hollow. “They came here…for me?”
“For him,” Senshia corrected softly. “For their son. To honor his choice. To make sure it meant something.” Her eyes, usually steel, softened for a breath. “You do not have to stand tall before them, kitten. You only have to stand.”
Torric buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking. The food around them sat half-eaten, steam curling faintly into the air. The mingling scents, savory and sweet, rich and sharp, felt like ghosts crowding the bed. He whispered, barely audible: “I don’t know if I can face them.”
Liam leaned in, pressing his forehead to Torric’s temple. “Then we’ll face them together. You owe it to them to meet them. We both do.”
Torric nodded grimly. “Let me put this away and then we can see if they are awake and willing to talk.”
Liam nodded and helped him slowly pack up the remains of their late meal. Meidron’s parents were both awake, and in their own room two doors down from theirs. When he walked into the room he could tell that they had both been crying, and recently, though they weren’t crying at that exact moment.
Torric fell into his mother’s arms in an instant, sobbing anew. She held him in her arms, rocking him as if he were her own son, her own hot tears running down her face and splashing onto him. He didn’t know how long she held him, how long they clung together as grief broke over them like waves, mother and what amounted to her son-in-law even though they’d never truly married. Connecting in a shared grief that was different, more private, than the grief he shared with Liam.
He did not know the woman in whose arms he rested. She was a stranger, they’d never even met before today, before now, but in this moment together their souls were united in a moment of understanding that transcended the fact that they were total strangers. She was his mother, the mother who could actually hold him in real arms, unlike the beast mother, and he was her son, the closest thing she could get to the son that she lost so suddenly.
Her hand cradled the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair. Her voice broke against his ear, soft but fierce: “You will continue to be part of our family. Always. Even though he is gone now. He would become a vengeful ghost if we abandoned you now”
Over her shoulder, Torric glimpsed Meidron’s father. The man sat rigid next to them on the cough face carved from grief, silent tears carving lines down his cheeks as he watched them. Torric reached out and pulled him closer, until they were all three embracing.
“My mother-” He began, choking on the words.
“My mother,” he began again. “She told me that he rests with her. That she will keep his soul safe and return him to where he belongs. I got the feeling she intends to carry him there personally.”
Meidron’s mother let out a broken sob, clutching him tighter. “Then I’m glad,” she whispered, voice raw. “Glad to know he’s being cared for, even in death.”
“The dagger he took… it was meant for me. Cursed by the gods of Praetoria to steal my divinity and kill me. Would have taken me to their hell.” His voice hardened. “They’re gone. She killed them all.” She saved him from that. And the gods of Praetoria are dead. She killed them all.”
He could feel the soul shards of the seven gods in their special seals in his inventory even now. As long as the seals remained unbroken they would not be able to resurrect themselves through their Legends. Or, she had left the knowledge of how to obliterate the gods permanently, should he choose, within his mind. As well as another ritual, which would also end in the permanent destruction of the gods. How to absorb their soul shards, the Divinity within them, their Legends and Records.
He removed the seven crystals from his soul storage and put them on the table in front of them. They gleamed, the most beautiful gemstones he’d ever seen, a sparkling rainbow of treasures. He hated that they were so beautiful. It made him want to smash them just for existing and being so perfect when Meidron was gone. They should be ugly, foul.
“These are the soul shards of the gods who created the dagger that Mei Mei took for me.” He said quietly. “If we break them their souls will be freed to reincarnate.” He warned before anyone could react as he had wanted to.
“That said. My mother left within me the knowledge of two rituals. One to obliterate them from existence completely. Their Records, their Legends. Everything. It will break the Belief of any Praetorian still alive who are True Believers, damaging their souls with the knowledge that their gods are well and truly gone forever, their souls passed on into Oblivion, their Legends forever broken, their Records deleted..”
“Or?” Katseya asked.
“The other allows me to absorb them. Their Divinity. Their Records and Legends. They will all empower me, and their Legends will be rewritten for all time that their doom came at my hands, and so will be the doom of any other lesser god who thinks to strike against me. It will aslo break the Belief of their followers, damaging their souls to know that I, the destroyer of Praetoria consumed the very souls of their gods. That I personally Obliterated them, ate their Divinity, corrupted their Records, and rewrote their Legends.”
“The second one.” She said immediately and without hesitation.
“Yes.” Meinorn agreed. “That you would be empowered by destroying those who killed my son, who tried to kill you. That would surely lift Meidron’s soul to the highest of heavens, resting easy in the knowledge that you have become stronger for his sacrifice,” his voice twisted viciously. “And the vengeance in knowing that you broke the souls of the followers of every one of their surviving followers makes it so much sweeter.”
“Liam, you have a stake in this too.” Torric said, turning to his surviving lover and pulling him into the group. He had waited, letting them have their moment of grief, knowing that they needed it, but Torric knew he was grieving just as much. And this was right to have a say as much as anyone else.
“You don’t even need to ask.” Liam answered. “You know my answer.”
“I did need to ask.” He insisted. “Even knowing how you would vote. The point is you have the right to vote too. He was as much your lover as mine.”
Katseya kissed the top of Liam’s head. “You’re family too, young one. And thank you for letting us have that moment with Torric.”
“You both needed it. There are some griefs that are private. Torric and I had ours, you needed yours. So how do you do the ritual?”
“I need some supplies. And it has to be done in the lattice, since it connects to every world in every universe.”
His mother had left a lot of knowledge about the truth of the lattice and what it was when she’d left the ritual in his mind. It had been context important to understanding the ritual. Ritual magic wasn’t as simple as copying magic circles from a page and reading a specific chant. It took deliberate intention, and a deep understanding of every aspect of it, if it was to be successful. To perform it, he would need to understand every thread, every weight, every consequence. And this one would not just change him. It would echo across creation.
“And some of it is really expensive, I’m also not entirely sure where to get it commercially, so we’d have to go hunting for it.”
Katseya laughed. “You have a prince, an S class, and an elite noble house of the demonic empire sitting in this room. We probably have the items in our own personal stores between us, or in Liam’s case we’d have to send for it from the surface.”
“I’m not used to being around rich people who share things with me. Slave on a backwater human planet, remember?” He replied bitterly.
The room sobered. “Forgive me Torric, I hadn’t meant-”
“No, I shouldn’t have lashed out. Let us forget it as if it never happened. We’re all overwrought. As for what we need… Philosopher’s Ink , the highest grade we can get.”
“Done. I have enough Legendary quality on me to drown the room.” Katseye replied.
“A Chalice of Still Waters , a Dragonfire Brazier , Sacrificial Flame , an Eclipse Cauldron , Obsidian Dust . Moonlight Oil . Sanctified Eclipse Water . Tears of the Faithful .”
“I have all those too. I specialize in ritual magic, and those are all so far very common. Well, not the Tears of the Faithful . But that’s no trouble. But for this kind of ritual you’ll need other things that are going to be a lot harder to come by that you haven’t listed yet.”
“I already possess the remaining ingredients needed.”
“Then I have everything you need. And I’ll be able to help you recover after. And I’ll explain to Liam what is going to happen once the ritual has begun. As well as what you’ll need after. Rituals for consuming soul crystals are fairly common. It's the content of the rituals that vary. I obviously don’t know the details of your ritual, nor will I ask, but I know roughly what’ll happen from the outside.
Are you close enough to Evolving for this to tip you over? If not, I would wait.”
“I’m level 1997 after surviving those assholes.”
“Perfect. Her eminence has given us permission to portal us straight to the 76th Floor, so we can go as soon as you are ready.”
“We are no longer going to spend time hunting the badlands and trying to level you all up. Not after what just happened.” Senshia spoke up from the door. “We are heading straight for Avalon and Morrigan’s trial. No one would dare try to attack us there. She regretfully cannot send people to escort us, as that would look like favoritism and she has to remain impartial.”
“That’s fine. If someone tries to come for me in the badlands, the way I feel, I’m going to rip them apart with my bare hands. Without magic.”
“You’ll be running the trial with just you, Liam, and the agent the mother sent for you, there you will be able to unleash as much as you want.” Senshia promised.
Torric made a face. “I hate the idea of bringing in someone new after all this. I can’t help but feel like I’m going to resent them just for existing, and that isn’t going to be fair to them. The mother told me that they would be coming…are they here yet?”
“Yes. She is.” Senshia replied. “I think it won’t be as bad as you are expecting. Shall I go get her?”
Torric took a steadying breath, then searched Liam’s face, who nodded. “It isn’t going to be a betrayal of Mei to let someone else in. And I cannot imagine the beast mother sending someone to you who wouldn’t be harmful to you, to us, and the state we are in.”
Senshia left and they set themselves to rights, wiping away the remnants of snot and tears, straightening crumpled clothes, combing frizzy hair to rights. It was going to be obvious that all four of them had been crying when the newcomer arrived, but it would have been more odd for them to not bear the marks of their grief with their tragedy so fresh upon them.
A few minutes later there was a soft knock on the bedroom door and Senshia led in Lily Howling Moon. Her ears were pinned to her head, tail tucked between her legs, and far from looking like the confident young woman who had appeared before him not even a full 30 hours ago.
“Lily?” He asked, confused. “I thought Senshia was bringing the one who my mother sent to me.”
“She did.” Lily answered. “The mother came to me and said you would need me, if I was willing to serve. That you needed someone who would not make you think of your lost love, and who you could not manipulate into becoming his replacement through your own grief.”
“What-” He swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. “How can you serve me and this party?” He asked, trying again.
“I am a shaman, one who specializes in healing magic. You don’t have a dedicated healer. I’m not C grade like you two, but I am D, and a high D at that. I was a slave, yes, but a debt slave. I sold myself to cover the spell ingredients needed to save my tribe from a plague. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat if I had to. My former master used me as a dungeon slave, but I was also the spiritual leader of his slaves, whether he knew it or not. I can help you grieve and adjust, if you’ll let me help you.
I am not entering your bed any time soon, and I’m not going to spend all day flirting with you the way your lost mate did, but I do know how to take care of you, physically and emotionally. Maybe not in the same way, but you don’t need the same as your lost mate. You need someone entirely different. And you don’t need to worry about me trying to take advantage of your grief to sneak into your bed.”
“Good, because I would kill you if you tried.” Liam told her frankly. “And I don’t care who sent you or if you wear Torric’s brand. If I think you are going to hurt him in any way I will kill you. He does not need some bitch in heat panting after him after watching his lumin literally die in his arms.”
“I am a healer.” She repeated, the words laced with affronted annoyance. “Any healer who tries to crawl in bed with a patient as damaged as his eminence deserves to have their magic ripped out root and stem then thrown in prison for violating their oaths.”
Liam blinked, the heat in his eyes cooling a fraction. “Good,” he said, jaw still tight. “Then we understand each other.”
Lily didn’t look away from Torric. “May I examine you, your eminence? Aura only. No touch unless you consent.”
Torric’s throat worked. He nodded once. “Aura is fine.”
She stepped close enough to feel the warmth of his silver glow but not close enough to cast a shadow over him. Her pupils narrowed; the faintest ripple of spirit-sense brushed his skin like cool breath.
“Acute grief spiral,” she murmured, mostly for the record. “Night-terrors anchored to a guilt construct. Soul strain from intimate divine contact. “I can stabilize the soul strain and blunt the night terrors, I can also blunt the worst of the grief, at least temporarily. I can’t take the grief away permanently, and I can’t cure it with magic. Only time, love, and faith can do that.”
Torric’s hands curled, then uncurled in the hem of Katseya’s mage robes. “Do it. Please. Anything to make this less awful.”
Lily lifted her palms, empty. “Three rules. One: I don’t cast spells on you while you sleep without prior consent. Two: anything I do to your mind or spirit is explained first, in words you can repeat back to prove you can understand it. Three: if you tell me to stop, I stop.”
She glanced at Liam. “You may stand between us at any point. But if you interrupt a stabilization mid-thread, you could hurt him. If I say ‘hold,’ you hold.”
Liam’s chin dipped. “Understood.”
“Last thing,” Lily added, voice dry. “I don’t need your bed, but I do need a chair, clean water, and two minutes of quiet.”
The room shifted around her quiet competence like a tent pole planted firm amid a gale. Senshia dragged a chair from the wall with one hand and set a basin on the table with the other. Liam stayed at Torric’s shoulder, a steady anchor. Torric watched Lily’s hands, the faint tremor in her fingers that she pretended wasn’t there.
“What will you do first?” he asked.
“Cut the nightmare’s teeth.” She crouched to meet his eyes. “Not remove it. It’s a grief-shade; you need it to process your emotions. But I won’t allow it to gnaw your soul bloody. I’ll bind it to a softer form, tame it a bit. When it comes, it will still come, but it will come like a gentle rain rather than a driving hurricane.”
“And I’ll apply a soul brace.” She tapped her sternum lightly, not his. “Think of it like splinting a cracked bone. It holds the bone in place while your body does the work it must do to heal. Is that alright?”
Torric closed his eyes, breathing once, twice, and opened them again. “Yes.”
Lily exhaled, then spoke in a low cadence that was more steady breath than chant. She lifted her hands and held them just above his chest but did not touch him; the air between them thickened, a subtle pressure change like the hush before rain.
Silver sparks along Torric’s skin flickered, then steadied, still bright, but less wild. The weight in the room shifted, not lighter, but held. The panic-edges that had been cutting his breath eased back just enough that the next inhale didn’t scrape.
Lily’s ears rose a notch. “There. That’s the brace. It’ll last for two weeks without refreshing it, but I’ll refresh it morning and night if you allow.” She hesitated, then added, softer, “You will still dream. But the voice in your head that says this was your fault will sound farther away. You’ll be able to quiet it now.”
Torric let out a sound halfway to a laugh and nowhere near. “Thank you.” Liam’s hand squeezed his shoulder in comfort.
“It is nothing I would not have done for anyone else in the same situation.” Lily stood, tail no longer tucked but held low and still. “You’re welcome. Now eat something salty, drink something warm, and sleep as two, not one. Shared breath helps the brace set.”
Senshia’s gaze flicked between them, the closest thing she had to a smile ghosting her mouth. “Practical and precise. You’ll do.”
Lily huffed once, almost a laugh. “I try.”
She turned for the door, then paused and glanced back at Torric. “When you’re ready to speak I know the shape of grief-work that follows trauma like yours. I can prepare rites to help the echoes pass through you instead of tearing you on the way.”
“Later.” He replied simply. “I’m not ready to face…that… yet.
“When you are ready, then.” Lily dipped her head. “Rest, your eminence. Rest, all of you. Healer’s orders. I know you all want to leave to do your ritual as soon as possible, but you need to rest first. Rest and process, or that ritual you’re planning is going to blow up in your face.”
She left as quietly as she’d arrived. The room breathed. Torric leaned into Liam, and for the first time since the abyss, his heart didn’t feel like it was falling.
Chapter 19
Notes:
This chapter features Clydesdale sized leech monsters with far too many teeth. There's also some ritualized blood/soul magic. I can't think of anything else that would need a content warning. Next chapter we reach Avalon and begin the trials to enter Avalon Academy of the Ascended and we start our College Life (TM) story arc.
Chapter Text
When they were finally ready to depart for Avalon their numbers had swollen considerably. Lily was now in his personal party, alongside Liam and Senshia. With them were Meidron’s parents, but also a full royal guard unit of 14 from Solstheen courtesy of Liam’s parents.
Katseya used the back courtyard of the inn they’d been staying in to perform the ritual that would open a gate directly to the entrance of the 76th floor.
Knowing nothing about the ritual, he could only watch how the succubus manipulated the mana flows within the space, infusing it into the items, the spell circle, the chant. It would be the closest thing he got to training before he performed the ritual to consume the soul shards of the gods of Praetoria.
The moment her chant ended the circle beneath their feet flared with a brilliant scarlet light, and then they were standing in the entrance to the 76th floor, as if they had just left the 75th floor.
The party arranged itself in formation around Liam, Torric, and Lily, with Senshia directly at their backs and Meidron’s parents in front of them. The guards split 7 and 7, half in front and half behind.
They did not have to go far into the floor to reach their intended destination. The entrance to the lattice, also known as the badlands.
Monsters of any and every variety could be encountered here. Randomly spawning at any point, day or night. And there very much was day and night, each with their own dangers. Deadly mana storms in many different forms ravaged the landscape.
Hidden among the depths were dungeon scenarios, some that existed only for a few hours before disappearing, never to be seen again. Others were stable, and had been reliably farmed for centuries or longer. Before they were going to traverse the lands slowly, trying to hit as many scenarios as they could before getting to Avalon’s dungeon.
Instead they were going to move as swiftly as possible to Avalon, stopping only when they had to defend themselves from monsters, seek shelter from a storm, or the daylight period ended and night began. No one traveled at night in the lattice unless you absolutely had to.
They would not be pushing too hard, however, for when the moon was at its highest he would be performing the ritual and being exhausted when it was time could catastrophicly cock shit up.
The party took off in the direction of Avalon at a ground eating jog designed to take them a long distance at a decent speed without exhausting themselves. The pace was set to Lily as she was the slowest, being the lowest grade. At her pace Torric’s natural recovery kept his SP topped up. He could have run circled around her and not gotten tired, though he did not. That would be rude.
It was on their third hour of travel that they first ran into trouble. A group of 7 massive reptilian two headed creatures with rows of wicked looking teeth and great claws that could easily rend through flesh named Diadormaphadons. Torric, Lily, and Liam stayed back with Senshia while the rest of their protectors met the monsters in battle.
They subdued the beasts quite handily, especially with Meidron’s parents on hand who easily entranced them using their demonic powers. Once they were on their death throws Katseya and Meinorn had Liam, Torric, and Lily step forward to take the killing blows, thus getting not just participation experience but the bonuses for landing a killing blow. Meinorn even had a loot ability so they were able to easily loot the monsters without making a mess butchering them.
They all followed the same patterns, only resting a few times for Lily or to have a quick break to hydrate and refuel. Most of those breaks were at Lily’s insistence, saying that Torric needed the infusion of devotion.
Every time she’d ordered those stops had been when he had started to get too upset thinking about his lost third. Annoyingly the stops for food or drink did help. Not just because of the stabilizing effects of the devotion that the food contained but because it was all items that Meidron had prepared. It was like being with him once again, if only for a few minutes.
No one mentioned his red rimmed, swollen eyes, and pretended not to notice when silent tears slid down his face, cutting grooves in the tracks of dirt that accumulated on their skin from the driving ashy winds they were jogging through.
They stopped close to when the lattice would switch from day to night. There was no setting of suns, for the lattice had no suns. They would merely go from full daylight to the sudden dark of midnight in an instant, revealing the star strewn sky of the lattice. Each glistening light its own planet, its own world. With enough time and effort and careful plotting you could supposedly travel to any other world in the multiverse.
While the ‘adults’ set up camp and organized the night watch, Lily, Liam, and Torric sat in the center of the protected space, setting up their mobile kitchen. Meidron’s mobile kitchen. Just seeing it made Torric choke up, but he was not going to let the items go to waste. He didn't want to plow through all of Meidron’s stored food and Lily needed to show off her cooking skills since she was supposed to be taking care of that aspect of their travels.
“When I evolve I can take you with me.” He told her softly. “Put you through something similar to the reforging I did with Liam and…” Torric’s fists clenched, throat closing over Meidron’s name. He couldn’t say it without choking.
“It would mean you could partake in my devotion laced food and we have to carry 2 sets of supplies. And you won't have to make 2 different meals every time we stop. It’ll also help your power grow faster.” He tried to keep his face and voice as neutral as possible.
He knew nothing of Lily, but without a third his soul was dangerously unbalanced as it was. He’d come out of his own crucible with a foundation built of three. Now he was a table missing a leg, it would be very easy for him to be knocked over.
If his mother sent her then he had to trust that Lily would be a good fit for their triad. That said, his offer was far from casual. Her soul would be bound to his, tighter and deeper than any marriage. Tighter than a god and their True Believers or priesthood. Marriage could be broken, oaths could be bent or broken, and gods sometimes abandoned their followers. But this bond would be permanent, marrow-deep, carved into the roots of both of their souls.
“Are you sure?” She asked quietly amid the noise of the camp being set up. Her hands did not pause in the steady, precise motions as she chopped vegetables into neat identically sized cubes for whatever meal she was making.
“No, but it must be done and my mother would not have sent you to me if you would be a bad fit. I am… unbalanced. I feel like I could fall to pieces at any moment, and I don’t mean from grief. My power could fall to pieces. Maybe Senshia could survive that, and Katseya and Meinorn, but everyone else would die if I lost it.”
“I won’t be the one you lost. The bond we forge will be different. Will feel different, for he and I are two very different people. I cannot replace him in your soul. I can only fill the aching hole with my own presence.”
“I don’t want you to be him. To replace him. That would dishonor his memory. But I need someone I can trust to help balance me and right now the only one who can do that is you. I … I need you Lily.” His voice trembled over the confession, and Liam reached over and silently took his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.
“Then I will answer your need, eminence. I cannot become your lost love, but I can be the third leg to your table, the foundation stone of your home.”
“Then I am Torric, not eminence.”
She stopped cutting, laying her knife down on the cutting board with deliberate care. “Then it is nice to meet you, Torric.” She told him gravely, meeting his eyes. “I will do my best to serve you with the dedication you deserve and that I can provide the comfort you so desperately need.”
By mutual unspoken agreement they turned the conversation away from its weighty topics and into something much more simple. Dinner. Lily made a creamy stuffed pie, which she called pot pie.
The golden flaky crust filled the pot she’d used, and inside the crust was a thick gravy full of the many vegetables she had chopped up, as well as shredded cockatrice meat and pulled ironback pork. It was both hearty and comforting, for all that he had never seen such a dish before. The act of eating something new together, in sharing the warmth of it, eased the jagged edges of his soul more than he expected.
And that it was so clearly different from the elegant, fancy meals that Meidron had crafted had helped more than he expected. He needed the homey comfort of ‘peasant’ food over the court food he’d been enjoying. It felt like a return to his roots, or at least the parts of his roots he cared to remember.
The other guards took over the kitchen, with Torric’s permission, to cook their own meals, not just for themselves but Katseya and Meinorn as well.
“Why don’t you eat, Senshia?” Torric asked when she joined them but had no food, only drinking from her ever present flask.
“I don’t need to. Once you hit A rank you don’t really need to eat or drink more than once or twice a month, the same with sleep. One good night a month is all the sleep you’ll need. At S you don’t need to eat, drink, or sleep. You exist just on mana, or in my case mana and devotion. Don’t need to breathe, either.
Torric blinked. He couldn’t imagine not needing to eat or sleep, the small mortal rhythms that kept him tethered. To discard them felt both liberating and profoundly alien. Let alone not breathing.
“So what is in the flask?” Torric asked curiously.
“Wine. It is the only offering of food or drink I'll accept. The flask is enchanted to connect to the barrels in my temples and I can switch vintage at will. It's easier to use the beverage as a carrier than absorb it directly. And it tastes good. Perks of being a god. You always have the best booze.”
Once everyone had eaten and put away their meals and full dark descended upon the lattice between worlds, Liam, Lily, Torric, Senshia, Katseya and Meinorn gathered together just outside the camp in the space that Katseya had ritually cleansed and prepared for him. Torric could have cleansed it himself but Katseya had far stronger Skills in that regard and it gave her her own opportunity to help.
The air there carried a sharp, crystalline stillness, like the hush before a storm. Torric could have done the cleansing himself, but Katseya’s touch lent a deeper resonance, and it gave her her own moment to contribute to the working.
Torric knelt and set out his ingredients with deliberate care. The small clink of glass and the faint rustle of cloth seemed loud against the silence of the group. Then he uncorked a bottle, the faint aroma of cold stone and bitter resin escaping as he dipped his brush into the prepared oil. Made up of Obsidian Dust, Sanctified Eclipse Water and Moonlight Oil, it gleamed strangely in the moonless light of the lattice night.
He got down on his hands and knees and began carefully inscribing the prepared mixture on the ground, painting an elaborate circle across the ground.
First the circle itself. Black grit shimmered with silver motes, the liquid sliding with the languid resistance of molten glass. When Torric touched it to the ground, it hissed faintly, leaving a line that pulsed with a dim glow as though it were alive.
Then the seven points of the heptagram, Each stroke left behind a faint vibration in the air, a low hum that grew stronger as the circle closed. Then came the seven arms of the heptagram, inscribed one by one with sigils of unbinding, unmaking, devouring, absorption, deletion, rewriting, and setting.
Each carried its own sensation: unbinding tasted like iron in the mouth, unmaking muffled sound as though the world drew breath inward, devouring chilled skin as if unseen teeth grazed along it. By the time the last point connected, the ground itself seemed to thrum beneath his palms.
Next came the middle circle, woven with sigils for death, vengeance, justice, remaking, and rebirth, their lines folding into the angles of a pentagram. As he painted them, faint scents rose, charcoal, spiced blood, crushed myrtle, each scent disappearing as quickly as it came, as though swallowed back into the ink..
Finally the innermost and final circle of the three, meant for protection and containment. This circle sparked faintly gold against the others’ darker hues, like molten chains snapping shut. When he connected the final line, the whole design ignited and flashed with brilliant gold, silver, and black light, sealing Torric and Lily within. No would be able to break into his circle unless he was dead, unconscious, or the ritual had been completed.
Outside the circle, the others watched in reverent silence. The smell of oil and ozone lingered. Even Senshia, who rarely bowed to mortal workings, tilted her head as if acknowledging the gravity of the moment.
Torric set up the Dragonfire Brazier, filling it with the blessed blocks of enchanted white charcoal. Then he uncorked the Sacrificial Flame, pouring the luminous blue fire onto the charcoal, placing upon it the Eclipse Cauldron.
Then he took out the Chalice of Still Waters and began chanting.
“Blood of the binder, freely given. Tears of the faithful, freely shed. Blood of the stone, ground to dust, oil drawn from moonlight’s shroud, water eclipsed by shadow’s night. Blood of the void given to light.”
He intoned, beginning to mix Obsidian Dust, Moonlight Oil, Sanctified Eclipse Water, the Tears of the Faithful, his own blood and the essence of the Void itself, provided by his mother.
“By these I mark the debts of gods.For chains of love broken, for the fires of vengeance unquenched, for the cries of the beloved left behind, in the silence of prayers that will forevermore go unanswered.
I pour my will into the Chalice of Still Waters. Here punishment finds its vessel, here judgment takes its shape. By water dark, by void, by the might of the mother who sees all, I seal this chalice. Let it drink the seven souls of false divinity and let their power break upon my will.”
Ominous red light flecked with black sparkles burst force from the chalice and the smell of blood and the essence of the night itself perfumed the air. He poured the contents of the chalice into the cauldron to begin to heat upon the fire of the Sacrificial Flames.
One by one he placed the soul stones into the bubbling mixture. The dying scream of despair of each god broke through the air as the soul shards shattered within the liquid. When each shard broke a different colored light burst forth with each scream, the same color swirling into the blood red and black speckled medium. Swirling within but not melding and incorporating.
“Seven shards of broken thrones,
Seven hearts of Divinity lost,
Seven cries that echo vain,
Seven debts of death to pay.”
He began chanting, dipping his hands into the boiling mixture and painting sigils upon his skin. It burned his flesh, scalded his skin, but he welcomed the pain.
“I pour your power into still waters,
I break your names upon my Will.
What you devoured shall be devoured,
What you chained shall be unbound.
The Records you forged will be deleted.
Your Legends broken. Ended.
By the blood that binds me,
By the tears that bless me,
By the void that births me,
By the fire that judges all
Fall, O gods of Praetoria.
Fall, and be no more.
Your strength is mine,
Your end is sealed.
Your Legends broken.
Despair as all you wrought becomes my power.
Despair as your dynasty crumbles.
Your names forgotten.”
He dipped the Chalice of Still Waters into the cauldron, then turned to Lily. “This is your last chance to refuse. If you drink of this chalice you will be unmade and forged anew. Even I, ridden by the powers of the void, do not know what you will become. Drink and become Lily Veythrari or refuse and remain Lily Howling Moon.”
Lily met his eyes and took the chalice from him and drank deeply, though she did not finish it. He face twisted with agony, but she persisted without a word.
Torric took the chalice back and drained it, his stomach immediately cramping and burning. He carefully picked up the cauldron, its superheated metal hissing as his skin touched it, melted against it. He poured the boiling liquid over his head, letting it burn down his body like fire.
Divinity infused into his skin, his blood, his bones, magic infusing his body. The cauldron dropped to the ground as he collapsed, unconscious.
-*-
When he woke he was being carried over Meinron’s back like he was a small exhausted child being carried by his father after a long day out. He had the feeling they were moving swiftly, far swifter than they had been running when matching their speed to Lily.
Meinorn slowed to a stop, signalling everyone else to slow and stop. Lily was being carried by Katseya, and Liam ny Senshia. Both were awake, and did not look like they had enjoyed being carried around the lattice at such a high speed. For that matter, their 14 guards also looked pretty worse for the wear.
“How long?” He asked.
“Three days.” Liam answered. “Thank gods you're awake. They weren’t going to let us run until you were up so we could gain time.”
“If I couldn't heal away my nausea I would have lost several meals over her ladyship.” Lily agreed.
She had changed quite a bit from the girl she’d been when he first met her. Taller, more muscular, not quite as curvy. She still had a wolf’s ears and tail, only now they were midnight black. A scattering of gold stars outlined with a halo of black ran along the edges of her hairline. Her eyes were now a luminous liquid silver edged in gold. Her skin was a smokey metallic silver now, glinting in the bright light of day.
“You look good.” He told her sincerely, though not in a way that meant he was coming onto her. He wasn’t remotely ready to fall into Liam’s bed, let alone anyone else’s.
“Thanks. You look…. the same?”
“Only on the outside. I refused to let my exterior change. It was the last thing Mei ever saw, these arms were the last things to hold him. I couldn't let them be reshaped. Let the memories of him on my skin be rewritten.”
Katseya let out a small choking sob and turned away, her hand covering her mouth, while Meinorn gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
“You’re B now.” Senshia remarked, “The third great threshold.”
The first threshold was becoming a ranker at all. It was not as common as one would think, but it varied by world. Torric had been born with the System installed, born a ranker. Few were. Now he knew it was because of his heritage as one of the Luminari.
The second great threshold was entering D grade. That was when your body shifted and upgraded. You stopped needing to eat as much, needing less sleep, less to drink. You went to the bathroom less because your body more efficiently processed the fuel you put into it. You could also start surviving purely on mana treasures and mana stones. Not well, and not long term.
B grade, however, was an even bigger shift. He definitely needed to eat and drink less, and could, if he chose, exist almost exclusively on mana in its various forms. Or devotion. The original level curves and experience gain formulas were gone now.
B, A, and the S classes each had their own formulas and ways to gain experience and thus levels. Your stats reset, no longer reaching into the millions and above. No longer were grades divided into low, middle and high. Now you had sub grades. He was a B sub bronze, the weakest.
Not to say that as a sub bronze he was weak. He was exponentially stronger than the strongest C as a sub bronze, and even more powerful to the ranks below.
After sub bronze came Iron, Steel, Silver, Gold, Diamond, Platinum, Mithril, Orihalcum, Ebony, Adamantite, Obsidian, Dragonsteel, Skyiron, and Celestial. Each subgrade boost came after 100 levels, save for the final 5, which upgraded at level 200. All told to get from B to A was a total of 2000 levels, the same for A to S, S to SS, and SS to SSS. And once you hit 2000 as a triple S you could Evolve into a true god, developing a divine core.
B grade was when you began forming your divine core, and you continued to build and refine it as you navigated the various grades and subgrades. That he had reached B grade while under 100 multiversal chronological years old was ridiculously hard for most people. Bahumet’s crucible had leapfrogged him up the Ladder of Heavens far sooner than he would have been able to do on his own, if at all. Such help from powerful relatives was pretty much the only way someone in their first life cycle, also known as their first 100 years, could reach B grade or above.
Now that he was in B grade his lifespan would be counted in the thousands of years, rather than a few hundred, or a few decades if you were a mortal. In the grand scheme of things, him being a grand total of 26 years old definitely made him a veritable infant when it came to the multiverse. Which was why he was going to the Avalon Academy of the Ascended. Such a school, and other similar schools around the multiverse existed only for the scions of great houses in their first incarnation. There were similar facilities for those who had reached their second incarnations, which ranged from age 100-500.
There were ways to get around the chronological aging problem, if you really wanted to rush through things. Time vaults, where time ran faster on the inside than in the real world, would allow you to train and level faster than traditionally possible.
All of this had been explained to him by Renethera while he’d been waiting for Senshia to arrive, and then some. His training on Praetoria had never included what life was like for rankers about C grade because he would never have ended up in the care of someone so exalted. C grades and above only had other rankers for servants and slaves. A mere mortal like he had been would never have occupied the same space as a C grade or above on Praetoria.
Avalon Academy of the Ascended took students in their first and second incarnations only, and of no greater than A sub Diamond. Once you hit A sub Platinum, assuming you still were a student at that point, then you were forcibly graduated from the school. Not that he’d hit AsP any time soon. Even with his daily level ups from the world cores that were fueling his body and soul it would take quite some time to get to A at all. 2000 levels gained through experience alone would not be as easily come by as his previous levels had been.
“What is your Class?” Liam asked curiously.
“Avenger of the Broken Moon. It’s another pugilist type class, but this one has more magic than Eclipse Fang Sovereign.”
“A magic based pugilist?” Katseya mused. “How interesting.”
“I feel like there is more to this than you’re telling us.” Liam replied, eyes narrowing. “A lot more.”
“I’ll show you and Lily my stats, and Senshia because she’s my guardian, but I refuse to share my stats with anyone else, no offense Momma K, Meinorn.”
“None taken, son.” Katseya replied without batting an eye. She did look inordinately pleased to be called ‘Momma K’ over her full name. How he’d known that she preferred that name from her children he had no idea, Meidron would have known, but he had never shared that knowledge.
“I do have one question… I have summoning Skills now, but they’re listed as Locked? I’ve never heard of that before.”
Senshia frowned. “Locked Skills exist, usually because they’re behind a level restriction or require some other trigger to unlock.”
“It says there is a 30 day timer on it.”
“Then we will discover what your locked Skills are when the 30 days are up, no doubt. However you’ll be in your trial by that point, and it will just be you and your lumin within it. We’ll have to wait to find out who or what your familiar is until after you come out the other side.”
“We’ll be waiting until you come out of the trial safely.” Katseya promised. “But since we aren’t going to be attending the Academy we can go straight to Avalon without undergoing the trial. In fact her majesty has prepared guest residences for us to stay in until you complete the trial.”
“And you still can’t tell me what the trial is?” Torric half-whined.
“No.” Katseya laughed. “And even if we could, the trials change to test each new entrant. Or in your case, entrants. Its part of the magic of the trial. Every entrant is different and so are the trials that must be passed as a result.”
“Now that you are awake and newly evolved, we will resume the pace we had once set, though now that young Lily is now early C instead of late D we can pick up the pace. We also won’t be avoiding what monsters we can. In fact Meinorn is going to range out around us to drag likely monsters to us for the three of you to practice on while we travel to Avalon. We made up a week’s travel by running while the two of you Evolved.” Senshia explained, indicating Lily and Torric. “Since we’re running ahead of schedule we don’t need to be quite so harsh over how fast we move, and we’ll be making better time than we would have now that Lily is grade C even without the training fights.”
“I’m sure you have a great deal of stored up devotion points after your little nap. The knowledge of what you have done to Praetoria’s primary deities has already begun to spread. You probably have too many Notifications to go through at the moment after your Evolution, but the System Notifications of the breaking of Praetoria’s gods’ Legends and the deletion of their Records already have rocketed through System controlled space.” Senshia continued. “For the time being we’ll let your nest egg continue to develop, then I will help you spend everything before you enter the trials.”
“How many Legends do you have now?” Katseya asked.
“Sixteen. I got two for each of the gods that I consumed, plus the one I already had that was my own.”
“That’s only 15.” Lily pointed out.
“I got another one…” He started, trailing off and looking down at his bare feet. “The Legend of Love’s Avenger. It's because of what I did to Praetoria’s gods. Why I did what I did. Who I did it for.”
“Our Meidron would be so happy to know that he was able to become a source of Legend for you.” Meinorn told him proudly.
“I’d rather he be alive.” Torric answered flatly, killing the moment. “I’d trade every Legend I own to bring him back.”
Meinorn shifted uncomfortably. “So would we all, son. So would we all.”
Senshia clapped her hands together. “Let’s get going. We’re burning daylight and Avalon is still a bit over 2 weeks away. Meinorn, why don’t you collect some training dummies for the children?”
The incubus nodded at her suggestion and they all set out, traveling in the same east by south east direction that they’d been traveling in. Now that Lily was a C grade, even if she was only level 1, they were able to go a lot faster. A lot faster. Torric didn’t realize how much they’d been limited by her earlier pace until now. And now he wondered how badly they were being delayed matching her current speed. Sure she was C grade now, but now everyone was between C and A rank, aside from Senshia’s S.
He was not about to make her feel like she was lesser than everyone else by asking for someone faster to carry her, however. That she had been carried so far was undoubtedly a strong source of humiliation, one that had only been made palatable by the fact that Liam and Torric were also being carried at the time. Now that they were running on their own two feet if they didn’t allow her the same option it would definitely upset her and hurt her feelings, neither of which Torric wanted to do.
They had not been jogging long when Meinorn came running at them from an angle, leading a pack of 20 to 30 leeches that were each as big around as a draft horse was tall. Their mouths were great gaping maws of three concentric rows of thousands of needle-like teeth, each one looking to be the length of his arm at their smallest, and longer than he was tall at their largest. He had the feeling that if a limb went into one of those mouths it would come back as bone stripped of all tissue, assuming the limb came back at all.
Using his Appraisal skill on the mob of leeches showed that they were all mid C in rank. If they’d been fewer in numbers he would have been able to take the swarm alone. But even at B grade Torric would be hard pressed to take on almost 30 mid C monsters alone. Without him, however, his two lumin would be quickly overrun and die. He was not about to let another member of his luminature die, especially not so soon after he’d lost Meidron.
They stopped their jog immediately, and began throwing buffs over each other in preparation for the fight that was at hand.
“Contact,” Liam barked, shield flashing up just as the first leech reached them. It was enormous up close, even larger than the draft horse size Torric had estimated them to be when they’d been further out, its hide armored with slime-hardened plates. A round mouth ringed with jagged teeth clamped onto Liam’s shield, gouging deep grooves.
“Disgusting,” Torric growled, rolling his shoulders. The pugilist’s aura flared, his body thrumming with the raw force of his new evolution. He launched forward, driving glowing claws into the side of the leech’s body. The impact cracked its plating, ichor spraying across the dirt.
That blow alone would have killed a lesser beast. This one only writhed, thrashing, and from the earth another six rose up, followed by more. Their guardians stood back, poised to intervene if absolutely necessary, but clearly intending to let them cut their teeth on the death leeches before getting involved.
Liam anchored their formation of three, shield flashing with divine light. Every time a leech tried to latch on, his shield-bashes and holy taunts kept them snapping toward him instead of at the more vulnerable Lily. But the sheer number meant he couldn’t pin them all, forcing Lily and Torric to cover the gaps.
Torric had power to spare, but was struggling with his timing. His speed was so much faster, and yet at the same time slower, than it had been. No, it wasn’t that he was slower, it was that his evolved perceptions and mental speed had slowed the world, and thus the fight, down drastically. The dramatic difference between the speed at which he perceived events as they happened and the actual speed that he, and his two partners, moved at, was making things extremely difficult for him. The good thing, however, was that with every passing moment he was adjusting to his new speed by a fraction.
Even so, his strikes were too heavy, too slow to chain. More than once he shattered a leech only to leave his side open. When another came at his flank, Liam had to intercept with his shield. “Pace yourself!” Liam snapped. “You’re throwing haymakers at gnats!”
“I am not used to packing this much power!” Torric shot back, driving a kick into a leech that hurled it ten paces away, black ichor splattering across the dust from where the claws on his feet had shredded the death leech’s side.
Lily kept her ground despite being the weakest of the three by far, one hand weaving sigils of wind and shadow while the other channeled mana through her mage staff. Her staff pulsed as she called down a wave of spectral wolves, echoes of her ancestry, which began tearing through the leeches in coordinated packs. Her control was not the best, however, as she was unused to the new spell. The spirits bit indiscriminately, snarling too close to Torric and forcing him to duck away from an errant attack.
“Warn me next time, little wolf!” he barked, batting aside a leech that nearly got through his guard.
She winced. “Still learning the leash. Hold them steady and I’ll burn them down.”
For a tense few minutes, they looked more like three people fighting near each other than a unit working together. Leech bodies piled up, but slowly. Torric’s fists cracked bone and plate, his claws shredding the exposed flesh beneath. Liam’s shield kept the tide from overwhelming them, and Lily’s wolves shredded the back line, but it was sloppy. They were sloppy. Uncoordinated.
Then, as if by unspoken agreement, their rhythm shifted. Liam braced his shield low, baiting a cluster of leeches into lunging. Torric slipped in on the opening, clawed hands slamming down with seismic force, brutally ripping through three in a spray of black ichor. Lily’s wolves surged at that same beat, tearing the stragglers apart before they could regroup
The last five tried to retreat underground. Lily raised her staff high, chanting, and the ground itself heaved. Earthen spikes tore through the soil, skewering them mid-burrow. They writhed once, then stilled.
The battlefield stank of rot and coppery ichor, black steam rising where the ichor burned away in Lily’s cleansing flames. Torric wiped blood and slime from his hands, chest heaving.
“They were hardly more than fodder,” he said, “but I fought like a drunk brawler.”
“You fought like someone who forgot he had allies,” Liam corrected, sheathing his sword. His tone wasn’t cruel, just firm.
Lily exhaled shakily, her wolf-spirits fading into smoke. “And I nearly burned you both. My control is sloppy.”
Liam set a gauntleted hand on each of their shoulders. “Then we keep training. The leeches are dead, and we’re standing. That’s what matters today.”
Torric grunted, but didn’t shake off the hand. Lily managed a small smile. They weren’t yet a seamless trio, but the first cracks of teamwork had formed amid the slime and struggle.
Once they made sure that all 27 of the death leeches were in fact dead, Torric got to show off his brand new looting Skill, converting the dead leeches into loot and gold coins.
“Hang on, what are these?” Lily asked, taking one of the coins that had appeared in her storage out to examine it. On one side of each coin bore a bas relief carving of Torric’s face, three quarter profile. The other side merely had the number 1 along with CDGS imprinted on the back.
“I make my own money now. Neat, huh?”
He started handing out coins to everyone present so they could inspect and Appraise them, discovering that a 1CDGS stood for 1 Common D-grade Gold Standard and was the equivalent of 2 common D grade astral coins.
“What kind of Skill lets you make your own money?” Meinorn marveled.
“It’s one of my Divine Skills that I got from consuming Praetoria’s god of Commerce. I got a Divine Skill for each of the 7 gods that I consumed.” He explained.
“You obtained Divine Skills?” Senshia asked, cocking her head to one side.
“That is very, very early, even for one of the Luminari. How many Divine shards do you possess?”
“I have 7, and it says I need 100, for something.”
Senshia nodded thoughtfully. “We will have to have a private discussion tonight. I did not think I would need to explain such matters to you for several years yet.”
They kept going for the rest of the day in a similar vein, jogging towards Avalon, stopping every so often only for Lily, Torric, and Liam to fight whatever monster or monsters that Meinorn dragged back for them.
They ended up stopping about two hours before night would come, not because they were tired or needed to set up camp before night fell but because a mana storm had formed in the distance and looked to be coming towards them with an alarming alacrity.
Here Torric was able to show off another one of his 7 new Divine Skills, this one called the Living Citadel. It took several minutes of focus and almost all of his mana to cast the Divine Skill but when he was finished a magnificent fortress stood in front of them, far, far too big for their group of 20, but he couldn’t really do anything about the size. The Living Citadel had a minimum size and a maximum based on how much mana you spent, but even at the smallest size was still monstrously large, as befitting a building by the appellation of Citadel.
When the manastorm arrived it was with thunder and fury where the rain was not made of water but razor sharp liquified diamonds. Heat blasted the area, hot enough that if they were outside the citadel’s protection their skin would have likely begun to blister and melt off from the heat alone.
Heat lightning thundered through the air, deafening unless you were in the deepest depths of the citadel, which they all were. No one wanted to risk a stray lightning bolt or molten glob of diamond breaching the citadel’s protections and killing them on the spot (depending on who got hit). Even the immensely sturdy Senshia would have found herself in a fair spot of trouble if she had been caught outdoors without magical shelter when this particular storm hit.
Since there was nothing to do but wait the storm out everyone split up to their own tasks. Many of the soldiers all set about cleaning and maintaining their equipment while Katseya and Meinorn disappeared. Liam and Lily also vanished, but to the kitchens and not a bedroom. The former prince wanted to learn how to cook so that the burden wasn’t entirely upon Lily, and she had graciously offered to teach him.
Torric knew how to cook but every time he offered to cook any meal since he acquired his luminature he was immediately and vehemently refused. It wasn’t even because he was a bad cook. He was no gourmet like Meidron had been, but he was fairly decent. Still, he’d long since given up on offering to help cook, though a rebellious part of his soul was seriously contemplating sneaking into the kitchen to cook up a storm when everyone went to sleep just because he could.
After all, it was his fortress. If he wanted to cook a feast in the middle of the night he could. And now that he was B grade he needed significantly less sleep. Lily and Liam were already lagging from the day’s fighting, he could tell even if they hadn’t been constantly hiding yawns behind their hands, but he felt as awake and energized as if he had just woken from a full night of uninterrupted sleep on an enchanted resource recovery mattress.
So while everyone disappeared to do their own things as they waited for dawn to find him he disappeared into a private room with Senshia for the little private chat she had wanted to have earlier.
The study was quiet, insulated from the bustle of the citadel. Only the faint crackle of the hearth broke the silence as Torric swirled the wine in his glass, watching the light ripple across the surface. Senshia’s gaze tracked him with that unsettling stillness she always carried, waiting.
“So,” he began, “you wanted to talk privately?”
“Yes.” A faint pause, long enough to feel deliberate. “I should have expected that you absorbing Praetoria’s gods would leave you with divine shards. I didn’t. Do you know what they are? And why you might need them?”
He frowned, rolling the stem of the glass between his fingers. “Uh. I assume I need them to form my divinity core. As for what they are…” He gave a half-shrug. “A shard of a god?”
“You’re part right.” Her eyes flickered with something unreadable. “You do need them for your core. But they aren’t a shard of a god. They’re a piece of living Divinity itself. Do you know what Divinity is?”
He hesitated. “It’s some kind of… magic resource you need to become a god?”
A soft exhale, almost a laugh but with no humor in it. “Not wrong. But far too simplistic.” She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Divinity isn’t just power. It’s the Record of a being’s truth, of their power. Their Will and Soul combined and crystallized into essence. When a god falls, it doesn’t leave behind scraps of body or soul. It leaves behind that essence, raw, dangerous, unfiltered. That’s what you’re holding when you speak of shards. It is what shapes you as a God. Big G, not little. It empowers you.”
Her tone shifted, the rhythm of her words heavy with ritual weight. “Divinity is built from three strands. The Record, largely in the form of Legends. The Will. And the Soul. Without all three, there is no god, big or little G.”
Torric arched a brow. “Explain.”
“The Record,” she said, “is the story etched into the System itself. Every deed, every vow, every betrayal a god commits is written there. Everything has a Record. Even the pebble in your shoe, were you wearing one, or the shit you took, the food you eat. Worship strengthens Records because belief gives permanence. If a Record grows strong enough, it becomes a Legend. To destroy a Record is worse than killing, it unravels a person’s place in history. It erases them. Without a Record, it is as if they never existed.”
She let the words settle, then continued more softly. “Legends, in turn, are Records that cannot be deleted, though they can be Broken. That is what you did to the Praetorian gods. You broke their Legends.”
Her nail tapped the stem of her own glass. “The Will is your intent given form. The conscious mind shaping the physical world. For one on the path of Divinity, it is the oath a god makes with reality itself. The War God’s fury. The Healing God’s mercy. Without Will, Divinity is volatile, power with no direction, lightning with no strike point.”
Her gaze sharpened. “And the Soul is the spark. Mortals have them too, but for a god the Soul is magnified, amplified by Divinity. It lets their essence endure across eons. When a mortal dies, their soul drifts in the astral until a god collects it and gives it a new form, reincarnating the soul in some new world. When a god dies, their soul ruptures, bleeding out shards of Divinity. That is what you hold. Not scraps of flesh or spirit, but crystallized strands of Record, Will, and Soul woven together.”
Torric swirled his wine again, watching the firelight shiver across its surface. “So each shard still carries those three things?”
“Yes.” Her reply was simple, absolute. “A shard remembers the story it was part of, the Will it carried, the Soul it bound to. That is why they can be dangerous. Take one into yourself, and you aren’t just swallowing power. You are swallowing the echo of another being’s truth. Their song collides with yours. If you are weak, it overwrites you. If you are strong, you break it and claim it. You make its Record your Record. That is how you form a Core, by binding those echoes into a truth greater than the fragments themselves. A Truth of your own making.”
She sat back, watching him closely, her voice softer but still weighted. “That is what Divinity is. Not just power. Not just magic. It is truth, story, essence. The marrow of a god.”
The fire snapped in the grate.
“Every Evolution you undergo reshapes your body, strengthens it, prepares it, so you can hold more power. So that you can fill yourself with Divinity and not burn up like a candle lit from both ends.” She tilted her head. “If you tried to form a Core now, assuming you even could, you’d die. Messily. Painfully. And take your luminature with you. It takes a hundred shards to form a single Seed. And you need at least 5 Seeds to make a Core. But a 5-Seed Core is a hollow thing. No one stops at 5. That is just the minimum threshold. Most gods don’t attempt it until they have at least 10.”
Torric’s knuckles tightened on his glass. A thousand shards.
“How hard is it to get a shard?”
“Pretty fucking hard,” she said flatly. “Especially at your level and grade. Most people aren’t even capable of forming a shard until they’re an A sub-Platinum. The fact you have seven already as a B sub-Bronze puts you well ahead of the curve. Shards are useful for more than just forming Seeds. Possessing one is a natural power boost. Faster regeneration for starters. A lot faster. And each shard you hold artificially boosts your subgrade by one tier. On paper you’re B sub-Bronze. In reality, with seven pure shards, you’re B sub-Mithril.”
“That’s good, though, right?”
“Yes and no.” Her smile was thin. “Great, when some young idiot wants to make a name by fighting the baby Luminari who just showed up. They won’t expect you to hit that hard. But if it’s discovered you hold seven pure shards? There are others who will try to take them.”
“Pure shards?”
She nodded. “Divinity shards come in two forms. Pure shards, born directly from the soul of a god. And composite shards, those rankers forge. It’s nearly impossible to kill a true god once they’ve formed a Core. We Luminari are gods in courtesy only, our parents are the real thing, and above even that, but that’s another lesson. Pure shards are more potent, but also more dangerous, because they still carry a sliver of the original god’s essence. You’ve already done the hard part, you tamed them. You excised the remnants of personality and Soul, replaced it with your own.”
“If someone else stole them, they’d bypass that risk. There are, however, only two ways to get shards from another. One is to kill them and loot the body, assuming you can trap the soul long enough to stop them from rematerializing. The other is to make them hand the shards over willingly.”
“Fat chance.” Torric snorted.
Her eyes glittered with shrewdness. “Even if they held Liam and Lily’s lives as leverage? Even if they promised to resurrect your Meidron?”
His throat went tight, but he said nothing.
“Exactly,” she murmured. “That’s why shards are both shield and target. They make you stronger, but they paint a mark on your back. And there’s one more thing, you should know this above all else. Shards want to be whole. They ache to become Seeds, to form a Core. The more shards you gather, the easier it will be to make new ones. Either by killing gods, which is far beyond you yet… or by forging composites.”
Torric lifted his gaze. “Could I form a composite shard now?”
Senshia favored him with an approving smile. “Yes, kitten. You can. And with seven pure shards as your pattern, it will be far easier. Every composite you make will carry more weight, more strength, than if you’d started with only one pure shard. Or worse if your foundation was set with nothing but a single composite shard. You have a very, very strong foundation. Now we will see what you build upon it.”
Senshia instructed him in how to form a composite shard, how to collect the soul essence of kills that he made in order to eventually form a shard. She even demonstrated the formation of a composite shard with her own materials, basing it off of a combination of his two pure shards of War and Death mixed with the pattern of a pure shard of Oblivion.
“This is a very strong composite shard.” She explained. “As it was made using patterns from three pure shards, two of which were shards that you personally already contain.” Senshia handed the shard over to him. “My gift to you, a congratulatory present for starting on the path to form your first Seed.”
“That was really nice of you, Senshia. Thank you.”
She waved away his thanks. “I only do what I should as your guardian. Were you in Renethera’s care when you created your first shard she would have done the same. Or any other Luminari.”
Lily popped in at that moment to inform them that dinner was ready…and to apologize for the meal he was about to consume. Liam’s help had apparently been very enthusiastic but very lacking in anything remotely close to skill. That was more than evident by the haphazard cutting of the ingredients, the partially burned bread, the rampant oversalting of one dish that Torric had to literally choke down.
He ate every last morsel provided, even that which was mostly inedible, praising Liam’s efforts every minute. The princeling was so damn happy at seeing Torric eat his food that it made every burned or overly salted bite worth it.
“I’ll be managing breakfast alone.” Lily announced. “Getting a good start to the day is vital, as is starting swiftly. It’ll go faster if I work alone.”
And it meant he’d get at least one edible meal a day, if Liam’s cooking lessons were going to become a nightly tradition. At least Liam’s skills could only improve, it wasn’t like he could get worse at cooking. That wasn’t how skill progression worked. Or Skill progression. It took pretty specific abilities to regress someone’s Skills.
The mana storm was still raging outside when they retreated to bed for the night. Lily had been intending to find her own room, alone, leaving Liam and Torric to sleep together in the master. Neither of them were willing to allow that, however, and insisted she join them to sleep, and only to sleep. Torric didn’t sleep when the other two did, instead meditating as he laid between them.
Chapter 20
Notes:
Over 1500 views, 8 bookmarks and 20 kudos. I feel like the little engine that could. Every day when I check and see those numbers slowly creeping up spurs me on to want to write more of Torric's story (even if that means my other works are getting less love right now.) I'm no longer on break from school so sadly the likelihood of getting 2-3 chapters in a 24 hour period like I had been producing is going to decrease unless I go into a caffeine fueled writing hyperfixation and decide that I'd rather write than sleep. More likely we'll be in a situation of a chapter every other day, or every day depending on motivation and my schedule.
Chapter Text
The next 2 and a half weeks fell into a pattern of jogging, monster fighting, and the occasional hunkering down in his fortress to wait out a manastorm. With Torric’s new loot power they were even able to pick up some better gear. And his treasure sense had netted them some even more amazing things. Not just weapons and armor, but Skill books, caches of astral coins, and all kinds of wondrous items.
Torric gave all the coin caches to the royal guards that had traveled with them. When he got money through his powers it was all in GS, making normal astral coins significantly less valuable. Better to make nice with the people who were risking their lives for him and had, as he learned, were actually relocating to Avalon with them to act as Liam’s guards since he was royalty, albeit foreign royalty, and not one in contention for the throne.
Liam's parents were more than happy to have a way to remove one block in a potential future succession crisis, especially since Liam’s status of a Luminari’s lumin was far superior than royalty. Still, his parents wanted people on Avalon to have a visual reminder of the support that they could levy.
Even though the Sol’feyran empire was only 3 planets strong, their military might was far greater than such a small empire traditionally could produce, and they also supplied food for a good chunk of the nearby multiverse. No one wanted to risk offending her imperial majesty and get their food supply cut off.
They camped out outside of the dungeon scenario that was to be their entry trial to the Academy. They’d all three grinded some serious levels on the trip. Lily was already a third of the way into her grade and had entered the first bottleneck that came with the grind from C to B. Liam too had hit the 2nd bottleneck that came at 600. The last 300 levels from C to B were particularly brutal.
Torric got to cheat most of that thanks to his mother shoving 46 planets into his soul. Not only had he immediately jumped to being in the late 1900s of C grade, but he gained 2 levels a day just by existing as he absorbed more of the world energy in his soul. Add that to the experience gained from the assassination attempt on Torric by Praetoria’s gods and absorbing their soul shards and what should have taken centuries to achieve happened in a matter of months.
Lily and Liam had also benefitted from his rapid ascension, being dragged into C grade with him.
Now that they had reached their goal the three sat down with Senshia, Katseya, and Meinorn to spent their free points and initiate the many Skill upgrades they had earned. In Torric’s case he also had mountains of Devotion and Skill points to spend. Plus he had reached the level threshold to upgrade to sub Iron, which came with its own bonuses. Like the ability to make a divinity shard.
Senshia had spent every night the last two weeks drilling the knowledge of how to do it into his head. And all three of the adults, Torric didn’t remotely count as a true adult yet by multiversal standards, none of the 3 of them did, had helped him decide which patterns to use to make his new Divinity Shard. He would also be able to incorporate the shard that Senshia had given him. If he was lucky one of the shards would allow him to develop a new Divine Power or Blessing.
The chances of such an occurrence from just two shards was unlikely, typically. But the more shards you had the more likely it became, and the more shards absorbed at each rank up also boosted the likelihood of getting a Power or Blessing. By the time he hit A he would be getting multiple Powers and Blessings at each sun grade rank up.
They wanted to take the time to get every stat and Skill as high as possible before entering the trial. Luckily Torric’s sub grade rank up wouldn't take days to complete like his grade rank up. He’d even had enough time to sit down to meditate after to incorporate his gains.
Then, suddenly he had found hours had passed and day was upon them and they were having breakfast before gearing up to enter the trial.
“Remember, it will seem like you are in there for weeks, and for you it will be, as you are entering a time dilated astral space. In the real world only an hour will pass for each day you are inside. You can leave at any point, but that means you failed the trial. And if you die in the trial you’ll just be dumped in Avalon, whole, healthy, and a failure.” Senshia said as they prepared. “There are plenty of other similar schools with far less stringent entry standards.”
Torric nodded. “We can do this.” He vowed, then stepped through the portal.
-*-
“I cannot do this.” He announced, greying at the scenario that he had found himself in. They were in a webbed dungeon. No, not just any webbed dungeon. A perfect replica of the dungeon that haunted his nightmares. The dungeon where Meideon died.
“You knew this was a possibility. The trial is designed to test your mettle in the face of your greatest fear or weakness.” Liam tried to soothe him. “Do you truly want to give up before you began?”
Torric’s eyes drank in the yawning web filled chasm in front of him and then steeled himself. “No. But this time we aren’t speed running. We are killing every fucking spider that comes our way. And we’ll take a full day’s rest between each floor. We get double experience while in here and these spiders won't have been dragged up from below the 70th floor.”
“You are also much stronger than you were then.” Lily reminded him.
They did not use spells or Skills to keep them from sending vibrations down the web road path, not this time, though they did use ones to keep them from being slowed by the webs. It did not take long for the first scout spider to come. Liam killed it with ruthless efficiency.
“You’re right. These are easier.” He said, turning to Torric with a grin. “Let's experience farm.”
This was no mad dash of desperation, fighting foes far stronger than they were. Nor were they the far more dangerous monsters of the lattice they'd been fighting. They were fighting against creatures the same strength as them. The same strength but not the same skill or intelligence.
Lily, Torric, and Liam had spent 3 weeks total fighting their way through the lattice together. Maybe the first week they were carried, the monsters spoon fed to them, but by the end they were fighting without assistance, at least against smaller groups or single monsters.
This time it was a scene of absolute carnage. They developed a system where when it was only one or two spiders Liam would handle them alone with Lily supplementing with heals and spells as needed. As a shaman she was a proper caster, and not just a Magic Skill user like Liam and Torric.
When they had 3 to 5 monsters Torric would assist when needed. But it was towards the end, when the spiders came in swarms did Torric’s new abilities shine through. A terror of shredding claws moving at impossible speeds, whipping magical chains around and dealing massive amounts of retribution damage and liberal use of his new suppression abilities.
Ripping into spider after spider with his bare hands was satisfying in ways he couldn’t really describe. It was like he was getting to face his own nightmare in real time, but this time he could fight back. He was the strong one. He didn’t run in fear worrying he was going to die. Instead he could exorcise his demons on magical constructs.
They took on the boss as a team, with Torric maximising his suppression abilities. He took the roll that Senshia had filled when they fought the real version of this boss, weaving a path of absolute carnage through the adds while Liam tanked the boss. Lily supported him with offensive magic, throwing out heals to both of them when needed.
When the boss went down it left all three of them with a rush of adrenaline, pride and endorphins. Torric pulled Liam to him, wrapping his arm around his waist and kissing him, really kissing him, for the first time since Meidron had died. He’d not been able to touch Liam most of the time, except at night when he had clung to him the entire time they slept.
When he broke the kiss Liam searched his face. “There’s the kitten I remember.” He said with a soft smile. “Welcome back.”
“I’m not. Not all the way. But this is helping. More than I thought it would.”
“Me too. I’m not going to lie, when we got here part of me wished you did turn around to give up. This place has no good memories for either of us.”
“Sometimes fighting the literal manifestations of your fears can be freeing.” Lily said, then paused before adding, “But sometimes it makes the trauma worse. I am glad it is the first, and not the second.”
They trooped down to the next floor, setting up a temporary camp in the antechamber at the entrance. Lily used an alarm spell, several, actually, so that if a spider did try to come in while they rested they would be alerted. They all slept in their armor, weapons next to their bed, just in case.
Before sleeping though they were able to get clean courtesy of one of Lily’s spells. It was quite refreshing to go from being covered in sweat and blood and viscera to fresh as if he had just bathed in an instant. And it meant he didn’t have to clean his armor after, if he wore it when she used the spell.
Lily cooked with Liam’s assistance, which was slowly but surely improving. The atmosphere was relaxed, jovial almost, like they were actually on an adventure the way adventurers did. This was the life Torric had wished he could have, not the terrifying rush of death and danger it had become after being uncursed.
When they woke up 5 hours later, fully refreshed thanks to the enchantments on the beds, they set out once again, using the same tactics as before. Floors that that they had charged desperately through before they walked confidently through now, deliberately clearing as many spiders as they could as thy went. Floors crossed in 5 hours were now taking 15.
They took injuries, Torric a lot because that was what his build was built around, but nothing was overwhelming and none of them felt like they were about to die any minute from the difficulty.
When they got to the final boss of the scenario Torric could immediately sense the ambush waiting in one corner of the room. His more enhanced senses easily pierced the ‘divine’ shield that had hidden them in the real version of this fight.
He quickly devised a new plan. Lily used a spell to put the boss to sleep, and at the same instance Torric was going to teleport into the middle of the group of ambushers to begin laying waste to them.
He started with the man who killed Meidron, slashing open his throat with an Abyssal Rake followed by Broken Moon Execution, killing him in 2 blows and immediately looting his body. The cursed dagger the fake killer had depositing into his inventory and thus keeping anyone from picking it up off of the dead man to use against him.
This fight went dramatically differently than the original. Rather than fresh off a boss fight they were fresh from a 5 hour rest and a hearty meal. And in Liam and Torric’s cases, with hearts full of murderous hatred. They slaughtered the effigies of the men and women who killed their beloved, mercilessly cutting down each one.
After they demolished the ambush Lily healed all their injuries and refreshed their stamina then drank a mana potion to refresh her mana pool. Only then did they trigger the boss, taking her down with the same clean efficiency as they had everyone else. When they looted the Champion’s Chest the dungeon dissolved and they suddenly found themselves in a large office facing Katseya, Meinorn, Senshia, a strange but serious looking human man and a devastatingly gorgeous fae woman with long black hair and vividly violet eyes.
Morrigan the Archfey. Queen of Avalon and the founder of the university.
“That was very well done, you three.” The queen praised them. “Few would face their fears while the wounds of the death of your third were so fresh upon your soul. I did not set the subject of your trial, the trial sets it for you. When we saw what you were to face we expected you to leave immediately. We did not expect you to grind experience.” She added the last wryly.
“I wasn't sure I’d make it when we first started, your majesty. Not that we couldn’t do it physically, but because my will would give out. But instead of it hurting more the deeper we went the more… healing? it was. Especially that final fight.”
“I’m glad you found the experience transforming rather than traumatizing. Now, I am, as you deduced, her majesty Morrigan the Archfey. With me is Prince Arthur Pendragon. He too came to me from another world. Sadly it destroyed itself before he could return to it, so he remains in Avalon forever more. His current hobby is running my school. He’ll be discussing enrollment and the like with you in a few moments. First we must deal with politics.”
She smiled at him, and Torric realized her canines were slightly pointier than normal teeth, but not as much as a beastkin.
“You are one of the Luminari, and one who has arrived rather explosively upon the political stage, especially for one so young. As your mother’s son you will be afforded the same respect and courtesies of visiting royalty. Upper tier royalty. Your lumin would traditionally be considered mid tier royalty, but due to his association with you has also been upgraded to upper tier.”
“There is no slavery in Avalon, but you have a good deal of popularity among the indentured servants and common folk here. A shrine has been set up for you within the Temple of Bahumet and offerings have been collected and stored for you since it was announced that you were visiting with the eye to staying. I highly recommend you stop by, and make it a habit of going there regularly when classes aren’t in session.”
“I am glad to hear there is no slavery here, your majesty. Though I must confess I am not entirely sure what an indentured servant is.” Torric replied. “I will be delighted to visit my mother’s temple.”
“I’ll explain indentured servitude later.” Liam promised quietly.
“As queen I have absolute authority over this realm, though I have several princes and princesses to help handle affairs, they make up my Royal Council. You’ll be introduced to the rest over time. Some of them are my biological children and others are not, like Arthur here. Below the royal household I have my nobility, which is sorted by tiers. Tier 1 is the highest rank of nobility, whereas Tier 5 is the lowest. All rankers are automatically at a minimum a Tier 5 depending on their grade, level, and ability. The higher your grade and level the higher your Tier. Your other lumin is not of noble, royal or divine blood, to my understanding.”
“No, your majesty. I am as common as mud on my world. Or as common as a ranker can be.” Lily replied honestly.
“You are C now?”
Lily coughed. “Um. So I have a Skill that lets me and my party double our experience gains as long as we are lower in level than the highest level person in our party. And that stacked with the double experience that is naturally part of the trial, so Liam and I were getting four times the experience per skill.”
“What Lily is trying to say is that one dungeon scenario pushed us all the way to our B grade evolution.” Liam explained succinctly.
“And my double experience put me up to sub Diamond but I haven’t done any of my rank ups yet, so I'm technically still sub Iron.” Torric added.
“Well, that is most unexpected. And impressive.” Morrigan replied, a twinkle in her eye. “Most Skills that increase experience gains can’t stack with other increases.”
“It was a Legendary Skill that I was granted when his eminence was reforging me into his lumin.” She replied meekly, ducking her head with a flush to her cheeks.”
“Well then as a B grade I shall make you a Tier 3 noble. As visiting royalty his eminence and his highness are automatically Tier 1. Upper Tier 1 at that. You’ll be a mid Tier 3.”
“Thank you, your majesty. That is most kind.” Lily replied, ducking her head again.
“Avalon is a jewel of many facets, your eminence,” Morrigan continued. “One wrong tilt, and it glitters too brightly in one direction, blinding all others. You are a new facet now. My nobles whisper, my priests shuffle their offerings, my servants already chant your name in back streets. The commons adore you, but the Houses will expect you to bow to tradition. The Academy will test you, and your mother’s temple will bind you to expectation as much as it uplifts you. Every kindness you give, every chain you break, every word you speak here will be remembered as politics, not merely sentiment.
There will be people here who will move against you, who will try to ally with you, who will try to marry you or get a child off of you. Because of the very high magic levels here on Avalon we have a very large population of outworlders who have grown too powerful to survive on their homeworlds who have immigrated here. We therefore respect all beliefs and walks of life here.
While open murder in the streets is frowned upon, duels to the death are perfectly permissible.
Avalon is not an island, no matter how it pretends. The Courts of the Fae, the Demon Principalities, and the Astral Empires all keep embassies here. Some will treat you as a prize to be courted. Others will see you as a weapon to be stolen.
In Avalon, like many other System worlds we ascribe to the Tyranny of Rank. I know Praetoria followed that path, though I am unsure if you know of the phrase.”
“Tyranny of Rank means might makes right. If I want to fuck with you within the boundaries of the laws of the world you’re on I can as long as I’m of higher grade than you, or otherwise somehow more powerful.” Torric answered.
“Correct. The only real law that the high grades have to follow is to not run around wantonly killing outside of official state sanctioned duels. Naturally the common folk and lesser Tiered nobility have more stringent rules. A a sub Diamond B you’ll have a latitude, and as a Luminari you’ll have even more, but this is not Solstheen or Praetoria. There are many fish bigger than you in this ocean and all of them would love to do nothing more than take a bite out of an unwary first lifer if given a chance. Just because you may have Rank over someone else they may very well be connected to someone greater than you and I will not interfere with lawful acts of retribution.”
“I understand your majesty. I’m pretty sure Senshia here is going to be my own bigger stick against high rankers.”
“Yes.” Senshia replied simply, taking a sip from her flask.
“That is the lay of Avalon’s land. Are you prepared to walk it?”
“Yes your majesty.”
“Grand. I have a kingdom to run, but we’ll be hosting a reception for you, her eminence, and your luminature in the coming days. My secretary will send the details along when they’ve been finalized.”
Morrigan rose, as did everyone else in the room as a matter of respect. They resumed their seats once she vanished through the use of some form of teleportation Skill or ability, leaving behind only the headmaster of the school.
“As her majesty said, I am Authur, the Dean of this Academy. Students come here from all over the multiverse, many of them scions from very powerful Houses, royal families, or are the descendants of gods and greater astral beings. As such we have a rule here. Your noble status gets left at the gates of the academy. On school grounds you are merely just another student. You are not his eminence, you are not a god. You are Celivor Vethari. And you are not his highness Liamarillus Veythari, prince of Solstheen.
You will not get special treatment by the staff and if you try to throw your rank around on campus then you’ll find yourself swiftly tossed out on your ear. The only thing that matters in this school are your rankings.
Everything you do increases or decreases your rank. Every failed test or exceptional exam. Every merit or demerit earned, every boss you kill, every duel you win or lose, all of them affect your rankings. Right now you’re on the low end of the middle of the rankings just because of your grades. As you progress within the school your ranking will go up or down. Every weekend we send out the new school rankings. Every 6 months we finalize rankings for the period. That is when you’ll get upgrades or downgrades depending on where your rank is.
Everyone on campus is between C and middle A. Once you hit middle A you graduate, no matter how long you’ve been here. Do not mistake the Academy for merely a school. It is my forge. I temper heirs, outworlders, and gods’ brats alike in its halls. Those who graduate become the web that binds Avalon’s power together. Fail here, and your legend dims no matter what else you accomplish.”
“If refusal of status is our number one rule, our second is that combat is not forbidden, but it is regulated. Duels are allowed, sanctioned, and even encouraged when properly declared. Ambushes, assassinations, and sabotage outside the dueling arenas are punishable by anything from demerits and punishment details to immediate expulsion… and in some cases, execution. If you want to settle a grudge, you do it where the rules demand. Are we clear?”
“Yes your highness.”
“I’m the dean here, you’ll call me Dean or Ser Pendragon. Do you understand?”
“Yes ser.”
“Third, all students contribute to Avalon. Your time here is not just study and battle. You will serve in public works, research projects, at clinics, or defense patrols of the capital. You will learn what it means to use your strength for others, or you will find yourself without the Academy’s protection when you leave these halls.”
“Fourth, knowledge is treated as sacred. Plagiarism, spell-theft, or sabotaging another’s research is a crime here as grave as striking a teacher. Knowledge is shared or earned, never stolen. Break that rule, and you will wish for exile.”
And last: the Academy itself tests you. The halls shift, the wards listen, and the old magics do not tolerate arrogance. Do not abuse the sanctuary of this place. Do not bring divine wars, extra dimensional threats, or parasitic bindings within its boundaries.”
Arthur let his gaze sweep across the group, settling for a moment on Torric. “You are strong already, far stronger than most who walk in as first-years. But strength is not enough. The Academy will strip you down to see what remains underneath. If you endure, you will emerge tempered. If you fail, you will not die, probably, but you may wish you had.”
“There are student clubs of many varieties, it is expected that our students join at least one, or one of the sports teams if not both. You’ll also need a party of at least four before you are allowed to dungeon delve, so you might want to get on that sooner rather than later. You are also welcome to join any of the guilds in the city. I’m sure they would be happy to take someone of your stature if you choose to go that route.”
“Two more things before you begin thinking this is all rules and no freedom.”
“First: Rankings are public. Every student, every teacher, every noble House with eyes on this Academy can read your placement on the lists. If you think to coast or to hide, understand you will be shamed in front of thousands. Conversely, climb high, and your name echoes across Avalon. Recognition comes with glory, but also with expectation, rivals, and enemies.”
“Second: infractions are also public. Duel too violently, abuse your power, cheat an exam, your peers will know. Reputation here is half the forge. You are not just honing strength, you are being hammered into a symbol. Decide what you want that symbol to be before someone else decides it for you.”
He gave the faintest smile, though it didn’t soften the steel in his eyes. “Clubs and guilds are where the real politics live. Sports teams build rivalries, societies hoard resources, research groups trade secrets for loyalty. Some will offer you camaraderie. Some will try to bind you in subtle chains. Choose carefully. Or don’t, failure to choose is also a choice.”
He let the silence stretch, the weight of Avalon’s system pressing in.
“Finally: the Academy remembers. The walls shift not by chance but by judgment. Fail too many times, treat knowledge as a toy, or insult the balance of Avalon and the Academy itself will close doors before you, sometimes literally. I have seen halls refuse to open for students unworthy of them. I have seen the library devour thieves. This place is alive, and it will know you. Respect it, or it will break you.”
Arthur’s gaze lingered on each of them in turn, settling again on Torric. “You are strong, yes. But here you are just another ember. The question is whether you blaze, or whether you’re snuffed out before your flame matters.”
“When it comes to classes you will be required to take one combat class, our basic dungeon diving class, and one utility or support class, minimum. Which classes are up to you, but once you join one you can’t drop it until the half year rerank. You can choose to take more classes than the minimum three but you cannot take less. Until you get to know the lay of the land I recommend you stick with three, four max.”
“I’m going to assume that you’ll want to do the dungeon class together, but what about the rest?”
“We all have healing abilities of some kind.” Torric said slowly. “I think we should join a healing class as our support class, and then we can split up for combat because we all fight really differently.”
“That is a sound plan. Liam you are a paladin who uses a sword and shield, so we can put you in our introductory martial melee class. And as you just entered the school all of you are going into the basic entry versions of your classes no matter what your starting skill level is. Part of that is so that we can get a solid idea of what you can do and thus where we can place you when the rankings change.”
“Lily, you are a caster, so you should go into our basic combat magic class. And as for you, Torric,”
“I’d like to do unarmed combat and aerial combat.” He interrupted Arthur. “I can handle 4 classes easily and I have very, very little aerial combat experience. If I have to pick between the two then I want aerial over unarmed combat.”
“We can make that happen. I’ll sign you up for all four classes, and your classes as well, Lily, Liam. If you take this list to the library you can pick up your required text books, and this form will get you your school uniforms. They must be worn to all classes, minus your combat classes where you’ll be in your armor. When you’re on your off time you can wear your regular clothes, and lastly this form will get you the necessary supplies for your classes, minus weapons, armor, or consumable items. Those you have to supply yourself.”
“You actually came in good time because the new semester starts in five days. You’ll have plenty of time to do your rank ups and explore a bit before classes begin. Plenty of other students have already arrived and will be arriving daily. The school cafeteria is not yet open for the school, so you’re on your own for food until the school term starts.”
“And before you bring it up, I am aware of your special dietary needs. You are not our only Luminari student. There is a separate building with small private kitchens for our Luminari students so that their food doesn’t get mixed up with anyone else’s. All the cooking supplies and implements are there and ready for you, you must supply the ingredients. And each kitchen is assigned to a single Luminari. There are five active kitchens right now, including yours.”
“If I were you, I’d split up to pick up your supplies then meet back at your dorm room. The campus gates will be closing soon, so if you leave you won’t be able to get back in until morning. And once school is in session there is a curfew of 10pm. If you aren’t back on school grounds before the gates close you’re not only locked out until morning but you will receive a demerit. We have six days of classes followed by three days of rest where your free time is entirely your own. Your schedules will vary by class, but classes in general start at 8 and end by 4. Between 4 and 10 your time is your own. This is your dorm assignment, you’ll all be sharing a room. Do you have any questions?”
Torric, Liam, and Lily shook their heads. “Good, then get going.”
“Torric, get your things in order then meet us at the guest quarters for the school and we will have a meal together before you all start your rank ups.” Senshia cut in before they could leave.
“Yes ma’am.” He replied. “But I want a bath first. A real one and not a cleansing spell.”
“That’s fine.”
They decided to go with the dean’s suggestion of splitting up to get their things then meet at their new dorm. Lily would go get their uniforms while Liam went to get their school supplies and Torric went to the library to collect all three of their classbooks.
Torric was halfway to the dorm room after accomplishing his errand when his psychic bond with Lily grew increasingly more agitated and she began silently calling him for help. He immediately used his Skill Shadow Step to reach her immediately. Technically the Skill was line of sight, but with his Celestial Predator’s Domain he could see everything in the city at will if he chose, normally he kept his senses to just everything within one mile of him that wasn’t actively warded against spying.
He found Lily with her back against a wall, three male students crowded around her, pinning her there with their auras.
“Come on, a cute new student like you, a C rank at that, you definitely can’t be walking around without a protector. You can be my woman and I’ll make sure no one touches you.”
“I’m sorry to say that position is filled.” Torric said coldly from behind them.
“Lily, come here.” In a flash of light she oozed between the three men who had pinned her and reappeared at his side.
“And who the fuck are you?” The man who’d been trying to make Lily ‘his’ snapped. “I don’t remember giving you permission to speak to me.”
“I don’t need your permission to speak to you when you are harassing my lumin.” He shot back.
The three strangers studied him, and he could feel their blatant Appraisal use upon him.
“B sub Iron, big deal.” The leader of the three scoffed. “I’m B sub Mithril. Give her to me and I’ll walk away. Tyranny of Rank and all that.”
“You would have to kill me first.” Torric answered coldly. “She is my lumin. Do you understand what that means?”
“She’s the servant of a Luminari. Big deal. Your status doesn’t mean shit here. You can find a new servant.”
“She has been imbued with a piece of my soul. You will not touch her.”
The stranger sighed heavily. “New students are the worst. They never understand the rules. I’m a higher rank so you give her to me. That simple. Or I duel you and then I take her and you lose face in front of the entire school before the term even starts.”
“Then we duel. Tomorrow. We are expected at a dinner with her eminence Senshia shortly. Unless you intend to have her come looking for us, wondering why we had been delayed? She’s my guardian. An S rank. She would be more than happy to step in then. Tyranny of Rank and all.”
“Tomorrow. Noon in the main arena. I won’t kill you, mostly because I don’t want the hassle of having a pissed off S ranker coming after me in revenge. It’ll be to surrender or unconsciousness. You lose I get the girl.”
“And if I win?”
The stranger snorted. “Not going to happen, chump. But if you do win then I’ll hand over one of my women.”
“Not interested.”
“Then what are you interested in then?”
“I win and I get to pick a Skill book from your family vaults for myself and my two lumin. Any Skill book.”
“Any skill book up to Epic rarity. I’m not giving over Legendaries or Mythics for some bitch, no matter how cute she is.”
“Deal.”
The stranger’s eyes trailed over Lily’s body as if mentally undressing her inch by inch. “Tomorrow you’ll be mine, little bitch. And you’ll regret not coming to heel when I first offered.”
Torric put a possessive arm around her waist, pulling her against him. “I’m going to gouge out your eyes tomorrow.” He promised the stranger. “Hopefully you have access to a healer who can replace them when they’re gone.”
“Tch.” The strange man sucked his teeth then spat on Torric’s boot. “We’ll see who needs healing tomorrow, little baby B.”
The three turned and walked away. Torric didn’t move until they turned the corner around a hallway and were out of sight.
“Can you really beat a Mithril?” Lily asked quietly. “You’re only a diamond.”
“I’m a diamond with Divine Shards and 15 Legends. I’ll be fine. You know I just realized I never asked his name. And he never got mine. I wonder who I’m going to blind tomorrow.”
They left for the dorm together, Torric’s hand possessively curled around Lily’s, and taking a different direction than the other three had left in.
His dorm room was significantly smaller than anywhere he’d stayed so far. It was made up of two bedrooms, and a small lounge between them for entertaining guests. One of the bedrooms was much smaller than the other and clearly was meant to house a servant rather than another student.
They explained to Liam what had happened while they unpacked in the main bedroom. Lily might not be his lover in the way Liam was but she was still part of his luminature. Her joining them was a given and had been ever since he had remade her with his power. There was no bathroom in the bedroom, but there were gender restricted bathrooms at either end of the hall.
He disappeared into the men’s bath with Liam while Lily headed over to the women’s. The bath was empty for the moment, and consisted of a changing area, a split off area where there were small basins to wash at, then one large soaking pool already full of steaming hot water. There were enchantments on the water that constantly purified it and had a minor regenerative effect.
They washed off in the basins getting handsier with each other than they had since Meidron died. “I want to fuck you tonight.” Torric whispered in his ear after breaking their heated kiss. “Delay your Evolution for me for a few hours? Pretty please?”
“No need to beg. I’d love to make love to you. It’s been so long that I feel like I will explode.”
“If only Senshia weren’t waiting for us, I’d fuck you now.”
“Later.” Liam promised hotly, nipping at Torric’s lower lip.
“Have I been neglecting you?” Torric asked gently, cupping his face.
“No. You’ve been grieving, and so have I. And we have been surrounded by other people fighting our way through the lattice so it isn’t exactly like we had a lot of privacy.”
“Fair. Let’s dry off and get dressed. I’m sure Lily is already waiting for us.”
She was, in fact, waiting for them when they arrived to collect her. When they reached the guest building that Senshia was staying in they explained to her and Meidron’s parents what had occurred with the unknown upper classman. Senshia was outraged that someone was attempting to steal Lily from him, and would have been immediately breaking in Arthur’s door to put a stop to the duel and censure the mystery student if she wasn’t absolutely convinced that Liam was going to beat the shit out of the man the following day.
Sure he was only a presumptive sub Diamond, but with his 9 Divine shards that made him the equivalent of a sub Celestial. And he’d be making more Divine shards tonight as he ranked up to Diamond. His stats would also be significantly higher for his supposed rank thanks to all his Devotion points.
They shared a nice meal together, the 6 of them, then Liam and Katseya escorted Lily to one of the campus Evolution chambers so that she could safely cross the threshold into B grade without anyone interfering. No one wanted to let her make the trek alone after what had already happened.
While the other two were with Lily, Torric sat down with Senshia and Meinorn to begin creating the patterns for the first two of many Divine shards. Going from Iron to Steel meant he would be able to make and incorporate 2 Divine shards instead of one like he had when he went from Bronze to Iron.
When he went to Silver he'd be able to make 4, then 8 at Gold and 16 at Diamond. He had decent odds of getting at least a half dozen new Divine Skills or Blessings doing 4 subgrades of ranking up in a row. And adding 20 new Divine Shards to the 9 he already had would shoot his power through the roof. Plus he had a ton of Skill Points and Free Points to spend after gaining almost 400 levels in a mere 5 days.
Katseya and Liam rejoined them as he finished making his second shard. Both were combinations of Life and Healing. Once he was ready he began the process of ranking up from Iron to Steel.
Neither shard gave him a divine power, but he hadn’t really expected it to. He had like a 2% chance of getting one, so not great odds. While he still had the patterns of Life and Healing fresh in his mind he began studying Meinorn’s pure Shard of Crafting. He made four Shards using that combination of three Domains. The odds were slightly better to get a power at a whopping 6% per shard, which made getting any powers at all pretty unlikely as well.
Thus when he got the notification that he had gained not one but two Crafting Domain abilities he was absolutely shocked, and so was everyone else. He’d been trying to get something related to alchemy or potion making, but what he’d gotten instead was better, way better.
Breath of the Builder – Your breath sanctifies stone and steel, turning raw matter into sacred resource.
- Living Matter (Passive): Wood sprouts green, stone softens into moldable clay, metal purifies of all dross when breathed upon.
- Healing Aura: Any material infused this way radiates low-level regeneration for those who touch it.
- Sanctified Works: Structures built from these materials resist corruption, erosion, and age.
- Limitation: Each infusion drains divine essence in the form of Devotion and cannot be undone once invoked. Excessive use risks overgrowth or unstable materials.
Soulforge Genesis – A forge not of fire, but of soul.
- Living Enchantment (Passive): Weapons, armor, or tools you forge inherit semi-living qualities: blades thirst for battle, shields mend themselves, garments resist decay.
- Life-Infusion: Each crafted object pulses with healing light, restoring vitality to allies who wield or wear them.
- Permanent Blessing: Creations last indefinitely, unlike temporary boons.
- Limitation: Every forging consumes a permanent sliver of your divine power in the form of Devotion, with the power sacrificed being equal to the power of the item forged.
He showed off his new abilities to the other four then quickly set about creating more Life-Healing-Crafting Shards, eager to see what else he could create. Out of the 8 he made, 3 resulted in new powers as well, one more Crafting ability and 2 Healing abilities.
Finally it came time to make the 16 shards for his final rank up. This time he studied Senshia’s pure Shard of Oblivion. He made a dozen shards of various combinations of War, Death, and Oblivion, using combinations of 2 of the 3 patterns, and then a few that combined all three. When he finished with his last Shard he opened his eyes to find that Senshia, Katseya, and Meinorn had all made him a Shard each, and then worked together to create a 4th Shard from all three of them, bringing his total number of Shards to absorb up to 20. The number of shards he already had, plus what he was about to absorb brought his chance up to getting new powers at 56% per shard. Hopefully he would get a bunch of Powers and Blessings out of the massive batch.
His hopes more than came true when he got a whopping 11 Powers and 2 Blessings. He showed off his new Status to the four others with him after spending all his points, letting them all marvel at his new upgrades. With the number of shards he had it made his effective grade SS sub Silver, rather than a B sub Diamond like his actual grade. That plus his ridiculously high Attributes thanks to his mountain of accumulated Devotion points since reaching B grade had just guaranteed that his duel tomorrow would swing in his favor.
After he finished ranking up to Diamond he and Liam disappeared back to their dorm room. They stripped quickly, climbing into bed together. Torric embraced his lover, tenderly kissing him, stroking his face, his body. Exploring it with the tentative tenderness as if he were discovering Liam’s body for the first time.
He didn’t even know he had started to cry until Liam pulled his face up and began wiping away his tears.
I can’t do it.” He sobbed. “I thought I was ready Liam. I’m so sorry. Being with you feels like I’m betraying him. His memory. It doesn’t feel like I should be allowed to be happy for even a moment while he is gone. I know he’ll be reborn, maybe has even been reborn now, but it still feels like a betrayal.”
Liam hugged Torric’s head to his chest, stroking his hair as he cried. “It’s okay, kitten.” He replied softly, using Senshia’s nickname for him over Meidron’s ‘little star’. “You don’t have to be ready. It hasn’t even been a full month in real time since he died. Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”
Torric’s tears bled into Liam’s skin, and the steady thrum of his heart beneath Torric’s ear was an anchor against the storm of grief and loss inside him. Every part of him yearned for this closeness, yet every kiss felt like stealing something from the dead.
“He was my brother in arms, and my lover, too,” Liam whispered, thumb brushing the wetness from Torric’s cheek. “I miss him every day. Being with you doesn’t erase him. It honors him. Because he loved you, and he’d want you to live, not wither in his shadow.”
Torric shook his head, clutching at Liam’s waist. “I don’t know how to stop feeling guilty.”
“Then don’t stop,” Liam murmured. “Carry the guilt. Carry him. But let me carry you too.”
Torric laid in his arms, crying, until he could no longer maintain the ragged emotions and he fell asleep. The normal nightmares did not come. Not this time. He didn’t dream of Meidron’s death, didn’t hear Meidron’s voice blaming him for what happened.
This time as he slept it almost felt like Meidron was there with him, holding him in bed and whispering how much he loved him and to stop being an idiot.
Chapter 21
Notes:
Major content warning for graphic violence and enucliation, and a severe emotional breakdown including suicidal ideation, descriptions of torture and child abuse, mentions of sexual assault.
Chapter Text
When they woke the next morning they went to check on Lily immediately after getting dressed. She was still actively going through her Evolution, her body covered in a swirling black, silver, and gold mist. A mist shot through with a rainbow of colored sparks exploding within it. The sparks were slowing, which meant the active portion of her transformation was winding down. She’d still be unconscious for another day or so after that while her body and soul recovered from the immense transformation process.
After checking on Lily they joined Senshia, Katseya, and Meinorn for breakfast, a late breakfast compared to what time they’d been eating together on the road. By the time they had sat down to eat it was half past 9.
Liam and Torric made their breakfast together, enjoying a moment of quiet intimacy and bonding. It also ensured that breakfast turned out 100% edible. Torric was not at all ready to be at the mercy of Liam’s unsupervised cooking, and especially not when he had a duel rapidly approaching.
He ate lightly, not wanting to be over full and sluggish when it came time for the fight. Katseya had done some sleuthing at some point and discovered that his duel was with Pelinor Yetvana, the 3rd son of one of the lesser kings in the Empire of Plox, which was about as mixed race as they came. Pelinor himself was a guardrium, which was an offshoot race of humanity that had heavily interbred with the guadra people over millenia on an isolated world long before Plox had discovered and conquered their world.
He was a fighting class, no active magic Skills or spells at all. He was however an enhancement specialist and was said to have exceptionally well developed Attributes for his grade and subgrade. There was a rumor that he even had a single composite shard, a gift from his father when he reached Mithril and the halfway point to A. However she had it on fairly good authority that Pelinor did not actually have a Divine Shard, but that he had been given a box of very very high grade physical Attribute boosting mana treasures.
He didn’t ask how she got her information, but considering she’d done it overnight and was a succubus he suspected she either Charmed the information out of someone or maybe several someones, or she had actively seduced them and gotten the info over post coital pillow talk. Either way he was glad for the knowledge, even if he didn’t really want to know how she’d acquired it.
Pelinor was going to have a rude awakening when he came up against Torric’s suppression abilities. He was so used to being one of the physically stronger students at the school that Torric suspected he would lose his shit to find that his Attributes had been suppressed AND that Torric was significantly stronger than him.
They relaxed in Senshia’s quarters until a half hour before the duel was to take place then made their way to the arena where the duel was to take place. Torric was shocked to find that the stadium was almost ¾ full.
“Why are there so many people here?” He asked Senshia quietly as he observed the mass of people.
“Pelinor is dueling the Shackled God for possession of one of his Lumin the day after he arrived. The moment that knowledge went public the Academy was forced to open the doors to the public. Duels between royals always draw a lot of attention, even if both royals were foreign.” Katseya answered in place of his guardian. “It just means that Pelinor is going to be embarrassed in front of a lot of very powerful people. He’s gone entirely undefeated since he reached sub Diamond.
When there was five minutes before the duel was to start he walked onto the arena floor. Pelinor did not look happy to see him judging by the mask of sullen fury on his face, his jaw clenched so tight Torric could hear the grinding of his teeth
“Because of you, I have been reprimanded by my ancestors. Now, I will make you pay twice over for the inconvenience.” He told Torric the moment he approached. “Apparently stealing a lumin from one of you pricks is a major no no. So now when I beat your ass you’re going to have to purchase me 2 indentured servants to make up for the fact that you pissed me off twice.”
“In that case, after I rip your eyes out with my claws I’ll Curse the wound to never be healed. I hope you have some perception Skills that don’t rely on sight.”
“You are so dead.” Pelinor growled.
“And you are deluded. Are you ready to do this?”
“Two minutes to cast your Buffs and set your auras. Then we begin.”
“Deal.”
Pelinor had no active magic, so Torric would bring to bear his suppression auras: Aura of Silence and Moon Eclipse Decree. Combined with his passive Weight of the Moon, Pelinor would be fighting under the pressure of three suppressions.
Torric's next choice was Requital Aura. It was perfect against a physically focused opponent like Pelinor. As a retaliation aura it worked based on the damage done by the strike, not the damage Torric's body received, which meant it would punish Pelinor's weapon and body even if Torric's Voidlit Skin negated all of the damage.
For his final two active auras, he chose to focus on his own counter-attacking prowess. Crescent Fury Aura would reduce his cooldowns with each successful strike, a perfect fit for a brawl while Divine Punisher’s Aura would increase the effectiveness of his retaliation skills, compounding every retaliatory attack he landed with the last.
Finally, he called on his buffs: Moonfang Rend and Claws of the Eclipse. With his preparations complete, he settled into a relaxed stance and indicated to the referee that he was ready..
The gong thundered, and Pelinor surged forward like a war god in miniature, his battle axe wreathed in enhancement auras. His speed was respectable… by B-grade standards. Muscles bulged, veins glowing faintly as his buffs layered atop his natural strength. To anyone else, he was terrifying. To Torric, he may as well have been a charging ox.
The moment Pelinor crossed into range, the arena shifted. Weight of the Moon dragged at his limbs, smothering his speed until every step looked like he was wading through tar. Moon Eclipse Decree pressed down harder, grinding away at his stats, smothering his power in twilight. Aura of Silence swallowed the thunder of his voice, strangling any attempt to roar his buffs higher. The audience felt it too, an oppressive hush fell over the stands, many clasping their throats without knowing why.
The first strike came down, an overhead cleave that should have split Torric from crown to groin. It landed, but the attack may as well have been a wet paper sword landing on diamondsteel for all the effect it had. Voidlit Skin absorbed it, and then Requital Aura answered with a roar. Power cracked outward, smashing Pelinor back with his own strength. Flesh split, ribs shuddered, blood burst from his chest in a spray that drew gasps from the gallery.
“He’s… reflecting it?” one noblewoman whispered, her jeweled hands clutching her fan tight enough to bend it.
Pelinor snarled through the wound, regenerating through sheer vitality. “You think tricks will-”
Torric moved faster than the other man could see, faster than most of the spectators could see, aside from those who had Perception Skills or some other way of slowing down his movement with Skills or abilities. Claws of the Eclipse glimmered, and then black-lit arcs carved through Pelinor’s body. Each swipe left wounds that bled smoke instead of blood, bypassing every enhancement he had layered. Pelinor staggered, his axe sweeping wildly, more desperate than dangerous.
The nobles murmured, shocked, as Torric’s movements only sharpened and grew faster. Crescent Fury Aura spun hotter, his counter attacks arriving almost before Pelinor swung. Divine Punisher’s Aura compounded every retaliation until Pelinor’s axe seemed cursed to punish its wielder more than its enemy. His hands split open, blood running down the haft, face drenched in sweat.
“Impossible,” hissed a Tier-2 lord in the stands. “That’s not a B grade. That’s… that’s something else.”
Pelinor tried for one last stand. He bellowed wordlessly, enhancement light blazing across his frame as he swung a killing blow in a final, desperate arc. “My ancestors are watching! I won’t fall to-”
Torric blurred forward. One clawed hand caught the axe haft and ripped it free, tossing it aside like kindling. His other hand clamped onto Pelinor’s face, claws punched through flesh and socket. With one savage wrench, both eyes tore free in his grip.
The crowd gasped as one. Some nobles leapt to their feet, faces pale, while the commoners roared with shock and savage glee at the unexpected extra burst of violence.
Pelinor shrieked, a raw, animal howl, collapsing to his knees as Torric raised the still-pulsing orbs. For a heartbeat, he held them aloft. And then, with deliberate contempt, he crushed them to pulp, ichor and vitreous fluid running down his wrist.
The arena went silent, save for Pelinor’s ragged sobbing.
Torric bent, shoving two fingers into the empty sockets. Voidfire flared, branding the Curse of the Eternal Eclipse into the wounds. Pelinor convulsed, the curse burning into his soul, searing away any hope of natural healing. Only true Divine intervention could restore him now. Or Torric removing the curse willingly, which would absolutely not happen.
“Next time,” Torric said coldly, his voice carrying clearly through the silence, “don’t wager with other people’s lives when you don’t know who you’re fucking with.”
He released Pelinor, who collapsed in the sand, screaming for healers who could not help him. Nobles whispered furiously to one another, courtiers pale with the realization that Pelinor’s undefeated record had ended not with a duel, but with a dissection.
Torric turned his back on the ruin he had made, walking to the edge of the arena without so much as a glance over his shoulder. Liam was waiting. Torric pulled him close and kissed him deeply, deliberately, in front of everyone.
He returned to the green room that he had been using before the duel had taken place to find Morrigan, Arthur, Senshia, Katseya, Meinorn, and an unknown man and woman waiting for him. The man and woman had auras that were even stronger than S rank Senshia, though not quite on par with the SS queen.
“That was a very impressive fight, Torric.” Morrigan complimented him. “Your abilities appear to be far, far greater in strength than your grade should be at. It will be quite interesting to see your start of term power assessment. May I introduce Lady Lenza Yetvana and Lord Piq Yetvana. They are the elders responsible for the young man that you so handily beat.”
“You must forgive our grandson for his trespass against you in attempting to confiscate your lumin.” Lenza said immediately. “He was mistakenly under the impression that a lumin is just a fancier version of a servant for a Luminari.”
“I tried to explain to him that Lily carried a piece of my soul and he would never get her. He didn’t seem to care, so no, I do not feel inclined to forgive him for his trespass.”
“Will you at least lessen the curse you placed upon him?” Piq asked. “We have gifts above and beyond the promised reward for winning the duel, if it would assuage your anger.”
“I will not. I told him yesterday I would take his eyes. Today on the sands he informed me that he would force me to purchase him two indentured servants to make up for the fact that he could not take Lily from me, and in retribution for you disciplining him. I may not have heard of indentured servitude before yesterday, but I am very much aware of what it is now. Given my history, and the appellation that I was given by my devotees I am sure you can begin to imagine how absolutely infuriating such a demand would be to me.”
Senshia looked at him sharply before turning hate filled eyes upon the two rankers in front of her.. “Your grandson just tried to force my ward to act against his own personal Legends and newly emerging personal divinities. Do you know the kind of magical harm that could have been done to him if he had purchased a slave for another? For he truly considers indentured servitude to be slavery by another name.”
The two SS ranks paled at Senshia’s words, while anger flickered across Morrigan and Arthur’s faces so fast that if Torric hadn’t been looking directly at them and had any weaker Perception he never would have seen it.
“Was Pelinor unaware of just what his eminence’s personal Vows are? Did he not know that he was dealing with the newly born Shackled God?” Morrigan asked, her voice deadly quiet.
“He knew.” Lenza replied grimly. “We told him to come up with a new reward if he won, but did not expect that he would select….that as his prize. We truly did not know he would try to force a Luminari to act against their Legends and Vows.”
“Are you, at the very least, aware, of what would have happened if his eminence was forced to break his Vows because your grandson didn’t know how to keep his grubby little hands to himself? Both to him and this planet and probably yours as well?” Morrigan asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Her tone was pleasant, conversational even. The cold rage in her eyes, however, told another story.
The silence that followed Morrigan’s words was suffocating. Even the wards lining the green room seemed to pulse, as if the Academy itself was holding its breath.
Lenza and Piq bowed their heads slightly, their auras dimming, restrained. Neither dared meet Morrigan’s eyes.
“It would have been… catastrophic,” Arthur said, breaking the silence at last. His tone was iron, his knightly presence barely leashed beneath the civilized veneer. “The Legends of a god are not ornamental. They are the scaffolding upon which his divinity rests. As you well know, being you are not far from true Divinity yourselves. To force the Shackled God to act against his Vows is to invite a divine rupture. The best case scenario, not that it would be best at all, of such a rupture would be his eminence’s permanent maiming, which would have undoubtedly drawn his mother’s ire upon us all.
I believe you know who his eminence’s mother is? Bahumet, the Celestine of Obliviation, who destroyed 45 planets, which made up ⅓ of the demonic empire because 3 misguided succubi decided to drug and rape her child to get pregnant with his child? Or the now lost planet of Praetoria and their entire pantheon of gods who she not only obliterated but then fed their souls and divinity to her son? Her youngest son who was kidnapped at birth by parties unknown and then enslaved by the peoples of said dead planet at the tender age of 10 before said gods killed his lumin and thus a piece of his soul while trying to kill him?”
Lenza swallowed hard while beads of perspiration formed across Piq’s forehead.
“The worst case scenario is that the backlash of the rupture would have destroyed all of Avalon and then his mother absolutely would go on the rampage across the multiverse. Starting with your planets.” Arthur continued grimly, anger laced through his voice.
“He could have crippled Torric permanently. To break a Legend so newly forged would have shattered his soul in ways that no healer or divine blessings could ever mend. Your boy’s arrogance very nearly endangered not just my ward, but this entire realm and my life as well, for our mother would take her anger at his maiming out on me as well as all of you.” Senshia added, rage hot in her voice.
Torric said nothing, but his claws flexed against his thighs, and the room seemed to darken with the echo of his aura.
Piq swallowed hard, his composure faltering. “We did not… we did not realize the depth of consequence. Pelinor is reckless, but-”
“No,” Morrigan cut him off, voice velvet over steel. “Do not excuse him. You are his elders. You have ruled your House for millenia. You are supposed to guide your bloodline, not let it walk blindly into abyssal fire.”
Her violet eyes slid to Torric then, softening just a fraction. “His eminence has already rendered judgment. The curse will remain. That is final. And you, personally, will perform atonement for your grandson’s behavior. Or you will not leave Avalon alive.”
“Yes, of course, your majesty.” Piq replied instantly. “May we have a few days to prepare proper atonement? If her eminence would be willing to guide us in compiling what we need to make this right between us we would be most appreciative.”
“I will guide you.” Senshia agreed. “But it is not just to Torric you must atone. You must atone to me and our mother as well, for he transgressed upon all of us. You will have three days to come up with a list of items to offer proper atonement for all three of us, and one month to get it here. If the full atonement is even one minute late I will be leading Torric in the ritual to contact our mother to personally inform her of the events of the past 24 hours in his own words.”
The two nobles in front of him turned green. Literally. He didn’t know people could turn colors that they didn’t originally start as. “Of course, eminence. We have already brought the list of the Skill books in our personal library, as that was the price of the duel. Naturally we will be adding our Legendary and Mythic Skill books as well. Select any books you like from the list. As many as you like. We’ll provide you, his guardian, the full list of our entire library of Skill books for our House before night falls so that you may select whatever books from among our stacks you desire.”
“Pelinor Yetvana, as of today, is no longer a student in my Academy.” Morrigan announced coldly. “He will remain on Avalon until atonement has been made and accepted. As will all members of your House currently residing on my world. If it is not made and accepted then we will kill him, and the two of you and all of the rest of your House who currently reside here. Once proper atonement has been made and accepted your entire House will leave, and your House will be banned from Avalon until his eminence reaches S grade.”
“Of course your majesty. Your eminences.” Lenza bowed low to first the queen, then Senshia, then Torric in turn, Piq copying her less than a second later.
“Collect your brat and vacate my school at once. Then you and I will be having our own private meeting to discuss exactly how you will apologize to me for his transgressions.” The queen commanded.
The two bowed once again, visibly trembling as they did so, then fled the room as swiftly as possible without being rude.
“Torric, your eminence. What must I do to make things right between us?” Morrigan asked, turning to him. “You were nearly crippled not even a full day after arriving in Avalon and for an outrageous reason.”
“I mean, it isn’t really your fault that that Pelinor guy is a major asshole.” Torric began before Senshia shushed him.
“You may make atonement by providing a Runemark of Wayfarer’s Refuge.” His guardian replied. “The highest rarity that you can acquire within one month.”
“You will have it. I swear this upon my throne.”
“Good, because I’d be really annoyed if I have to take over your planet.” Senshia turned her attention to Torric, and the hitherto silent Liam. “The adults need to have a more in depth discussion. Why don’t the two of you go explore the capital? We’ll come find you when our conversation is over. I am certain her majesty will be able to recommend an excellent restaurant that we can dine at for dinner and one meal made from undevoted food won’t harm you. I doubt anyone would be stupid enough to try to poison you after the spectacle you just put on.”
“Uh…sure.” Torric replied distractedly. “I should go to the temple to pick up my offerings of devotion and give out some Blessings anyway.”
Senshia nodded dismissively. “Don’t forget to pick up some of your guards before you leave campus.” She added as they turned to leave. “I don’t expect any idiocy to occur so soon after your duel but it seems Avalon abounds with fools these days.”
Liam stopped him when they got a few hundred feet from the door. The hallway around them was absolutely empty.
“You’re upset.” His voice was gentle. They both knew that Liam could sense his boiling emotions through their soul bond. “What has upset you?”
“I’ve never truly fought a person before,” Torric confessed, his voice tight. “Not one who wasn’t trying to kill me, not like this. It was just… a petty fight, over some idiot who wanted a girl who didn’t want him. But I… I crippled him, Liam. Because I could. Because I was so damn angry at what he tried to do to Lily, and what he was trying to do to me. Pelinor will never see again, not unless he finds a god willing to heal him, and I doubt that’s happening any time soon.”
“So you are upset that you only took his eyes and did not enact more vengeance upon him? I am certain we could go back and request that you be allowed to further maim him. Her majesty and her eminence would undoubtedly immediately agree.”
“I don’t want to maim him more!” Torric exclaimed, recoiling in horror.
“Oh,” Liam said, his expression softening as he caught Torric’s genuine distress. “Then what, exactly, is upsetting you?”
“Because I worry that by maiming and cursing him just because I was mad is the first step down a very slippery slope that could lead to me treating people just like Pelinor tried to treat me and Lily. Only I will have the power to back up my bark, unlike him.”
“That’s a stupid thing to worry about. You would never be able to treat someone like that, or at least not someone who doesn’t deserve it. Your own Legends and Vows will prevent it. Sure they’re still new and you could change them with enough work, but the last person who we need to worry about becoming a tyrannical dictator is the Shackled God. The belief of your Devotees could never let you become a true monster.”
“But-”
“Tyranny of Rank. You get to do what you want because you are powerful. But your own Vows will keep you from becoming a true tyrant. Most people will hear what Pelinor did to you, tried to do to you, and will believe that you cursing his sight was a fairly merciful response. If I were in your place I definitely wouldn’t have stopped with just his eyes. I’d have taken his hands and cock too. At a minimum.”
“But then I am just perpetrating the same violence on others that was perpetrated on me. Worse even, I was rarely beaten and certainly never maimed.”
“Torric, I say this with all the love in my heart. You were maimed. Maybe not your body, but your soul. Being cut off from your magic, from the System. Someone out there tried to kill you, and if not kill you then make sure you had the most miserable existence known to the multiverse and then die a slow painful early death. They did this when you were a literal baby in every sense of the word.
What happened to you was so abhorrent to all anyone who knows the truth of what happened that we are shocked you aren’t a giant bleeding psychic wound of trauma. You think its normal because that is what those people told you your entire life.
And yet somehow despite growing up under a curse that has made billions of people choose willing death rather than exist under its pain, despite being told you were worthless, misborn, convinced your only value was in being a bed slave you came out of it the most beautiful, kind, and gentle man I have had the privilege to know. You genuinely care about the well being of people who I would not have looked twice at before I met you. Come on, this isn't a conversation in a school hallway, and I honestly shouldn't be the one doing it, but since no one else is willing to, I guess I have to.”
Torric let Liam lead him back to their shared room, anxiety and dread churning in his stomach. He had the feeling he was not going to like the conversation that they were about to have, but he also didn’t know why he had that feeling.
They went straight for the bed, still unmade from their waking.
“As much as I would love to hold you during this, I need you to be able to see my face when I talk to you.” Liam said seriously.
“First I want to give you some context. As a mortal I was born without the System. Most rankers are. We have the pathways to acquire it, or at least most of us do, but we aren’t born to it. Our bodies can’t even handle the energy to gain it until we’re well into puberty. Once you have the System, have access to that part of you, it's like you have finally found the missing piece of your soul that you didn’t know what was missing to begin with.
People who permanently lose access to the System after gaining it are at a huge risk of killing themselves. And a lot of people believe it is the kinder thing to do to let them. It is almost only ever done as a form of punishment any more. And many worlds are outlawing the practice as too barbaric for civilized society. That's how people who are not native to the System feel about being cut off from it. A fate worse than death.”
“I managed it, though.”
“You never knew a state where you weren’t cursed. You never knew the System but you were connected to it. I’ve had System suppression training, all royals do. It is an agony that will forever haunt me. And that was just training. You lived it. I cannot imagine how painful that was. Not just physically, but soul deep pain.”
“You become inured to it.” Torric replied distantly, staring at the wall past Liam’s head, not wanting to think back of his time as a child on Praetoria.
“Hey, eyes here. You can’t just space out because you don't want to feel your feelings.” Liam told him, putting one hand on either side of his head to force him back into eye contact. “Every time people bring up Praetoria you gloss it over and change the topic. The same with your curse.”
“I talk about being cursed all the time.”
“No, you say you were cursed and then move on. You are very very good about talking about your curse without actually talking about it. Always framing it as if it was long ago and already forgotten. Torric, it hasn't even been 6 months. As many times as you have told people you were cursed, today is the first time since meeting you that I have ever heard you even mention how it felt. And that was just to say that you get used to the pain.”
“It was normal for me though.”
“"But it shouldn't have been!" Liam's voice cracked, and he choked back an angry sob. "Someone took a baby, not even three days old, and stole you. I asked Senshia once… how no one knew you were missing. They knew. And they thought you dead.That's why they didn’t look for you. If anyone had ever realized where you were, what you were suffering under, every celestial tiger in the multiverse would have shown up, armies in tow, to lay waste to that miserable planet.”
“They knew-" Liam’s voice broke again, then he continued, his voice laced with burning fury, "Those Praetorian bastards knew what that curse would have felt like. They had the System. They knew, and they chose to leave you in that state anyway.
You were a baby! I swear, if I’d known and been of age, I would have gone to war with them. You survived for twenty-six years what has driven stronger, more powerful men and women to suicide in months. They made a baby exist in a state of spiritual torture so horrific it drives people insane, so brutal it’s been outlawed on thousands of worlds… and then they made you think it was normal, and that you were just weak."
“It wasn’t that bad-” Torric tried to protest, the words sounding hollow even to himself.
“Torric. Stop it. You are lying to me and yourself and I won’t let it keep going. It was bad. Just because you got used to sitting in the boiling bathwater doesn’t mean it wasn’t burning your skin off.”
“Why do we have to even talk about this? It's in the past! I’m free. I have my magic, I'm halfway to A rank in under 6 months Liam! I’m fine.”
“You are not fine. In that same period of time you were drugged and sexually assaulted by succubi, your soul was suppressed by a cosmic being far beyond both our comprehension while that same being took your very real physical body on a genocidal rampage across the multiverse resulting in 46 worlds being destroyed and literally pulled through your body and into your soul. While at the same time learning how to create your first 2 lumin and keeping us from dying.
Then we had to run a death gauntlet set up specifically to kill you by vengeful gods, managed to survive it, only to watch assassins sent by those same gods kill the very same lover that you had spent months protecting inside your soul die in front of you, taking a killing curse designed specifically to kill you.”
Liam’s voice gentled and he stroked Torric’s cheeks with his thumbs as he cupped his face. “Torric, baby, I love you, but you are not fine. You’re in denial. You have been running around treating everything like it has been a grand adventure, but you cry every night in your sleep. You can barely stand to kiss me let alone do anything else out of guilt over Mei’s death. And then despite everything you've been through,when you lash out the tiniest bit you over a very valid provocation you immediately felt like you were abusive.
You aren’t a slave any more baby, where you aren’t allowed to have emotion. And the multiverse is a violent brutal place. You were insulated from the need to deal with the true realities of the multiverse because of your lack of status. If anyone else were in your place and Pelinor did what he did they would have killed him just for asking for Lily. You let it go to a duel. A duel where you let him off very lightly. It is obvious that you have power but here in this world where you are his eminence Celivor Veythari the mercy that makes you so beautiful as Torric is a fatal weakness for Celivor.
These people are predators Torric, and right now you are a very tasty kitty far from home. You have spent so much time focusing on your first two Vows you forgot your third.”
“Punish those in power who abuse the people whose lives have been entrusted into their care.”
“Can you say you did a very good job living up to that Vow today?”
Torric’s eyes dropped down in shame. “No.”
“I know you are worried about becoming a monster, Torric, but you’re so afraid of becoming what you want to fight against that you aren’t fighting at all. You need to be harder. More merciless. More forceful or Avalon is going to eat you alive and us with you. You can survive our deaths, but we can’t survive yours, if you remember. Trust that we can pull you back from the edge you are so afraid of falling over. But if you keep damming everything up you are going to explode. Messily and that is going to get a lot of innocent people killed.”
“We still don’t know who took you or why. But you are a walking target. Someone or something wanted you dead or buried so deep in the middle of nowhere that you would never be found. Only you were. There is a larger plot out there that we don’t know the shape of let alone the players. I want you to see a mind healer while we’re on Avalon. And a soul worker too. Because if you can't get your shit together before whoever wants you dead shows back up then their next attempt might succeed.”
“Why? Why did any of this happen to me?”
“I don’t know, baby. But someone or several someones went to considerable lengths to remove you from the picture before you could grow into your power. Now that they have failed they will try again. And you need to have a conversation with Senshia about the nature of not just the Luminari, but of the tigers. Senshia is not just your guardian. She is your sister. She was the closest to you in age of all your siblings. Right now you are ignorant as fuck about so much for reasons not your fault but that has to change. And fast, or Mei won’t be the only one to die before this is done.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” Torric cried.
“I’m not saying any of this to hurt you, kitten. But someone needed to talk to you. It should have been Senshia, and you still need to talk to her. You can’t keep going like you are, pretending everything is fine while your insides are shredded and bleeding.”
“I can’t Liam. If i stop pretending everything is fine then I don’t know what to do. What I’m going to do.”
He dropped the shields that had been masking his most innermost feelings. Drew him into the swirling mass of despair that made up his inner self. The loathing and self hatred. How much he wanted to die. How much he missed Meidron, the guilt he felt over his death. The guilt that existed for the 46 worlds that were killed in his name even though he never asked for it.
The ugly emotions spilled out over them as Torric wept, no, wept wasn’t the right word. He sobbed and raged at once, the emotions so thick they felt like he was going to rip apart. His body shook. The room shook.
Through it all, the raging maelstrom of despair, recrimination, and self hatred Liam held him, stroking his hair while he wept soul wrenching sobs of heartbreak.
When his emotions finally began to calm, his body and soul too exhausted to maintain the storm, it was to find that Lily, Senshia, Katseya and Meinorn were all there with him, surrounding him with their projected auras of love and comfort.
“Oh my kitten” Liam said sorrowfully, kissing the top of his head. “You don’t need to carry this burden alone.”
“I was afraid if I showed you how broken I am on the inside that you would hate me. Abandon me. I’m so weak and broken. Why would anyone want me?”
“Oh my love. You are far from weak. You are the strongest man I've ever met.” Liam told him, kissing the tears from his cheeks.
Katseya’s calm steadying presence as the mother he’d never had but wanted embraced him, while Lily’s warmth countered his guilt. Senshia’s strength, the ancient wellspring of kin and family swirling around him. Meinorn’s own strength, propping him up. And Liam, Liam’s unwavering support. THey filled him up, gently driving back the darkness of his soul.
HIs sobs slowly turned to silent tears, and wiped of emotion he fell asleep in Liam’s arms. Again he dreamed of Meidron’s arms wrapping him up, holding him even as he despaired in his dreams.
Chapter 22
Notes:
M/M sex. And a surprise! I planned on doing something along these lines since that happened, for reasons. I'm vaguely worried yall will be upset by the surprise. I'm not sure how many of you figured out that the thing that happened was going to happen because I did leave some hints.
Chapter Text
Torric shut his eyes and let himself drown in it. The weight at his waist, the nose at his nape, the old citrus-and-smoke scent that lived in the cracks of his heart. Too real. Too real.
A breath ghosted against his skin.
No breath.
He jerked upright. The man in their bed grinned with Meidron’s mouth.
Torric’s magic detonated. The imposter hit the far wall, the plaster cracking. “YOU DARE WEAR THAT FACE?”
The fake Meidron sat up. “Ow. Little star, check your magic and our connection and know the truth.”
Awoken and alarmed by first Torric’s sudden outburst, then the reason for it, Liam and Lily stared at the imposter against the wall, and felt Torric vibrating with rage next to them. Liam was in between bed and the imposter in an instant, steel in his stance. Lily slid off the mattress, palms raised, her aura pushing calm. Torric’s power scoured the man, burning through flesh, through the bright facsimile of life, until it struck the quiet where a heartbeat should be, and beneath that the cool, black-silver thread braided into Torric’s own soul.
Not a soul. A spirit. But the touch of that spirit, the shape of the soul within…
Torric crossed the room in a blur and slammed into him, kissing, grabbing, clinging.
“How-”
“What-”
“Impossible.”
He couldn’t get full sentences out, he was too busy wrapping himself around the man in front of him.
Senshia burst into the room, followed by Katseya and Meinorn. They came in prepared for a fight but froze in confusion at the sight of Torric covering a man with kisses who they all clearly knew was dead.
“Stop, stop.” Meidron laughed. “I’ll explain but you need to stop kissing me, for the moment at least.”
They all gathered in the living room portion of the apartment, with Torric curled up in Meidron’s lap, face buried against his neck, inhaling his intoxicating scent. It was changed, ever so slightly, but it was still unmistakably Meidron.
“I don’t understand, son. You died.” Meinorn said with a frown. “But you’re clearly not an impostor, considering Torric’s reaction.”
“I did die. The beast mother collected my soul so it could be passed on. She told me that she owed me a favor after I died for her son. She can’t bring people back from the dead, not in Oblivion’s wheelhouse, you know? But she could ensure that I reincarnated immediately and that she would guide me back to you when I came of age. Or she said I could become your soul bonded spirit familiar. It’s as close to being a lumin again as I could get, but now if I ‘die’ I just go back into the spirit world and wait for you to resummon me or resurrect me. I naturally picked the more immediate option. I knew how much you’d need me.”
He stroked Torric’s cheek. Torric shivered; the touch was gentle, intimate.
“But I was pretty messed up from that soul curse. I had to spend some time being healed, then she snuck me into your rank up to B class. I still needed recovery time, so that summon Skill was locked until I had finished. I broke the seal to come back a few days early after I felt you break down last night. I couldn’t leave you in that state.” Meidron stroked Torric’s cheek gently.
“She said you were dead.”
“I was. She also said that I had moved on to where I belonged. Which I had, you I moved into your soul. Where I belonged. Not gonna lie, little star. Your soul is a wreck.”
“Yeah, well, I haven’t exactly had a great time of it.”
Meidron laughed. “That’s an understatement. And Liam is right. You need to see a mind healer and a soul worker. Regularly and the sooner the better.”
“Anything. I’ll do anything you want.” Torric snuggled against him, if he got any closer to him he’d actually be inside Meidron’s skin.
“Lily, you work with spirits. Is this possible?” Katseya asked. “If he is being tricked…”
“It is possible.” She answered. “Incredibly rare, but possible. Especially if a god is involved.”
Lily’s eyes went distant. She brushed Meidron’s sternum with two fingers, whispered, “Name.”
“Meidron Veythari,” he answered, and her fingers sparked with cold blue.
She nodded. “Spirit-sign matches his soul-sign. You can’t counterfeit that. Not to a shaman. Not at my grade. That is Meidron. I’ve met him before and his spirit signature is identical to his old soul signature.
She hesitated. “What he did… he is forever a spirit now. Outside the cycle of reincarnation. If Torric dies he’ll return to the spirit world until someone else summons him to make a familiar contract with him.”
“Good thing I’m never dying.” Torric replied vehemently.
“That is no guarantee.” Meidron said gently. “As I am proof of.”
“So are my soul bonded familiar?” Torric asked.
“Yes. There’s different kinds of familiar spirits. Contracted spirits, tamed spirits, enslaved, bonded, and soul bonded.” Meidron answered. “The first three can turn on you if you treat them bad enough. The last two are far more powerful and will never betray you. Bonded familiars can die though, with the right magic. Soul bonded can’t unless someone severs our bond or you die. And the mother made our bond unbreakable unless done by another celestine or equivalent power level.”
“I’m really starting to warm up to my mysterious mother. She gives me the best gifts.”
“Our other siblings have a new name for you.” Senshia offered. “Mother’s favorite son. She hasn’t acted so much in any of our lives so young in recent memory. Of course, you came back from the dead as far as everyone is concerned, so even having not met you you’re everyone's favorite little brother right now. This was going to be a conversation to be had once you were settled in, but someone decided we weren’t acting fast enough.”
Senshia glared at Liam, who glared straight back from his posting next to Meidron and Torric. He wasn’t leaning against them, but sitting forward like a shield against the three upper ranks across from them.
Katseya’s eyes hadn’t left Meidron, though Torric hadn’t yet let him go enough to let her hug him yet. No one had even suggested trying to pull them apart. Meidron had had to literally carry him to the living room because Torric hadn’t wanted to let him go.
Torric did plan on eventually stopping monopolizing her son, they had bonded over their shared grief over their travels, but right now he was going to be entirely selfish.
“My moonstar, what Liam told you last night was true, start to finish. Though I really wish he would have waited a few days.”
“Don’t we all.” Senshia muttered.
“The milk is spilled, there’s no use harping over it any longer.” Torric snapped. “I’ll talk to the healers. But I have my Mei back. Why can’t we focus on that?”
“This isn’t about you getting mental help before you do something permanent. The someone wants you dead is the conversation we need to have.” Senshia replied
“Celestines have roles, and hierarchies and their own politics. Way way beyond our level. Bahumet is Oblivion. The end of all things. But there is also Creation, the beginning of all things. Life. Death. And so on. There are 13 celestines we know the names of, but far more than that. Until they reveal themselves or are discovered our parents can’t speak of them. Its one of the Deep Laws.” She continued.
“We as Luminari are their agents in the multiverse. We get one per millennium. And they need us. Every one of us, to climb the Tower as high as possible as fast as possible. I’ll explain more about that when Meidron’s parents aren’t here. Those are our secrets.”
“We all have family secrets.” Katseya acknowledged. “We have no offense that you don’t want to discuss yours in front of the brand new in-laws. We wouldn’t.”
“What we can talk about is that someone is moving against us. We don’t know who yet, but there are a few celestines we are constantly at war with.”
“Creation?” Torric guessed.
“No, actually that’s her sister.” Senshia replied. “Life. She hates Oblivion. So does the Phoenix. Both for obvious reasons. But I don’t think Life would kill or curse a baby. So it is either agents of the Phoenix or some unknown enemy.”
“Is this where everyone tells me I need to start hurting people more?”
“Yes. Because someone chose to specifically come after you. There is an old incomplete prophecy. Someone broke it so unless you find someone who knew it before its Record was deleted or find a physical copy we don’t have all of it. It goes-
The Tower will open its mouth,
and one forged in silence will answer.
A Celestine not born, but made,
Shall walk where others fear,
And will now bow when others kneel.”
Chains shall be his crown,
despair his fire-'
There is more but no one can find the rest.”
“And you think this is me?”
“I think someone thinks its you.” Senshia replied.
“Any guesses who?” Liam asked. Torric couldn’t see his face but from his tone of voice he could imagine he was frowning heavily, brows furrowing.
“Yes, but I won’t say who. It could attract their attention.”
“Well that’s not ominous.” Liam said dryly. “So what do we do?”
“Protect Torric. Get stronger. The faster he climbs the Ladder of Heavens the better. The beast mother set him up well with his crucible. She’s done more for his start than any of ours in a long long time.” Senshia replied. “Make allies. Many of our siblings are coming here to stay. It is common for families to settle around their scions while they attend the school here. Or guards in Liam’s case.”
“We’ll be staying here, now that Meidron is back.” Katseya asserted. “”I am not leaving my son so quickly now that he is back, no matter what form he has taken.”
“I do have a bit more to add to the discussion on who is hunting Torric.” Meidron spoke up. The mother spoke to me quite a bit while I recovered and was reformed into an oblivion spirit. She believes it is,,, who you are thinking. She just doesn’t know why.”
“Well our network is going to get to work.” Senshia said firmly.
“As is ours.” Katseya replied “I’m the head of our branch and I will put a massive amount of our resources into this.Succubi and incubi make great spies. People spill so many secrets after getting their brains fucked out. No magic needed.” She laughed, the sound low and sultry that stirred him in ways that were entirely inappropriate considering whose mother she was.
“Half our siblings are coming here to protect you. The other half are going hunting.” Senshia promised. “They’ll be arriving soon, they’re scattered all over the multiverse. Torric, I want you to know, if we had ever thought you were alive we would have come for you. When they cursed you they hid you from the System. We truly thought you dead. We grieved you. We are so happy you are alive, and would have scoured Praetoria barren for leaving you as you were. Once everyone is here we’ll be throwing a huge party.
“I can’t wait to meet them.” Torric said with a smile. “I guess you also want me to be more ruthless, Mei?”
“Yes.” He replied seriously. “You should punish Pelinor further. Announce the delay was because you wanted to consult with your guardian as to the proper punishment to mete out. You need to look stronger for the real world. Liam spoke the truth when he said you need to be harder.”
“Then oh wise advisors, what should I do to him? Lily you were the first aggrieved. He wanted you.”
“Take his cock. And hands.” She replied hotly. “For touching me and wanting to fuck me. Obviously the only men I’d allow to touch me are within the luminature.” She snorted derisively.
Torric blinked at her, shocked. She’d previously made it very clear that thy were not going to be having sex. “Wait I thought you didn’t want to have sex with…”
“I did. I still do. I want to be your lover just as much as Liam and Meidron are. But Torric was one big ball of ache when I joined him and I definitely wasn’t going to take advantage of him in that situation just because I wanted to have sex with him.”
“Don’t worry we’ll all be fucking soon enough.” Meidron said with a wicked smile that left Torric’s body thrumming with anticipation.
“Your presence does seem to have calmed him down a lot.” Lily commented. “His aura is considerably more peaceful.”
“Were they like this together before?” She asked Liam. “I only saw them together the one time before he died.”
“Yes. Meidron could calm Torric down when no one could. And twist him around his finger.”
“Hey no talking about us like we aren't here!” Torric retorted with mock annoyance.
“Moonstar, give my mother a chance to hold me for herself, then we can get reacquainted in the bedroom.” Meidron promised
Torric nodded and climbed out of his lap after a long kiss. He, Lily, and Liam moved out of the way to allow Katseya and Meinorn to embrace their son for the first time since his resurrection as Torric's soul bonded familiar.
“Do you care if I kick the two of you out of the bedroom for a little bit?” He whispered to Lily and Liam.
"Of course.” Liam replied with a gentle smile. "You deserve to have some time alone. We’re not going anywhere.”
Lily nodded. “We can stay out here while you spend some quiet time with Meidron. But tonight we all share a bed.”
“Deal.” He paused and stroked her cheek gentle. “Lily, I want you to know that just because Mei is back it doesn't mean I’m going to abandon you.”
“Why would I think you would abandon me?” Lily answered with a soft smile. “Meidron being back in any form is a good thing. And you would never abandon me. You’re not that kind of person.”
He laid a gentle kiss on her cheek. “I love you, too, you know. I know I haven’t really said it, or shown it. But we wouldn't be here without you.”
“Wolves are patient hunters, Torric. We will stalk our prey for miles. I’m still hunting you, your eminence.”
“I’ll let you catch me soon, my huntress.” He promised, stroking her cheek then gently kissing her lips.
Meidron grabbed his hand from behind. “Let’s go reunite, moonstar.”
They disappeared straight back to his bedroom and Torric immediately began gently stripping the clothes from Meidron’s body.
His skin had darkened, no longer cherry red but a red so deep it was nearly black. A gold outline of wings was on his back. Wings that would and could become real if he chose.
Torric stroked his tail, fingering the barbed tip, then caressed the curve of his ass. He traced butterfly kisses across Meidron’s collar bone. Up his throat, the side of his neck, to his earlobe, setting his teeth against its edge and biting down.
Meidron moaned softly as Torric reacquainted himself with his body, reassuring himself that it was real. That he was real.
His lover pulled Torric roughly against him, their bodies connecting in one long line. “I watched you rip yourself apart night after night, guilt tearing at your soul.” He murmured in Torric's ear. “I wanted to comfort you so badly but I couldn’t. Not until recently. I didn’t have the strength.”
“What matters is you are here,” Torric whispered. “With me now. And I’ll never let you go again.”
They laid down in the bed together and this time it was Meidron’s turn to explore his body. Kissing his way up and down his body. Kissing the backs of his knees, biting the inside of his thigh until Torric cried out in pleasure.
He kissed his way up his toned stomach, kissing each nipple, then encircling it with his tongue as Torric’s breath hitched beneath him and his chest quivered. Meidron took his nipple into his mouth, rolling it between his teeth. Torric gasped as he bit down, not to punish but to pleasure.
His breath was ragged as Meidron kissed his way across his chest to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment.
Then he kissed his way up Torric's throat to his lips, gently claiming them as his own.
His hand wrapped around Torric’s hard, aching cock, stroking it as he moaned into his mouth. They made sweet tender love together, Meidron using every trick in his considerable book to draw out his pleasure and the intimacy between them.
He brought Torric the first time with just his mouth. Then commanded him to get on his hands and knees. Torric did as he was bid, his wings falling open and to the sides, revealing his muscular back. Meidron cupped his ass with one hand, squeezing it roughly. The other wrapped itself around the base of Torric’s tail, gripping it firmly.
Torric moaned loudly. “Please Mei, I need you.”
Meidron gently pulled apart his ass cheeks, running his hard cock up and down his crack. “I’ve been dreaming of this.”
“Not as much as me. I never thought I’d have you back.”
“I am back.” Meidron answered, slowly pushing inside him, making Torric moan low in his throat. “And you can’t get rid of me now.”
They didn’t fuck, they made tender, sweet love. Meidron’s incubi powers were gone, he couldn’t bring Torric over and over again with just a touch, but he didn’t need the touch of that magic, just the touch of his lover.
Afterwards they snuggled together in the bed, Torric laying half on top of Meidron’s dark chest, his wings fanned out over them both.After, Torric lay half sprawled across Meidron’s chest, wings tented over them like a canopy. His heartbeat slowed.
There was no answering drum beneath his ear.
“You’re different,” he whispered. “Your aura’s darker.”
“Dying changes you, moonstar.”
“Yeah, like you stopped calling me little star.”
“You are the Broken Moon, and the guiding star in my night. Moonstar. You changed too. The Class you became. You had many Class options when you Evolved to B grade, yet you took the one about being broken and giving into the darkness.”
“To be fair it was like 3 days after you died.”
“You went all grimdark shadow lord.”
“But yet you still want me to go full evil and maim and kill people.”
“There’s a difference between standing your ground and proving you won’t let people take advantage of you or get away with treating you badly and going full maniacal overlord, slaughtering the innocents, love. But your Classes change you, who you are, and they show off an aspect of who you are. Broken Moon? That is a major clue as to how you felt at the time you Evolved. You might not notice a change yet, but you’ve been fighting through the lattice and barely interacting with people. My old Torric would never have dueled someone. You would have tried to defuse the situation first. Instead you jumped straight to violence, for you, and threatened to rip his eyes out.”
“So we’re both changed.”
“Yes. I can’t disobey you now. I used to be able to as your Lumin. Now I can’t.”
“You don’t have a heart beat.” Torric said softly, his head over Meidron’s heart.
“No. I don’t. I don’t have blood, technically I don’t have semen. I can feel pleasure but it isn’t the same as it used to. I’m no longer an incubus. It feels odd to not need to survive off lifeforce. But at the same time it isn’t so different, for as your familiar I exist purely off your energy. I don’t need to eat or drink or sleep.”
“Don’t worry though.” He added, fisting one hand in Torric’s hair. “You’ll always be my pet. And I will treat you like my domivayn whenever you want.”
“What does it mean, that you can’t reincarnate?”
“Exactly that. I exist outside the natural order of life now. I still love you, would die for you, but my emotions are…different. I’m different. I don’t know fully who I am any more. Every aspect of my being is devoted to you, to keeping you happy, to pleasing you, to pleasuring you. I couldn’t hurt you if I tried, not on purpose.”
“I don’t care who you are, now that I have you back.” Torric swore.
“Will you say that as Oblivion begins to assert itself over me? As it creeps into you too? Our souls are one, and I’m not done changing. You’ll change with me now that I’m manifested.”
“I don’t care.” Torric repeated. “I’ll become anyone to have you back.”
“You say that now, but just hours ago you were struggling with the ethics of blinding someone who had seriously trespassed against you. Don’t be so quick to give up part of your soul. You need to be harder, yes, but you can’t fall to the darkness either. Not without losing yourself. And I have to warn you, the mother says she isn’t saving Lily or Liam if they die the way she saved me. I only got saved because I protected you. She can’t break the rules too much. The whole point of her nature is that dead things stay dead forever. She is the ender of all things.”
“No one can die on me now, not without my permission.” Torric answered. “My Divine Powers made sure of it. Look.”
Life-Binder’s Pact – In your shadow, life clings like ivy. Even the scythe of Death cannot cut where the Life-Binder wills.
- Sanctum of Breath: Within a radius of up to 10 miles, death is suspended. Mortals and rankers A grade or below who are struck down within range remain stabilized at 1 HP, unable to perish without your direct permission
- Chosen Preservation: You may allow one individual per day to cheat death entirely, restoring them from fatal destruction at the cost of devotion points.
- Overrule Mortality: You may “release” the dying, choosing when and how death is permitted to claim them.
- Limitations: Costs immense amounts of devotion to maintain Sanctum of Breath; the domain cannot exceed 10 miles per manifestation. The smaller the domain the less devotion is used. Overuse may draw the wrath of the God of Death, as you disturb the balance.
“Well that’ll help a lot, but don’t go spending all your devotion just to save us.”
“I would give up everything to save you three. I couldn’t bear to lose any of you. Not again.”
“Don’t give up anything for us. Fight for us. Struggle tooth and nail.” Meidron replied. “Claw apart Death to save us, for we would do the same for you. And that includes saving yourself. You die we all die. Don’t ever forget your life is most important to us all.”
“Because of that prophecy?”
“No, idiot. Because we love you.”
“I really do need to hurt Pelinor more, don’t I?” He sighed. “To protect us. That’s part of the whole fighting tooth and claw.”
“Yes.”
“I hate it. I don’t want to become that person who is casually brutal.”
“You do it for a reason. Or not at all. And mercy isn’t a bad thing. Offer it when you can. But not too much, and don’t offer mercy for mercy’s sake. Remember, this is as much part of your Vows as protecting children and caring for the downtrodden. This Pelinor man is one of the worst types of nobles, exactly the kind of man your Vows say to fight against.”
“So what do I do to him?”
“Why don’t we go back out and ask the group? Then you aren’t lying when you said you waited to dole out further punishment in order to see advice from your guardians.” Meidron suggested.
They cleaned up then dressed and rejoined everyone in the sitting room.
“Crush his hands and cut off his cock,” Lily said without hesitation when they posed the question to the group. Of course, she would have been the one forced into Pelinor’s bed so Torric couldn’t really blame her for her reaction.. “Curse the wounds so they never mend.”
“It would make the lesson memorable,” Katseya allowed. “And since you can’t enslave him as recompense…”
“If I cripple him more, I’ll feel like a monster,” Torric said, jaw tight. “Prison will only polish his self-pity.”
“You could kill him,” Senshia offered. “That’ll be a wonderful object lesson for the next idiot.”
“No.” Torric’s answer was immediate.
Meidron’s voice cut clean. “Strip the mask, not the flesh. Take the title, the land, the coin, bind him with a geas he can’t charm his way around the punishment and find some way to gain any of the three back. Make his own House keep him fed and roofed, but nothing more. He lives, he learns, and everyone sees.”
Torric exhaled. “That… could work. A command that his family keeps him off the streets and out of the grave, but otherwise he’s cut off.”
Liam nodded once. “Mercy that bites.”
Lily’s mouth thinned. “Fine. Then make sure he can’t touch anyone without consent ever again.”
Torric’s wings settled. “So judged.”
“I will contact the queen as your representative to gather Pelinor and his ancestors in order to deliver your judgement.” Senshia announced. “But since it is your sentence, you must pass it. I won’t do it for you, and neither will the queen.”
“Fine. But I won’t do it today. I don’t want to deal with him or anything like that when I just got Mei back. I think… I think I’d like to go to my mother’s temple and offer her an offering of thanks for bringing him back to me. And then have a day out exploring the capital. Just us as a family. Then tonight we can have a huge feast-” He faltered, remembering that Meidron didn’t eat any more.
“I still want all of you to have a feast.” Meidron told him. “Just because I don’t need to doesn’t mean I don’t want to watch you all eat. And I want to be the one to cook it. With Lily and Liam if they’re willing.”
“Yes!” Liam agreed immediately.
“Absolutely.” Lily added a heartbeat later. “It’ll be the first meal that Torric will have gotten from all three of us.”
-*-
They all got ready to go out, taking one of Katseya's magical carriages. It needed no horses to move, though it did still need a driver. It was also bigger on the inside than the outside suggested, making it more than comfortable for the 7 of them to ride together. They didn’t bother with guards, not with 2 A grades and an S grade with them. Not to mention Torric was a fairly heavy hitter himself now, with all the Divinity Shards he now had. Most people didn’t get their first shard until A grade unless someone gave them one. He was halfway to A and already was almost halfway to his first Divinity Seed.
The temple of Bahumet was located in what was known as the Temple District, which was where all the main temples were for the 13 celestines, and all the lesser gods that were commonly worshiped on Avalon. There was a large crowd in front of Bahumet’s temple, a crowd that surged forward when Torric emerged from the carriage. They backed off when Senshia flared her aura around them, the crowd stopping in their tracks.
They went into the temple immediately, and were greeted at the door by the the HIgh Priestess who governed the temple. “Your eminences, it is an honor to have you.” She greeted them.
“I would like a private room to commune with my mother.” Torric told her. “While my lumin gather my offerings.”
“Of course, your eminence. Please, follow me.” She replied, bowing before him. Another priestess stepped forward to lead Lily and Liam to where his offerings were, while Meidron followed Torric and the high priestess to the private room.
When they got to the room it was clearly a space dedicated to worship, and was so well appointed it had to be for senior members of the temple. The room was painted black, with black cushions on the floor situated before a white table bedecked with black and white candles in gold holders and the symbols of Bahument in the center of it.
He knelt on the pillow while Meidron stood behind him, a comforting, silent presence at his back. He pushed his senses outward, into the void, and inward, into his own soul at the same time, seeking the presence of his mother both outside the world within the void and inside his own soul, settling into a trance state.
When he connected with her, her presence filled him with her joy and elation that he had come to her. Her engulfing presence shrunk down to envelop him within the cold warmth of the embrace of oblivion.
My son.
Mother. I come to thank you for giving him back to me.
He sacrificed himself for you, saving you when I had just gotten you back.
How could I not save him?
Still. Is there anything I can do, to offer you, in order to show my thanks?
You may offer to me a portion of your devotion.
Not the points, you need every point you can get.
But the devotion itself, you can offer it to me and it will do you no harm.
Then I give it, and gladly. Take as much as you want.
I will take one third.
You have gathered much, my son, and swiftly. Even without My hand you outpace your siblings’ youth. Few held over ten billion before C-grade. Moreover-
Her presence warmed,
-You wrought two Legends on your own while still C-grade. I could not have given you the Praetorian gods’ shards had you not forged your own Legends first. Otherwise, their Legends would have devoured you when you broke and took them.
You have done more for me than I could ask.
You are my son.
My beloved, stolen child.
What was done to you-
the void shivered in anger,
-When I learn who, their suffering will be legend.
I know it was not Life. And the Phoenix denies it.
He applauds the attempt, but claims no hand.
Someone moves against us from the dark. And I feel the strike is aimed not at Me through you, but at you, with Me as the obstacle.
If My siblings strike you to wound Me, I am bound in how I answer. But if a Celestine, a greater astral being, God or god hunts you for reasons unrelated to Me, My hands are not tied.
Then I will bring My full might to your defense and My full wrath will rain down upon them.
Did the gods of Praetoria act of their own will, or at another’s prodding?
That is a very good question, my son.
One whose answer I seek even now.
I kept Praetoria’s god of Knowledge alive when I destroyed their pantheon.
She has not yet provided me with the answers that I seek.
When I am done with her I shall send her Shard to you, as I did the others.
Is there anything else I can do for you? To honor you?
Grow stronger, my son.
I need every one of my children to act as my agents in the material world.
The stronger you grow, so I grow.
I have given you the strongest foundation I have dared give one of my children in quite some time.
Do not make me regret the power that I have invested in you.
Listen to your siblings.
It is Senshia’s role to guide you.
To be my living eyes and ears upon you.
She speaks with my voice when I do not speak to you directly.
I will. And I will not forget what you did for me. For him.
The presence of his mother hugged him once more, then retreated. The dark aura in the room disappeared, and the air around him became less oppressive.
“What did our mother say?” Senshia asked.
“That she thinks that someone is striking at me directly, unrelated to her, and if they are it means she is more free to act than if this is another plot from one of her siblings. She also said that she doesn’t think it was Life and the Phoenix claims it wasn’t him.
“The Phoenix isn’t one to give another credit for an action he undertook, so if he claims it was not him then it likely wasn’t, which means the two biggest suspects have been ruled out.”
Senshia frowned. “Why would they strike at you unrelated to her?” She mused to herself. “We will definitely need to continue to dig deeper into this.”
They left the temple, a mountain of offerings having been stuffed into Liam and Lily’s soul storages. They wandered the markets for the rest of the day, getting stopped many times by people offering gifts of devotion to him or Senshia or both of them. They stopped at a few different Skill book stores to browse but Senshia said not to take any other than basic education Skill books to help him get a better understanding of the System and the world around them until after she had looked at the lists of books provided from Lenza and Piq for them to look through. Both were SS ranked, albeit lower than the queen, and had been around for thousands of years. The treasures they had access to were likely far more valuable and rare than anything that they could find in a shop, even in a place like Avalon.
They all went back to the school early so that Liam, Meidron, and Lily could begin cooking their feast, minus Meidron’s parents. While they cooked, Senshia left to meet with the Yetvanas. Katseya and Meinorn stayed in the city to begin searching for a new home to purchase while they stayed in Avalon. They did promise to be back in time for dinner, though.
Left alone for the first time in weeks, Torric sat down in a patch of sunlight shining in through the window and began meditating.
Meidron’s presence several hours later snapped him out of his meditative trance. The sun patch he had been sitting in had long since faded away, the suns themselves having set. Judging by the deep red-purple of the sky outside, Avalon’s second sun had very recently slipped below the horizon.
“Dinner is ready.” He told Torric simply when he opened his eyes to look up at him.
“Help me up.” Torric told him, offering his hands. Getting up off the floor with three sets of wings sprouting from different points in your back made things awkward at times. Besides, he wanted another reason to touch his previously lost lover.
Meidron pulled him to his feet and they walked to the long table that had been covered in different dishes. Half the table was set with food that had clearly been made for Torric and his luminature, for the food was dripping with the energy of devotion. The other half of the table was set with normal food for Katseya and Meinorn.
Torric ate his meal on Meidron’s lap. Or more like Meidron fed him his meal, for Torric mysteriously forgot how to use his silverware and needed the assistance of his familiar, who was happy to provide it. No one spoke of Meidron’s death or resurrection as a familiar. Instead they spoke of the rapidly approaching school term, and places that they wanted to see in the city but hadn’t had time to go to during their earlier outing.
Meidron’s parents spent the entirety of dessert telling embarrassing stories about their son when he was a baby and young child, leaving them all in stitches and Meidron begging them repeatedly to leave him at least some mystery and dignity. They ignored his every plea.
When it was about time for them to return to their dorm room they stopped to deposit Liam at the Evolution Center so that he could have his delayed Evolution to B grade before the school term started in just a few days. He’d get placed in a lower class than everyone else if he was still C grade on opening day and was running out of time to complete it.
Once he was safely ensconced within the protective barriers of the Center, he Lily and Meidron returned to their dorm room. Lily almost immediately went to sleep, she’d been awoken early from her post Evolution slumber due to Torric’s melt down and now that it was night and they were in bed the exhaustion was catching up with her.
Torric cuddled with her until she fell asleep then rolled over to cuddle against Meidron. He wasn’t really tired, not physically at least, emotionally he was exhausted. Instead Meidron read aloud from one of their new fiction books until Torric couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer and fell into his own exhausted sleep, curled up in his resurrected familiar’s arms.
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