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Fantasy It Has HOW Many Floors?

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Rayze Ellings
You don't understand. I'm a physician by choice, not by nature.

{It's an initial post, so it's longer than I would normally write. Hopefully it builds the world a little bit and gives you thoughts to play with. Enjoy!}


You know, for a tower described as "the devil's middle finger sent straight from Hell," I expected worse.

Well, no, let me be more specific. "Expected," past tense, implies I no longer expected it to be awful, which wasn't true. I was still fully anticipating some type of psychological or physical horror awaiting me on the later floors; I was only surprised it wasn't instant. Suffice to say, the very first floor I entered really wasn't all that noteworthy. It was a square, empty room with a door on the opposite end. That was it.

I didn't realize it at the time, but I shouldn't have been able to see the room at all. There were no windows, no sources of light that I could see, and the doorway I'd entered through had vanished the moment I'd walked through it, so no way for the outside daylight to creep through the cracks. No light means no vision. I'm still not entirely sure what gave the room its faint illumination, but my best guess was some type of intense Betrail aura. Supposedly, it's only visible when someone is actively channeling, but considering that the tower likely acted as some Betrail beacon, I wouldn't be surprised to learn that there was enough latent energy in the air to give a ubiquitous almost-light. That, or I'd suddenly been granted night vision by the holy gods above.

Ha. Right.

When I'd stepped through, the change in brightness was drastic enough that my eyes needed time to adjust. I could make out the general outline of the room and the shape of the door but little else. There were faint runes inscribed on the door that glowed with a soft purplish glint; I would've missed it entirely had the room not been as dark as it was. When I stared at the writing, I felt this odd sensation of understanding. "Come," it read, though I shouldn't have been able to make out the details well enough from my distance--assuming it was even a language I was familiar with.

I still acted cautiously. I mean, this tower quite literally killed people. Often. I wasn't about to simply stride across a room no matter how innocent it looked. Luckily for me, after my eyes had adjusted to the low light, I noticed something I'd failed to see initially: a wide chasm separating me from the door with walls that looked unnaturally straight. I say "luckily" because, had it only been an empty room, there was a fair chance there would be some hidden piece waiting to spring on me. Dealing with something I could see at least meant nothing would catch me by surprise. Assuming the challenge was to cross the room. If it were actually some dragon's den or hole through which acid began to rise, I reserved the right to rescind my previous statement.

I leaned over to see how far it went, but I couldn't get a sense for its depth. I didn't see the end, no, but that didn't necessarily mean it was endless; there simply wasn't a lot of light to see by in the first place. Who knows? Maybe there was a bottomless pit. I'd entered on the ground, so if there were a place for one, it'd be there. Regardless, it wasn't something I was eager to test.

After waiting a little longer and hearing nothing nor finding anything beyond the large gap which, for all I knew, might have been the entrance to the literal gates of Hell, I started running through ideas in my head. How to cross a chasm that was four times longer than anything I could jump? With no help? And possibly with other dangers lurking in the depths?

All things considered, it could have been worse.

Consider it a blessing. Or don't. It's the same to me either way.

 
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This it it?

Cleonel Sebastian's dark brown irises scaled the side of the tower, lingering near the part of the tower that disappears into the foggy canopy overhead. He couldn't help but feel a little bit disappointed, deeply scrutinizing how mundane its exterior looked.

Is this really the right tower? Leo second-guessed, neck twisting and arching around just to see if he took a wrong turn somewhere and the real tower was just over yonder. Weird. I was expecting just a little bit more of a reception. If the Sebastian family's heir were to ace this boring-ass tower, at least spruce it up a bit, come on!

The male started pacing the dirt path that led up to the tower's entrance, dilly-dallying as his hands flew this way and that. His hands seemed to plop banners, confetti cannons, firing squads, an embellished red carpet, and other grandiose setups onto the scene as a royal purple glow started to shine from his eyes. Hm. The banner should have "WELCOME, CLEONEL, FIRST TOWER CLEARER" written in actual gold. Not gold ink. Literal, melted gold.

The purple glow deepened as he crossed his arms contentedly, satisfied at the mental image he had overlayed on the reality. In his mind's ear, trumpets sounded and guns fired, signalling the point in time in which he was to enter the tower. With his arms and legs raring to go, he took one last look over his shoulder at a looming castle, one that belonged to his father. His eyes flashed jet black for a second before returning to the scintillating purple that he was so known for. Watch me, Father.







the influencer



leo.








  • filler tab!





♡coded by uxie♡
 
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Rayze Ellings
You don't understand. I'm a physician by choice, not by nature.

I'd brought the ring you gave me, of course. Useful little thing. Considering it was never intended to be used as a light, it gave off a decent glow, and I used it to check the walls and ceiling of the room in case there were some hidden handholds or platforms to help me get across. Believe it or not, the room had no pre-made pathway to cross the chasm. Shocking, I know.

I figured it was worth the look, though. The real test was the chasm itself. I wanted to get a feel for how deep it was, hopefully without using myself as the measuring stick. I would normally drop something and listen for the corresponding sound, but there wasn't anything in my pack I wanted to discard. And the ring's light wasn't enough to show the end. (By the way, next time you propose, consider something that would help me see a little better into a darkness of possibly infinite depths. Thanks.) I looked as far as I could, down to where the light faded to black, straining to catch the bottom. There had to be something. Maybe some ... some type of shape or outline or ...

I couldn't be sure, but I thought I noticed something odd. At the very end of what was visible, the light ... wavered, similar to how the air looks near the blacksmith's furnace. It was faint enough that I couldn't tell if there was actually something moving or if it was my imagination. I continued to stare at it. Something tickled the back of my mind in faint recollection. It almost looked familiar, but I couldn't place it. I felt like I was trying to recall details from a fleeting dream.

The longer I stared, the more the feeling of recognition grew until I had two flashes of insights at once. The first insight: Yes, the light was indeed shifting near the bottom, and I recognized those patterns. It only ever flickered like that when it crossed paths with active Betrail channeling. That's right. Active channeling. Not latent tower energy, but focused, directed channeling near the edge of the light. The second insight: It was rising. I almost couldn't see the wavering when I'd first looked, but I no longer struggled to see the movement. Something, whatever it was, was slowly creeping upwards--not unlike the rising pool of acid I'd unfortunately joked about.

I had no idea what would happen once the Betrail energy reached me, but I had a feeling it would be wiser for me to get to the other side before it happened. Stories of death and whatnot.

Consider it a blessing. Or don't. It's the same to me either way.
 








Leo's dark brown hair zipped through the air as his Pride-aided limbs swung wildly, bringing him into the tower with every step. There was no door that marked the stone-arched entrance to the tower, but even if there was a door, Leo would've just blown through with a simple, well-placed, jet-black punch. The very thought deepened the purple glow that trailed his irises into a shade of indigo, boosting his speed even further as he dived straight into the first floor, no hesitation at all. Waiting is for the weak. If you aren't even confident enough in yourself to burst through the doors headfirst, why go through them in the first place? he thought to himself as his eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light levels of the first floor. His heels ground to a halt on the now stone floor, taking a second to survey his surroundings.

Blazing torches lined the mossy walls of the room, walls that stretched further upwards than they did outwards. No nook or cranny marked the slabs of stone, all that provided depth to the room's image were blotches of green moss. The exit paired to the tower's entrance was nowhere obvious, but as Leo craned his neck upwards, he could trace the outline of a platform. Any other person would've noted the faint glow emanating from the platform, indicative of a probable exit. But even without such thoughts, Leo was already revving up to reach the platform. It was mighty high up, and no ladder he's ever seen would be able to scale such a thing. The brunet cocked his head and cracked his knuckles, the scintillating purple vanishing as obsidian black replaced it once again. He brought his right hand up to eye level, gazing in familiarity as a dark orb bounced erratically above his fingertips. His left hand clenched into a thumbs-up, raising it up to the platform as if he knew how to gauge distances. Frankly, he was just doing it for show.

Just a few more seconds of this... he thought, allowing the orb to leave his hand as he chucked it at the platform. Leo's eye trails brightened back up to a purple, accompanied by the usual boost as his senses heightened. His perception increased tenfold as the faintest of black wisps trailed after the orb that still sailed through the air. His vision clarified and strengthened as the orb dug dead center underneath the platform. His hearing intensified as the explosion that should've been dulled from distance rang in his ears. His reaction times shortened tenfold as cracks started appearing in the stone platform before each piece broke off, cascading in a deathly landfall.

Without even giving it a second thought, Leo lept into the air as the first piece of the platform came within range. In some form of (totally not physics-defying) acrobatics, he allowed his instinct to take over as he bound from platform to platform, quickly making his way up to where the entire platform once rested. At the top, the male posed with hands on his hips as if he had an audience and was expecting a round of applause. But when the sound of dust settling and stone shuffling met his ears, he dropped his bravado, taking yet another second to check his surroundings. He was standing on the tiniest piece of platform, one that connected to a dark hallway. The only light source was two flaming torches at the mouth of the hallway, neatly slotted into their sconces. With his heightened vision, he could see down the hallway just fine, but as he stopped channeling Pride, he could tell he was going to need those torches.

Yoinking a torch from its metal home on the wall, Leo started down the hallway. Wait, I almost forgot. The brunet paused midstep as his head dramatically spun. Anyone standing behind him would've felt the dastardly aura Wrath users were known for emanating, accompanied by the abyssal eye trails that stretched out of Leo's pupils. Without warning, Leo spun and chucked another dark orb right where he came from, willing it to expand and contort midflight. It reached the other side, met a surface, and promptly exploded, sending shockwaves reverberating down the hallway. Leo let out a maniacal laugh as he booked it into darkness, torch hand leading the way.

I'd apologize to any challengers coming after me for the mess I made. But sadly, I have no clue how to apologize. After all, once I clear this and become the first tower clearer... and maybe after redoing and clearing it a second time... this tower won't live to see another day.







the influencer



leo.








  • filler tab!





♡coded by uxie♡
 

Rayze Ellings
You don't understand. I'm a physician by choice, not by nature.

I know what you're thinking. If only there were some sort of additional power source to draw from, some added help, as if from a different plane of existence; if only I were someone who had spent years mastering the art of channeling. Oh, what's that? I, Rayze, am a Betrain? What luck.

But I'd spent the majority of my time channeling Charity for obvious reasons. That alone was difficult enough. It had taken me years to grow competent enough to be a reliable physician, so I was lucky I'd started young. Strictly speaking, I was physically able to channel other Betraites like Pride—which would have made this situation trivial. Pointless to try and hone those other traits now, though. I took a quick look over the edge to confirm that, yes, my ring still showed the frothing mess of energy rising, and it certainly wouldn't wait the several years required for me to practice channeling the other Betraites. I had access to Charity. That was it. In other words, I had honed a skill that could save anybody in the room except myself.

The irony of the situation was not lost on me.

I wasn't entirely helpless, though. I shrugged off my bag and started rummaging through the various supplies I'd brought. Remember that doll I had? The small one, with the white dress and frilly little bonnet? I don't think I brought it out often around you simply because Charity is much easier to use on real people, and I didn't see a practical need for it. I was already connected to it; the ring only glowed when I was channeling something, a pleasant indicator that it was aiding me. The real challenge would be channeling Charity in a way that benefitted me without intending to benefit me. It's an interesting mind game; you should try it one day, what with all this free time you have.

Putting my pack back on, I approached the edge of the chasm with the doll in hand and stared into its depths. I didn't want to leave my doll alone to its fate where it would succumb to whatever energy was climbing (and possibly explode for all I knew). Seeing as I had no way across myself, it would be cruel of me to leave my doll to suffer some horrible fate without some way to provide it comfort. It had always served me well. The most humane thing to do would be to place it in a painless, unconscious state so that it could go on in peace.

Now, the doll wasn't actually alive. It could only act as a target for me to focus my Charity. Concepts of "weakness" and "strength" and "pain" were stored in its imbued fibers as Betrail energy, nothing more. The effect on me, however, was quite different. Charity uses my own self as part of the fuel for the channel, so, holding the doll in both hands with as much care as I could manage, I started to give it all the things I felt would help it: I hid its strength so its magical parts wouldn't react with whatever Betrail energy was coming; I gave it tranquility so that it would feel calm as the event happened.

As I continued the channel, the ring's glow increased, and I could feel strength flowing into me alongside a growing anxiety. For my doll to have weakness, it must take mine, which is backhandedly what I wanted. It unfortunately also started taking my tranquility, hence the nervousness that had already started forming a pit in my stomach. I know it sounds strange to add the parts that harm me, but it was already difficult as it was to give it my weakness—or, in other words, gather strength—because despite my rationalizations, I knew something felt off. A large portion of my attention was dedicated to not thinking too hard about the actual implications of my channeling. I had to really intend to help this doll. I could deal with additional anxiety if it meant more physical strength.

We had a few problems, though. Firstly, as I was gathering strength, I noticed that something tickled my mind, feeling like a far-off sound. It felt foreign to me. It was some ... voice, almost, like a whisper from a distant room whose words I couldn't make out. And for reasons I couldn't say, it made me feel unsettled. There was a vague wrongness to it. I looked over the chasm and discovered that the frothing energy was closer than I'd expected it to be. Was it rising faster?

Secondly, giving someone weakness isn't exactly the same as stealing strength. There's a limit to how much you can give. Had this doll been an actual person, between the combined energy of my years practicing Charity (which basically amplified the power) and my ring (which actually amplified the power), he would have been knocked into a comatose state. And I really wasn't that much stronger.

Keeping the doll in hand, I walked up to the nearest wall and tried testing how far I could jump. (By jumping parallel to the chasm's edge, of course, not into it. I'm not stupid.) I kicked down, hard, and was pleasantly surprised to find that I leapt farther than I was anticipating. Just not far enough yet. Unfortunate. I tried it a few more times to be sure, but it wasn't enough.

Oh, and whatever was in the pit was continuing to rise. By this point, after my trial runs, I could tell even without my ring's glow now. That sense of uneasiness, distinct from what the doll was giving me, was growing. It was gnawing at me the way rust eats at metal, and the presence I felt in my mind continued in a voice not unlike a vat of snakes slithering over each other. The hairs on my arms were beginning to rise. There was a palpable, invisible hum of energy, like static in the air the moment before lightning strikes.

I don't feel desperation, of course. Obviously. But I certainly felt the heightened tension. I slung off my pack to see if I could jump farther without it on. It was relatively light, but I'd still packed enough to prepare for quite some days here, and losing the weight might make a difference. Walking to the wall, I jumped again and landed maybe a few handspans further. Improvement? Yes. But not enough. I'd continued the channel to my doll through all my practices, giving up more and more weakness, but I didn't have an infinite pool of weakness to draw from (much as I may appear to at times). Diminishing rewards. I was still getting more strength (and more anxiety), but it wasn't fast enough.

And by the looks of it, I didn't have much time left. I peered over the edge again, and I could feel the power radiating off of whatever invisible source down there. My ring flickered. Something was pushing against my mind, and I subconsciously began to grit my teeth. Stars and stones. My palms grew slick. I wouldn't clear the whole chasm, but I was going to have to hope that I'd land close enough to grab the top of the other wall and haul myself up.

I grabbed my pack from the floor, hefted it in my hands to get a feel for its weight one last time, then hurled it across. I did not want this dropping into the abyss. It hit the far edge of the wall with a hard crack before slumping against the floor, and I couldn't help but stare at it. Ah. My bad. I overestimated how hard I'd needed to throw it.

My turn. I walked as far back as I could manage to give myself a running head start. Not much room, but it was better than nothing. It was me, the stone walls, the door at the other side of the room, and a venomous pit that was probably trying to kill me. And the doll, of course. I gripped it tighter—no way was I losing that on the way over—took one last breath, then began to run towards the chasm. And leapt.

I felt like the world paused for a moment as I jumped, as if it were holding its breath. I remember having one clear thought, very distinct, as I passed over limitless darkness: I wonder if anyone will notice when I die. For that tick of time, the earth ceased to rotate, gravity held no sway, and I existed, weightless. And then I hit the wall.

I had no real way to brace myself since I needed my arms as high as possible to gain every inch of advantage, so all I could do was turn my face as my body collided in a violent impact. Pained slammed into me from all sides. It was the fear of death alone that kept my hands clawed at the top, my left hand scraping fingernails into the top of the stone and my right hand doing what it could with the doll in its grasp in the hopes that I could stop myself from sliding off despite having the wind knocked out of me. It hurt. Even the adrenaline coursing through my veins wasn't enough to stop an involuntary gasp.

And I would have been fine. I would have been able to pull myself out after a bit of struggling, catch my breath, and apply a few of the pain-numbing herbs I'd prepared. I would have been okay.

In the leap, however, one of my feet scraped the edge of the malignous energy that had been rising, and the pressure I'd been feeling against my mind, the sense of uneasiness that had been eroding at my defenses, suddenly burst over me like an ocean's wave.

Over the course of life, I'd come to understand how dangerous my emotions could be. Greed perpetually egged me on like the siren it is, making even normal, everyday decisions difficult. This internal warfare dragged on even when I slept, and try as I might, I couldn't resist forever. I slipped up. And when I did, people got hurt. They always did. I'd noticed this even before I met you, and one day, I came to a decision: The only way to not succumb was to destroy the temptation. Greed, it being an infinite source of power from another plane, wasn't something I couldn't affect, sadly. I could affect its hold on me, however, by learning to distance myself emotionally. True, it required sacrificing other things like happiness and contentment, but if the alternative was being an unstable assassin, I would learn to live with it. As such, after quite some years, I'd prepared for emotional onslaughts—even for weightier matters, like the inevitable rush that comes from extreme adrenaline or the reflex to strike back after being hurt or startled. What I had not prepared for was an external, overwhelming wave of fear powered by Lust (as I later learned) that was forced upon me, completely circumventing any personal safeguards.

I can't even describe how potent and raw it was. For the first time since the incident, I felt emotion to levels that I'd forgotten existed. My heart rate spiked. I could hear the blood pounding in my ears. In that moment, dangling at the edge of the chasm, the sensation having burned through all defensive mechanisms I had, I lost control and instinctively channeled Greed. It always comes with a peculiar heightened sense of awareness. As I breathed in, I felt myself searching for anything to latch onto with invisible tendrils, and I swore I could see vaporous yellow streaks where my wild channeling stretched out, hungry to leech the life out of anything it could grasp. I fastened on to the doll first. My connection to it, which had been almost thread-bare before, magnified, and I felt a nearness to it, an almost-kinship. I could feel its history, the way the fibers wove together with the inner Betrail frequencies that allowed it to be imbued, the pulses of energy it carried like blood flowing through artificial veins. Not enough. It barely had any light.

My attention shifted instantly to find something else, something that could feed the hunger tearing into me. And there was something nearby I could sink my teeth into: the rising energy, whatever it was. I tapped into the vat of power that was making its way up the chasm and felt like I were looking through a keyhole into a vast, plumbless night sky. My Greed immersed into it with an insatiable thirst.

Greed normally requires a fixed target. The better you know it, the easier it is to steal from it. Non-human entities were harder to connect to, half because objects simply don't hold as much Betrail energy and half because it's difficult to know the history of an object. Things as vague as "that frothing invisible smoke of death"? You might as well try to bring someone back from the dead with Wrath. As it was, however, that didn't prove to be even a slight hindrance.

It had been as instinctive as taking a breath after having been underwater for too long. As fowls take to the air and fish to water, I channeled Greed. Even after having laid dormant over a year since the incident and several years before it, it felt as familiar as if I'd never left it. And with it came life. My ring gave one bright, explosive pulse of light, almost blinding me, before it turned off completely. My mind sped up to inhuman clarity and understanding; the pain was instantly replaced with a sense of vitality. Without skipping a beat, I heaved myself over the edge and took in everything. I saw the etchings on the door in detail as if I were standing directly in front of it; I smelled the stale and faintly humid air of a room that had perhaps never seen the sun; and I felt everything. Determination to beat this floor, mourning at your loss, fear of dying, hope of overcoming, cynicism in the odds, excitement, energy, despair, hatred, loathing, love, giddiness. I'd forgotten what it was like to see the world in emotional color. It was still only a sliver compared to how I'd felt during the incident, but it was still intoxicating. Oh, to feel alive. I felt a wide grin spread across my face.

It was only the repeated practice had over the years of turning away from emotion, honed into a battle-hardened second-nature response, that let me inwardly power forward and end my channel to Greed. I struggled for a moment to gather enough willpower to stop, and in the moment before I cut it off, I felt an acute spike of fear the way one would feel the second they saw an assassin's knife plunge towards them. I started to force it shut, squeezing the connection closed with whatever mental energy I could gather.

—There is a long pause. In the background, the ambient noises of the graveyard whisper in the air, the details of the sounds lost, leaving their gentle touch to tease recognition but nothing further. A single, drawn-out sigh is heard—until it, too, fades into the sepulchral tones of a land more acquainted with the dead than the living.—

Do you know what it feels like to die?

Do you understand what it means let go of the things that make life sing? To forget the way the window fogs up as you stare excitedly at your first snowfall, your forehead and the tip of your nose growing cold against the frigid glass because you couldn't help getting as close as possible? To ignore the melody to the only song that brought you comfort, to place in a coffin the only person you'd ever loved?

I suppose you do, don't you?

It feels like that. Some part of me felt a throbbing, aching compulsion to stop the process. To be connected again, to not have to die, to listen to my will to survive screaming at me that I was killing myself. I hated it with the passion I could still hold on to accompanied by the tell-tale fear that I would lose myself and true concern over life not being worth anything if I weren't there to feel it. It was necessary, though. I had to end it, because I knew that if it grew beyond a certain level, I would simply never choose to come back. I almost didn't last time.

As the channel closed, the concentration I needed to force it back lessened, and I noticed without even needing to bend over that the swirling energy was almost to ground level. The fear it emanated was still there, but I was expecting it now and could temper it. Just a few more moments. Breathe.

In. (Please, please don't make me go back. Things will be okay this time, I swear. I won't hurt anyone.)
Out. (I promise no one will hurt! I'm the only one in the tower. I'm safe.)
In. (I don't . . . I don't want to lose again. Please don't . . .)
Out. pent up tears, wordless flush of anger
In. (Please.)
Out.

After a few more breaths, I was left with a vague, insubstantial pressure in the back of my mind, like there were something I'd forgotten to do and were trying to remember. It diminished further to a feather-like touch, only noticeable if I concentrated on it. And there it remained. It didn't go away completely, but I wasn't entirely surprised, either. It had taken me weeks to drop to manageable levels after the incident, and still months after that before it was so faint it didn't draw attention. While this slight infraction wasn't nearly as lengthy nor as potent, I believed I'd still feel some vestige of Greed for several days more. Note to self: Don't mess with Lust.

And now it was high-time that I left the room. I went to gather my things, still shaking somewhat, and stopped in front of the door, placing my doll inside the bag. The door was arched at the top. Wooden, perhaps, but I imagined it was very resilient to anything Betrail. No handle. It wasn't until I put my hand on the door, intending to push my way open, that I noticed my ring: it was dead. That intense Greed channeling must have made it completely unresponsive. Great. One floor down, and I'd already blown through one of my Betrail artifacts. I shook my head. I honestly had no idea how I'd make it through the whole tower. I could only hope that the ring wasn't broken permanently and that I managed to avoid ruining everything else on the next floor.

I could do this.

I pushed through the door.

Consider it a blessing. Or don't. It's the same to me either way.
 









Thump. Thump. Thump.

Leo's heartbeat pounded against his chest, in sync with his footsteps as he raced down the stone confines of the hallway. Not a single turn or bend was seen, given Leo would've ran straight into one going at the speed he was right now. While the torch in his hand cast flickering rays of light down the corridor, it didn't help much in terms of actual visibility. Did the rhythm in his chest waver? Did the seemingly endless tunnel intimidate him? Did the dark abyss daunt him?

Easy answer. Not at all.

As if to prove or even enforce his point further, he quickened his pace, barrelling down the tunnel at breakneck speeds. His hazel irises flashed a deep purple for a split second as a memory bubbled up to the surface. Instead of cement walls, the landscape around him melted into lush bushes, hedges, and vineyards. The flickering foliage faded in and out of reality, fighting some sort of battle for dominance with the grey cut faces of reality. Behind him raged the furious voices of the guards and servants that roamed his father's halls, all having just been doused with a fresh batch of grape wine. The same wine that the servants had just spent weeks trying to perfect. But even with the fits thrown at him from behind, not an ounce of fear resided in Leo's childish heart. The only reason for that was not bravado, no, he would learn what bravado is long after this. The real reason was his father. Just over yonder, Leo's father had his arms wide open, a look of pure pride and joy on his face. Seconds seemed to lay between him and a familiar embrace.

Three. Two. One.

But when those seconds disappeared, his reverie followed right after. Verdant gardens lost the battle for dominance, giving way to dull reality. Instead of a warm hug, all Leo was met with was a dark expanse that surrounded him in every direction. A pang of pain manifested somewhere within, even if it existed just for a moment, and he lowered his torch-bearing hand. Was that Pride's Downfall speaking or was it because of the memory?

Don't know. Don't care.

He willed away his vulnerable emotions, refusing to be human as he raised the torch once more, scanning his surroundings. As said earlier, all that he could see was pitch black nothingness in every direction. The torch did absolutely nothing to help. Its flame once shone a bright orange at the mouth of the tunnel, now shining a dim red after bearing the brunt of Leo's tunnel-running winds. Damn. Where'd I wind up this time? he contemplated, completely forgetting which direction he had come from. Whatever sense of logic Leo had left screamed at him to find the tunnel, stay in familiar bounds until his flames grew back to their full size, maybe even to go back to the previous room to get the other torch. Do anything else, just save Pride for whatever challenges lay ahead. But unfortunately for logic, Leo never really heeded such advice. Dark brown orbs grew purple once more, pushing his senses to another level, especially his sight. The radius of visibility around him expanded just a bit, enough for him to notice... something.

The Pride Betrain squinted at the object somewhere to his right, moving closer to get a better look. The name for whatever this thing was didn't jump out at him immediately, heck, the closest thing he could call it was a flagpole. But even that was miles off. Whatever it was stood as tall, maybe even taller than a flagpole, Leo couldn't tell. It stretched way past what the combined senses of his Pride-aided sight and the torchlight could make out. Composed of a shade of black just a tinge lighter than pitch black, it disappeared into the abyss above easily. As for the material, he couldn't quite put a finger on it. Literally. The surface of this 'flagpole' looked to be covered with overlapping scales, each of which was home to thousands of tiny barbs, almost indiscernible to the non-Betraite-aided human eye. Leo shuddered at the sight, having learned his lesson on barbs after a failed prank involving a large cactus. Leo's impulsivity was an unstoppable force, but everything barbed was the immovable object.

This could be a great weapon... The overlapping scales seem to point out a bit so plunging this, whatever it is, into a person would make it a lot harder to take out, he mused. Leo was never a weapons guy since a simple Wrath channel decimated anyone and everyone in his way, so weapons seemed useless. But that doesn't mean he wouldn't strike up conversations with other weapons enthusiasts. Those microscopic barbs would lacerate and dilapidate any poor sucker on the receiving end of this. It'd just be a matter of how durable this thing is.

His eyes traced the slim figure of the post, running up and down its silhouette only to meet another silhouette just like it a few meters to the right. Huh. There's another one. Marching over to where the other post stood, he observed the same properties as the first. Scanning the radius of visibility around him, he found yet another post. He continued post-hopping, counting four in total so far when he stopped on the fifth. This one was close to a wall. Unlike the previous room, the wall was devoid of green patches. Hugging the wall with his left hand, Leo traced the room, one that was circular contrary to the previous one yet again. He had circled at least a fourth of the way around the room when he happened upon the mouth of the tunnel he had most likely exited out of. Another third of the room was circled before he came across what looked to be an arching doorway. A set of double wooden doors lined with segmented stone borders loomed over Leo, threatening to squash him underfoot. Or is it underdoor... Anyways. The last third he traversed landed him at a tunnel that looked exactly like Leo's side.

Uninterested, he moved on. The last portion of the room proved to be just a wall, again, nothing interesting. Having circled the entire room, he had counted a total of eight posts, all of which were exactly the same. Leo harrumphed and crossed his arms as if he had any reason to be indignant.

This is boring. I guess the best way to spice things up is a little—his eyes exploded in a fit of black flashes—Wrath, yeah?

The male gathered his strength, but just as he was about to let loose another round of obsidian orbs, Leo flinched. He heard something echoing from the tunnel he had just passed. Oh? Well, what do we have here?







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Rayze Ellings
You don't understand. I'm a physician by choice, not by nature.

I stepped across the threshold and immediately shivered as I felt the temperature drop and humidity rise, like I'd been slapped by an arctic jungle. A threatening blackness stretched in all directions except for a single torch giving off a sphere of warm light, flickering slightly, held aloft by a man.

He was looking at me. Sweet lords.

Nix, you should have seen his eyes. There was a Wrath crackling in them that chilled me worse than the temperature, and I felt my stomach drop. Even from this distance, I could feel his Betrail energy. I'd have called it Pride if it weren't for that distinctive black glimmer—and it takes someone well-practiced indeed to dual-channel.

Luckily, I'd planned for situations like these. Unluckily, that planning included my ring, which, big surprise, was still dead. Why did I bother preparing? I could fix things, maybe, but that required not getting splattered across the walls, which meant it was time to stall.

I put my hands up in a hopefully non-threatening way. "I'm not here to hurt you." I would if needed, of course, but no point in telling him that.

Consider it a blessing. Or don't. It's the same to me either way.
 









Huh. Is that all she has to offer? Is she all this floor has to offer? he mused, eyes still throwing a black tantrum. The dark brown irises beneath the flickering flashes scanned the woman from head to toe for any signs of malintent. Leo tilted his head ever so slightly, dumbfounded at her killing intent, or rather, the lack thereof.

Leo had gotten extremely good at reading people's killing intent. Like, really good. After years and years of being scolded by Father and other prank victims, determining how slaughter-ready someone was became second nature.

Nothing. Literally nothing.

He furrowed his brow, confused as to what shenaniganery the floor was trying to pull on him. But just as quickly as the confusion came, it disappeared right after as he shrugged it off.

Oh well. A floor clear's a clear, no matter how easy, amirite?

"Well, that makes one of us, sweetie. I'm here to do just the opposite."

In a literal blink of an eye, Leo channeled Pride at half force, empowering him enough to dash to the nearest 'post' or whatever it was. Gripping the torch with immense strength, he smashed it into the post, intending to break off the clothed tip of the torch. Imagine his surprise when the torch remained very much intact and the post was the one that broke.

Shoot- Plan B!

Unintentional pun. Leo jumps back, simultaneously shooting a midnight black orb in time with the falling piece of post. The orb came into contact with the ground just as the broken post fell perfectly in launch trajectory— BOOM.

A shockwave rippled throughout the room and a smirk manifested on his face as everything else went exactly as planned. The post flew through the air like a javelin, sailing straight for the head of the sad excuse of an enemy. Leo scoffed at the scene, knowing how overpowered Pride was with the mental boost coupled with the sheer strength of Wrath. Did he care about the detriments? Fat chance. Does he know about them? Fatter chance. Did he notice the blast was sending Leo a bit further than he expected? Even fatter chance. Was he gonna like having millions of barbs snag into his clothes and his behind? Fattest chance.

He was too fixated on the magnificence that was his makeshift javelin cannon, and thanks to it he couldn't avoid the semi-fall to his Pride. Seconds later he shouted in pain as barbs dug through cloth into bare skin, each prick multiplied tenfold because of his Pride. Instinctively, he cut the channel, resulting in a very stuck, very vulnerable Cleonel. Frantic thoughts were sent racing through his mind as the mental clarity provided by Pride vanished. Accompanying those thoughts was a tornado of limbs, trying to somehow free himself from his barbed post prison.

GODAMMIT- It's fine, I've cleared the floor so another Wrath ball will get me outta he-

His thoughts were cut off and his jaw dropped as he looked over to confirm his kill, only to catch his javelin curve upwards, steering completely clear of his target.

Wh- H- HOW? That was perfectly calculated!

Frustration started to build up inside, indicative of a childish Leo throwing a tantrum. He hated it when things didn't go his way. Any person who knew how Leo's tantrums went would've already cleared the area a long time ago, knowing fully well what was gonna happen next. Leo forced his strength into a spell he conjured up over the years of Wrath and Pride, a spell that could only be described as a self-destructive, get-out-of-jail-free button. Various shades of black appeared on Leo's skin like a subtle sheen, each glimmering like a glass in the sunlight. He decided not to channel the Pride half of the spell, opting to go for sheer power in this cast.

Three. Two. One.

BOOM.







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Rayze Ellings
You don't understand. I'm a physician by choice, not by nature.

—The girl pauses again. She doesn't notice, but her brow is furrowed from dark realization, her gaze unfocused, gray eyes angled towards the tombstone.—

I . . . almost died right there. I did. I really did. One moment, I was saying some placating word, and the next he was firing a projectile towards me, which streaked high above my head. I'd assumed he was showing off his prowess (as he does) and trying to intimidate me. But, looking back . . . no. Leo wanted to kill me.

—Her face is tense. The unchanging expression belies the mental churning behind it, pieces clicking together like unhealthy clockwork. She blinks once. Twice. Thrice.—

You want to know the strangest thing? It hurts. I doubt he even remembers our first encounter, and, logically, there's no reason not to attack. And yet it hurts. Odd.

But I digress. After bracing myself for a sharp impact that never came, I opened my eyes to find the torch on the ground and the man a good distance away, likely pushed back from whatever explosive force he'd used. I still had a soft ringing in my ears from it. Despite the disorientation, I noticed the tell-tale shadow light of Wrath and froze. Not a good sign. Never a good sign.

Believe it or not, my first instinct was to stop the channel—not because he would try to kill me (though he likely would) but because I'd seen the horrible effects it had on people, and that level of Wrath was likely enough to leave some permanent scarring on his soul. I instinctively channeled Charity onto him, forcing everything I could into the Betrail connection between us: worry that Wrath would hurt him, a reluctance to attack anything, calmness to alleviate any adrenaline-fueled actions.

My ring didn't so much as spark in reaction, sadly, but years of practice had allowed me to focus on even unfamiliar targets from a distance. I knew I had some effect because I could feel a sudden increase in bloodthirstiness and, as an odd pair, indifference towards Wrath. But it wasn't enough. I felt with some Betrail sense in me the sudden compressing of Wrath in the Tactile world before it burst with an awesome power. I once again shielded my face, absolutely not praying to the gods that I was out of the blast radius.

Consider it a blessing. Or don't. It's the same to me either way.
 









Leo's Wrath tantrum (or Wrathum Tantrum as he likes to call it) worked exactly like he hoped. Everything a half an arm beyond arm's reach was completely vaporized, everything within 5 strides was hit by an intense shockwave, and everything further than that witnessed the sheer power that was Wrath. (By some unknown miracle called author's tyranny, his garments remained unharmed.) Accompanying the jet black blast, a guttural roar emanated from every crack and crevice of the room, bringing waves of fear and somehow, awe with it.

How dare she! Of all Betraites, she uses Charity. Now that's just insulting.

He didn't like that at all. Not one single bit. His Pride was literally and figuratively wounded, and damn, did he want retribution.

Screw javelins. Back to the basics, shall we?

To prove his point, he once again switched on both of his Betraites, bringing the power levels to a level or two below his usual power levels when in jousts or duels.

She's not much of a threat, having revealed Charity as her Betraite.

The bare thought of such a Betraite being used on him summoned musty flavors in his mouth and dust in his nose; the Wrathum Tantrum was the sneeze used to expel such unwanted intruders. When the aftermath of the explosion subsided, pure rage seethed and lingered in the air. The black sheen from before seemed to churn with a subtle maroon, mirroring the Betrain's mood. No longer did he see this as a floor he had to clear. No longer was she a non-threatening opponent he had to take down. No longer was he playing around.

"Good. Shield yourself. Let me show you how your efforts, however weak they may be... are in vain."

Midnight replaced his eyes as a Wrath seeped from fingertips, coagulating into a tiny floating orb inches away from his palm. His now abyssal eyes disappeared beneath his eyelids, almost as if he was pretending to be human, as if he was averting his eyes to the life he was about to take. before taking a deep breath in and out. Two seconds later, the Wrath orb was sailing straight through the air, dead set on its target.

Dodge this.

Sadly for his opponent, dodging wasn't an option. The orb blended in the darkness around it, seeming to weave in and out of reality. Even if she managed to see it, there was no way she'd be able to move out of the way in time.

Gotcha right where I want y-

Sadly for Leo, luck wasn't on his side. Unlike Pride and Wrath, the tower definitely wasn't. What could only be described as hell spawn dropped from the ceiling, swamp green jaws agape. What Leo thought were posts of some sort from earlier suddenly creaked into motion, all moving in unison as that thing plummeted to the center of the room. Some posts started to carve paths as they moved to that intersected with Leo's position, but Pride automatically moved him out of the way. However, even with such a powerful Betraite aiding Leo to the best of his ability, he still couldn't get quite a clear image of the monstrosity.

What he did get a clear image of was the thing's dark green maw open wide and slam its hideous jaws down on his mid-flight Wrath orb. Y'know, like it was breakfast. Like it was a peeled, boiled egg sitting on a plate.

That was enough for Leo to floor the pedals, but something stopped him. Whatever gobbled up his attempt at murder, it now seemed to be staring intently at him, like it was studying the next boiled egg and the best way to eat it.

Preferably, not at all.

Leo prepared himself, shutting off all Wrath connections immediately and boosting Pride just a little bit. But no amount of Pride alone could help him here. He knew it the moment the maw opened up once again, its shade of swamp green evolving into something far more sinister. Far more... familiar.

That's- that's Wrath. That's my Wrath.

Fear and insecurity started to bubble up inside him. Ironic, given he scoffs at the faces his opponents make when he pulls out Wrath in a duel. He hated how he felt but his entire body couldn't help it as he stared into a billowing cloud of black.

And then the bubble popped.

RUN!!

Leo did just that. He ran straight ahead. Straight towards the enemy, like a complete idiot.

Never run from a duel. A single Wrath hit is enough to end anything.

The set of jaws barely visible in the light seemed to tilt its head in confusion, unsure why this puny human was running towards it. Perhaps, to it, its food was giving up? In response, what Leo can now assume were its appendages jerked into motion, attempting to stab into its food. Pride did its job superbly, weaving and dodging every barbed pole thrown at him. His attention dashed from incoming danger to danger, completely absorbed in the moment. Sadly, that was Leo's downfall. He failed to notice the shifting smoke flowing out of the creature's maw, now completely agape. Similar to his own spell, the smoke condensed into a single point as waves of Wrath pulsated from it menacingly.

Leo immediately picked up on the familiar energy. He bolted towards the maw, knowing full well how dead he was if that spell was completed. Whatever this thing was, it was channeling Wrath at a level as powerful as Leo's. And that orb? That orb had enough Wrath to kill Leo on the spot.

Well then, I'm just gonna have to kill it before it kills me.

The deep purple shades that tinged Leo's eyes started to glow with a negative light, indicative of a dual Betraite channel.

Wrathful Pride, do your thing.

He hadn't even put his Betraites on full throttle and yet a Wrath orb simply appeared at the tip of his fingers, following a finger snap.

Never ceases to leave me speechless. The old man was right, Wrath and Pride are the two most powerful Betraites after all. I completely bypassed the channel time of this spell.

That quick second saved by foregoing the channel time put our Wrath user in a favorable position. The monster was still channeling his orb.

YOU'RE DEAD.

Leo pridefully dashed to the maw of the creature, closed his eyes, and plunged his arm forwards with all his might.

And when the sounds of what he could only assume was the creature's blood reached Leo's ears, the Betrain couldn't help but feel triumphant.

See? Nothing I can't handl-

But to his dismay, pain was felt quickly after. Time slowed to a crawl. His vision drooped towards the area that pain seemed to radiate from, utterly mortified to see a claw clamped onto his forearm. His eyes frantically pranced around his outstretched arm, watching as his veins turned a sick green mixed with strands of black, slowly spreading outwards from the claw's pincers. The Wrath orb he prized himself on was now reversing back into his fingers, a telltale sign that the spell was unused. Then he saw the hair's breadth that stood between his fingers and the creature's body... He was so close.

A split-second earlier and I would've killed it...actually, no.

He wasn't even close. Why? The thing was without a body. He couldn't see it before from far away and minimal light, even with Pride, but here? The dim light that emanated from the creature's maw and the short distance between the two was enough for him to get a good look.

And if Leo were to be honest, he was disappointed. The monster resembled a giant spider. The claw (pincers if we're going with the spider narrative) that held Leo in place had its partner, poised in front of the body of smoke; incidentally, this is what the brunet mistook for the monster's jaws. Eight legs "connected", well, connected wasn't the right word. They floated in the air, surrounded by a translucent body of smoke that seemed to suck everything around it in. He knew that as he felt a pull akin to a sea's undertow. Calm. Silent. But very deadly.

YOU SAID IT YOURSELF. IT'S DEADLY! GET AWAY FROM IT!

Involuntarily, Leo tried to throw punches at it while shaking his arm free, but it was all in vain. The claw held him fast and the slimy green hues were quickly traveling up his arm. He couldn't throw another Wrathum Tantrum for some reason, perhaps he was too weakened or unfocused due to the vice clamp on his arm. Then it struck him.

Wait, why're my channels dead?

The Betrain focused on his free hand, willing Wrath to appear. Nothing. He tried boosting his Pride, but it only hurt him further as his heightened senses multiplied the pain tenfold. He shut off the channel, leaving himself weak, vulnerable, and oh so human. Did he care? Nope. Leo kept thrashing, knowing full well he'd rather go out a troublemaker than a willing victim. The monster didn't seem to appreciate the fact that its prey was indignantly resisting consumption, but all of Leo's efforts were inconveniences at best.

That wasn't the worst of it. Like a toddler playing with its food or a psychopath looking to crush his victim's hopes and dreams, the spider tightened its grip further. Not enough to sever a limb, but enough to break a bone. The sound of a snapped arm followed by Leo's scream of agony filled the room. The monstrosity started rotating its claw, putting the brunet through even more torment, enough to force him down on a knee.

A look of pure hatred strong enough to conjure up a figment of Wrath appeared on Leo's face, defiantly glaring at his opponent. But at this moment, he knew this was no longer an opponent. It was a victor; he was the loser. And that fact stung him almost as painfully as the spiky claw in his arm.







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Rayze Ellings
You don't understand. I'm a physician by choice, not by nature.

My next memories are mostly a blur. I remember seeing some flurry of motion, mostly flashes of muted colors and writhing shapes, but not able to make sense of anything, as if I were watching things underwater. I remember a sharp, high-pitched whine in my ears—all other sounds being oddly silent. And I remember a strange sense of detachment from the world. I honestly don't know how long I was like that; I was barely conscious as it was. And I was lucky. Had I been standing just a few feet closer to Leo when he threw that Wrath, I would've been knocked clean catatonic, if not worse, so hallelujah for slight incapacitation.

And then, like being jolted awake from a dream, a horrible, primal scream broke through the haze surrounding my mind, and I had a moment of clarity. My eyes fixed on a figure trapped between something akin to pincers, and exactly one instinct took over: protect. You were right, Nix. With enough years of practice, even I could feel that urge to help without the need for rational thought. I'd seen my fair share of horrors in the medical ward, but even then, it took excruciating circumstances to cause a human, of all things, to scream like that, and it triggered some deep, visceral part of me into action. I was on my feet before I was consciously aware, barreling straight towards that man.

I noticed a few things only in fragments as I approached—his clothes, soaked-through with sweat; a wild, almost insane look to his eyes; my own ragged breathing. I grabbed him around his trapped arm and channeled Charity. No words. Just a wish, the will for him to live and be strong.

I gasped as I felt the channel take hold. My ring usually amplified the effect, but with it sitting lifeless, much more of my own vitality and strength was funneled into restoring him, and only my long years as a physician let me override the reflex to let go. That shock, however, gave me the final push to finally snap back to my senses. I had just leapt to the aid of the man who, only moments before, had tried to kill me. And I was standing under the giant frame of some carnivorous beast that, judging by its limbs and aura of life-sucking Betrail energy it was exuding, might well be an oversized species of furachnid.

I didn't know which was worse.


Consider it a blessing. Or don't. It's the same to me either way.
 
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Well, this is the worst way to go.

Cleonel Sebastian had thought of his last days in this world a few times, only when he was really really really bored with absolutely nothing to do. He never really delved too deep into the topic because whenever it came up, immediately he knew he could blast his way out of the situation. But out of all the ways he had thought of, dying at the claws of some vile insect only to be ended by his sad excuse of an opponent.

With his dying channels of Pride, the incoming footsteps of his opponent pounded on the stone floor, echoing with what sounded like triumph. He didn’t bother to look at his impending defeater instead fixating his hate-filled gaze on the abomination in front of him. While he knew the other human in the room was undoubtedly capitalizing on his helpless situation, this thing was just toying with its prey. Otherwise, he would've been a tasty snack a long time ago.

Eyes on me, evilspawn. I’d rather die by her hand than your... claw.

Time seemed to slow down as the other person drew nearer, slowing to a crawl as she made contact.

What method of slaughter shall you choose, desperado?

The lass was just about Leo’s height, so anything was up for grabs.

Neck crack, carotid slice, side chest stab. I see no blade though... Unless it’s a hidden blade.

Granted, Leo was on his knee, but still much was up for grabs. But when the gal wrapped around Leo’s trapped arm, every lethal possibility disappeared into thin air.

Wh- Are you without intelligence or battle knowledge? There aren’t many ways to end a life on a nonessential appendag-

Leo tensed as her warm fingers firmly gripped around his arm, thoughts cut off as he was caught off guard. It wasn’t her warm touch that surprised him, it was how his vitality was very quickly replenished soon after. An involuntary smirk etched itself onto Leo’s face.

Fool.

Wrathful Pride seeped into his eyes, replacing every white and brown hue with the darkest of blacks and most dangerous of purples. His once hateful stare was now replaced with two emotionless voids, each still fixed on his target. The hues churned and bubbled like a witch’s cauldron as immense emotion pulsated through his very being. They started flowing outwards as if whatever was being cooked inside the cauldron was now overflowing, oozing through every vein and artery that snaked across his skin.

When the darkness reached the arm being feasted on by the creature, it pushed back the sick green, retaking the black’s territory. Leo stood there, motion and emotionless, evil smirk frozen on his face. He watched with no reaction as his Betraites recolored his veins before traveling up the monster’s claw.

Greed. Such a pathetic Betraite. You want a feast? Feast on this.

Shadows danced across Leo’s face as the behemoth in front of him twitched and wrenched with every passing second. The dim green light that floated in front of him flickered and coruscated, no doubt a side effect of greedily sucking on his Betraites.

Die. Disappear to the depths of whatever lies after death. You have no place here.

With that final thought and a final freezing twitch, the arachnid’s life force was cut. The billowing smoke wafted into the air, each leg toppled to the ground, and the claws dropped like rocks. All that was left of the monster lay there, unmoving and unassuming.

And now... this fool.

Leo got up to his feet, standing a full head above the lady. His chin automatically drifted upwards, giving her the vain, sideways gaze he gave everyone else.

Without even bothering to turn to her, he muttered, “You should’ve killed me when you had the chance.” He brought up his hand to his side, poised to snap his finger and summon yet another Wrath orb. “Many hard feelings, yes? Now die. I’ve got a tower to climb.”

He snapped his fingers... and promptly blacked out.







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Rayze Ellings
You don't understand. I'm a physician by choice, not by nature.

I was supposed to be dead.

He was supposed to be dead.

The monster was supposed to be dead.

That's two truths and a lie, dear. I'll leave you to decide which ones are which. You see, had I come across that arachnid-like beast on my own, pincers strong enough to snap bone, legs like elongated spears, I would've tried some tactical planning. It's no secret: a human—even a Betrain—versus an enlarged furachnid simply doesn't stand a chance. And, yes, Nix, it was a furachnid. I had trouble believing it because it was so massive—the ones in the wild never grow larger than a crab—but its green blood and Betrail aura made it undeniable. Its venom can be used to create incredibly debilitating poisons to Betrains, assuming one had enough money or the expertise to synthesize it himself ...

Ah, I forget who I'm talking to. You already know this.

The point being, I would've tried to plan something to defeat it that didn't require brute strength. Not face it head-on. That would be idiotic. Unless, of course, you happen to know how to channel Wrath at intensities that can overwhelm a creature specifically designed to absorb Betraites, like popping a mosquito by forcing it to drink too much blood. I haven't studied much on furachnids' intake capacity, but even ballpark estimates say it would've taken enough Wrath to instantly kill a group of men.

Keep that in mind. Almost instantly after channeling Charity into this man, I saw color rush back into his face. The effect was remarkable, actually. Where there had been a feeble, broken person was now someone with a dark rage in his eyes and a vitality to match it; and with a burst of black light that I would've deemed impossible had I not seen it myself, there was a violent pulse, an inhuman screech, and then sudden silence. The air smelled of charred hair and sweat.

The furachnid was dead. Just like that.

I stared in bewilderment at the man whose arm I was still gripping, my fingers tight from shock. He let his gaze linger a moment at the beast he had just felled, then rose to his feet, still facing it. I let go as he stood. I'd needed to touch him to start the channel, but now that it was going, I could keep it open so long as I stayed close. He was ... taller than I'd expected. Messy, unkempt brown hair. Noble posture.

"You should've killed me when you had the chance."

I blinked. He'd said it so nonchalantly, I thought I'd misheard him. When his head turned in my direction, though, and I saw the glint in his eyes, I felt my throat constrict. He knew he could end me.

As he stared at me with that sideways glance, I couldn't help but notice a nasty scar that ran down his face. My attention was then immediately drawn to his hand, which he was bringing up into a familiar position: fingers poised to snap. Wrath. "Many hard feelings, yes? Now die. I've got a tower to climb."

At which point the rational part of me finally sputtered back to life, and I cut off Charity. I felt an instant surge of vitality flow back into me at the same time that I saw his body slump and hit the ground, unconscious.

Well. That was another crisis temporarily averted.

It took me a few moments before my breathing pattern returned to normal, and I took that time to analyze the situation. The furachnid in all its Betrail glory was dead on the floor, dark green puddles slowly growing under it. The only source of light was that small torch on the floor. And the man? Let's talk about the man.

He'd used Wrath to kill the monster, but unless my memory failed me, he'd also been channeling Pride earlier. He was likely proficient in them both, then. It was odd for someone so young to have such a strong grasp on two Betraites like that, but perhaps he only seemed young?

I crouched down and inspected him further. If he really was the Wrath user he appeared to be, it would show; and a quick check of the veins on his arms confirmed those exact suspicions: they were a deep hue, almost black, noticeable even in the dim light. I would've told him he was beyond saving if he'd shown up in our ward. Frankly, I wondered how he'd arrived here in this condition at all. Combined with his earlier use of Pride, it was a miracle his Fall and overuse of Wrath didn't knock him clean dead after that fight.

He was supposed to be dead. Two truths and a lie.

Now, I was wrong about this next part, but you'll have to forgive me for making what I'd presumed was a logical conclusion. In all my studies of the tower, I had never once come across any indication that two people could exist on the same run. Not once. Even people who entered together found themselves mysteriously separated after stepping through the threshold. There seemed to be some malignant force at play that kept people away from each other. It almost makes sense. With a supposed wish at the end, it might've been too easy with multiple people attempting the same run.

There is a momentary pause before a small grin appears on her face.

Lords, did I just say it would be too easy?

Even gone, you still distract me too much for my own good. Returning to my earlier point, there was no evidence suggesting that the man in front of me had actually come from outside the tower. I'd assumed—I'd actually assumed—the furachnid and the man were to be the challenges of the room but that something had gone wrong and they'd ended up fighting each other instead of me. I'd thought it was a mistake. Oh, lords, I'm sorry, but that sounds so funny to me now.

See, I thought I was being clever. Why not use the mistake to my advantage? I'd stumbled across an overly-powerful Wrath Betrain that was supposed to have killed me but which I could now use to help me clear the future floors. Or at least the ones involving combat. It'd be a difficult persuasion, but with him being mostly dead, I imagined I could make it work.

I turned my attention back to him. Gently, I placed my hand against his forehead. Cold. The rest of his skin was clammy as well, and his breathing had grown erratic and shallow. He was, without doubt, close to death—and likely would die if I didn't step in to intervene. Some part of me wanted to begin intensive care measures and nurse him back to health—we'd seen worse in our ward—but I knew that, unless I had some bargaining chip, there would be no reason for him to listen to me. So instead of channeling Charity and dumping as much health and vitality as I could manage, I only opened a small channel, the barest of trickles that would stabilize him and bring him back to consciousness. I had to fight the urge to stop his pain. He needed to know that I was the one in charge.

After a few moments, his breathing became regular again, and his eyes flickered open.

I was, at this point, seated on the floor next to him, my hand still on his forehead, a gentle yellow glow now also emanating from my own eyes. "Be very careful. You're in a precarious situation. Attack me, and you die. Run, and you die. You may not be trained in Charity, but if you focus, you should be able to feel the small influx of energy coming from me, and it's currently the only thing keeping you from death. I don't want you dead, but I'm not opposed to it. The fact that you are indeed alive right now should be enough for us to have a conversation, at the very least."

Now the important part. "I have a proposition for you."


Consider it a blessing. Or don't. It's the same to me either way.
 
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Oh god.

Cleonel Sebastian couldn’t help but feel anything other than the twisting and turning of his stomach. Heck, he was surprised he could feel anything at all.

Tell me it ain’t true...

Certainty had filled his heart when he blacked out, absolutely sure that Death had finally caught up to him. The proverbial light met his eyes, replacing the certainty from earlier with something unprecedented.

Ease.

So, what now? Heaven? He paused and thought about it, Nah, it’s hell for me.

Leo’s anticipations for what he expected that afterlife to look like were, well, reaching the heavens. But when the light quickly faded and he came face to face with the girl from earlier, he couldn’t help but feel... disappointed. Until she decided to open her mouth. He could see her mouth moving and he registered words in his ears, but whatever she was rambling on and on about went right over Leo’s head. He didn’t give a damn as sheer hate was already bubbling inside him and he made sure she knew.

How dare she talk to me in such a manner? You think you’re any match for me?

He was about to launch himself out of the way with Wrath, but when he noticed she was literally within arm’s reach, he couldn’t help but feel...

Prideful.

Without ever separating eye contact, he willed Pride to manifest in his being whilst sitting up in one fluid motion. Purple flames splashed in his eyes... and immediately sputtered out. The failure to channel his Betraite was most likely due to lack of life force, and the repercussions were painful. Leo immediately coughed up blood and fell flat on his back, his regret growing with every passing second. His eyes threatened to roll back up into his head as thoughts raced throughout his mind.

IDIOT. Her eyes are literally glowing yellow. AUGH! Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He had failed to notice them before. Two yellow orbs seemed to iridesce behind her eyes. Very soft, but it was there.

“Ugh, Charity Betrains. You good-for-nothing lot disgust me, hiding behind allies and letting others do the dirty work.”

Bad mistake.

Out of nowhere, a wave of extreme exhaustion washed over him. A wave so intense, Leo could feel his life force start to give in. He started to gasp for air involuntarily, suffocating as his lungs grew too weak to breathe.

“This good-for-nothing Betrain and her Betraite is all that stands between you and the afterlife. You answer to me, got that?”

He tried to shout in surrender but he couldn't force any air out of his throat, instead limply slapping his fist on the frigid stone beneath him. Leo tried to meet her eyes but he could barely keep them open, only recognizing the yellow glow in the corner of his eye, this time dimmer than ever. Whether that was because of his eyes blurring up from the tears or if it was her purposefully weakening the channel, he didn't know. All he knew was that she was in charge.

He moved his head as best as he could to the motion of a nod, only to come up gasping for air as vitality ran through his body once more. It wasn't enough for him to attempt to channel either Pride or Wrath, but being able to taste sweet air was satisfying enough. He could only grateful be that the lass recognized his head movement as a nod.

She's not playing around. She's got that same look Father did when he wasn't putting up with me.

He tried to steady his breathing, inhaling and exhaling deep gasps of air before he mustered up his reply.

“Fine. This better be good.”







the influencer



leo.








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♡coded by uxie♡
 

Rayze Ellings
You don't understand. I'm a physician by choice, not by nature.

“Ugh, Charity Betrains. You good-for-nothing lot disgust me, hiding behind allies and letting others do the dirty work.”

For someone who had just been revived from death, he was showing a lot of nerve. I felt more than heard a tiny voice in the back of my head. Oh? Is this how we're playing? A small flash of frustration ran through me, and I cut the channel right then. With surprising speed, his face turned again to an ashen gray, eyes hazy, and I found myself talking before I'd processed what was happening.

“This good-for-nothing Betrain and her Betraite is all that stands between you and the afterlife. You answer to me, got that?”

He nodded. Or I presume he did, given his state. I strengthened the channel again, and I heard him gasp softly as his lungs filled with air. Even standing taller than me, he ... really wasn't looking great. Threatening to end Charity to get something out of him isn't exactly a Charitable thing to do, and, in all honesty, I was surprised I'd said what I'd said. I didn't recognize the traces of Greed still affecting me after the door had been opened on the last floor.

"There isn't an easy way to say this, so I'm going to speak bluntly: I'm asking you to go against what you're supposed to do. I know you were intended to be a challenge for this floor, but if you're similar to human in more than appearance, you'll have a will to live. I'm offering you a chance to live longer." I very nearly said "a chance to leave this tower" but caught myself before I mentioned it. I'd assumed the Tower had created him, and I certainly didn't want some demonic spawn running around outside.

"You're strong, I continued. "Wrath and Pride have an interesting dynamic—dangerous, yes, but a long lifespan likely wasn't in your design. I don't expect all future floors to involve combat, but strength will be useful in most circumstances, I imagine, so I'm proposing you help me advance a floor or two. After that, you should be strong enough to do as you will."

I was still locking eyes with him. With a little more hardness in my voice, I finished, "It bears repeating that any attack on me results in your death, too."

Consider it a blessing. Or don't. It's the same to me either way.
 









“Fine, this better be good,” Cleonel Sebastian grumbled. He’d stand up to at least save any dignity he had left, but he hadn’t fully recuperated from the events prior to his humiliating defeat. Oh boy did he hate it. He knew it’d take a lot longer for this purposefully pathetic Charity channel to get him completely fixed, and even longer considering the upcoming floors.

To make his life just a smidge more annoying, the lass spoke, "There isn't an easy way to say this, so I'm going to speak bluntly: I'm asking you to go against what you're supposed to do. I know you were intended to be a challenge for this floor, but if you're similar to human in more than appearance, you'll have a will to live. I'm offering you a chance to live longer."

Go against who what now?

Leo knew he wasn’t exactly the brightest bulb in the room but he was pretty sure this lass was speaking in riddles. Not just one riddle, she had an entire Riddler and a half in that brain of hers, evident by some peculiar monologue that followed her previous statements. Did Leo bother to listen? Nope. Did he bother to make snarky remarks about her? Yep.

Good heavens she can run her mouth. I’d be fine if she was the silent type but no, I’m chained to Miss Chatterbox. Stuck with her for who knows how many more damn floors, each of which I’d probably be forced to blast through, not that it’d be much of a problem, of course. Heck, I wouldn’t mind if there were hundreds more. All the more to flaunt my excellence to His Excellence when I’m done here. All I have to do is deal with this—

”—It bears repeating that any attack on me results in your death, too.”

“Whatever. Be grateful whatever god of fortune smiled upon you today wasn’t a god of death instead.”

Sadly for him, his plans would have to change. Now he was this puppet to what he could only assume was a Betrain conjured up by the tower— Then it clicked.

If she’s a part of this floor, why’s she planning on climbing the tower like me? Only someone outside the tower would... Ahh, she’s a challenger too. Didn’t realize you could run into other challengers inside the tower itself. Well, this might be even easier! If I need a test dummy to check out a corridor that could very likely be trapped, I’ve got one.

As if he wasn’t on the brink of death held by the collar of his shirt, thanks to this Charity-channeling ‘test dummy’. On the bright side, every second that passed reformed Leo’s constitution. It wasn’t much, but in the span of the two’s interaction, Leo was now able to prop himself up on his arms. Pretty good recovery compared to him being a spineless blob muttering jeers from the floor.

He was feeling much better. Sadly, it was but a temporary feeling as the screeching of rusty hinges echoed from across the room. Back at home, a quick look at his list of mischief would've showed the absence of scraping the copper dining plates with the palace’s silverware as a prank. So the second he heard it, Leo’s fists practically teleported to cover his ears and his eyes slammed shut. To make it even worse, this was rust against rust, more akin to a banshee’s scream than anything else. The entire room reverberated with the doors, an eternity passing each second it screamed.

Eternities later, in what could only be described as act of the impossible, the floor disappeared from underneath a helpless Leo, plunging him into darkness.









the influencer



leo.








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♡coded by uxie♡
 

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