MM - Chapter 211 - A DISCIPLE IN TRUTH

9 years ago

- Carter City -

Nervous energy thrummed through Raine, a sensation so potent he felt he might vibrate apart. Romaxillions was everything he imagined and more. The floors were polished to a mirror sheen, reflecting the opalescent light from chandeliers that dripped crystal like frozen tears. Not just the floors; every surface gleamed with constrained wealth, even the simplest decorations held a sacred quality that screamed of more credits than he’d ever earned. This was the world he had fought so hard to enter.

To think he had climbed so high, so quickly. The past year—since the launch of ZionLine—had been an unrelenting whirlwind. For him, nearly three years of grueling drills, relentless monster hunts, and a fanatical dedication to self-improvement had transpired. He had taken to the martial path with a desperate hunger, flourishing into someone far beyond the person he had been, beyond the person anyone ever thought he could be.

The most profound changes to his life had blossomed in the last month. For the first time, he was fit, his body honed into a functional weapon. A fire was lit within him, a motivation that burned away the listless dissatisfaction of youth. He was alive, truly alive, and it was all because of the woman who strode beside him now. Vaneese moved with the fluid grace of a predator, a vision of lithe danger in a dress that seemed woven from shadow. After years of being overweight and overlooked, her sudden, intense interest had been more than flattering; it was validating. She was strong, beautiful, deadly, and she had chosen him. What man could refuse such a potent combination?

Their wedding had been a blur, an event that was over almost before he realized they were engaged. The ceremony was small and swift. Due to the tight timing and their lack of clan affiliation, his own family had not been permitted to attend. A brief pang of regret flickered, but was extinguished just as quickly. He had a new family now, one that understood the path he walked, one that had witnessed every struggle and triumph of his journey.

While an auction at Romaxillions was hardly the ideal honeymoon, it would have to suffice. As his formidable new wife often reminded, ‘there was no such thing as promotion for middle-management whiners.’

Together, they moved through the hushed onlookers. A sea of eyes followed their every step, and the pressure they exuded was immense. These were people so far above his station that any one of them could crush him like an insect without a second thought. Yet, as Vaneese had instructed, Raine kept his head high, meeting every curious gaze with painstakingly manufactured confidence.

At the foot of the grand escalators, the man himself waited. He wore an immaculate white tuxedo that looked straight off the fifteenth floor of the Shillids; the fabric drank the light around him and released it more dazzling than it came. He stood with a relaxed posture that nonetheless hummed with battle-readiness: Master Torune. A real master. And not just any master, but a peak master—the first to ever establish himself in the provincial backwaters around Carter City. To Raine, he was a living legend, a figure of unassailable power and authority. A flick of the man’s finger could, and had, ended lives. It took every ounce of Raine’s willpower not to prostrate himself at the master’s feet.

They stopped a few paces away. As rehearsed, Vaneese offered a respectful greeting, accompanied by a manicured bow. Raine barely registered her voice through the frantic drumming in his ears. A sharp, insistent elbow in his side jolted him back to the present. He bowed low, movements stiff with nerves. Shaky thoughts accessed his ZionLine interface, opening a direct trade with the god made flesh before him.

Thanks to Vaneese’s influence, Raine had been given a chance to prove his worth. He had been granted governance over a medium-sized slice of a newby farming zone. Through grueling, relentless effort, he had analyzed and corrected every shortcoming in the employees’ schedules, and shaved off inefficiencies by meticulously reorganizing their personnel across the territory. He had driven his new subordinates to the brink of exhaustion daily, and that was only after putting in nearly double their hours himself. All of it was for this single moment—a chance to impress the man now looking down on him.

“T-thank you for this opportunity, Master Torune!” Raine’s voice trembled slightly, betraying his excitement. “I am beyond proud to relay that production has increased by a staggering twenty-eight percent since you gave me this chance!”

Countless important eyes were fixed on him, but they were insignificant. Only Torune’s opinion mattered. Yet, as Raine looked up, a knot of confusion tightened in his stomach. Despite the triumphant news, the master’s grey orbs practically glowed with a cold, simmering fury.

In a movement too fast to perceive, Torune closed the distance. There was no time to see, let alone block, the polished boot that slammed into Raine’s sternum. The impact ruthlessly tore the air from his lungs. Life became pain. A brief, weightless fuzziness ended abruptly with a deafening crash. One of the priceless, ornate vases decorating the hall shattered as his body collided with its pedestal.

Torune was on him again, moving even faster than Raine’s flying form. “You mean to tell me that you could have been producing more this whole time, and only now decided to get your shit together?!” The master’s voice was a venomous snarl. A second kick drove into Raine’s ribs, sending him skittering across the polished floor amidst the porcelain ruins. “Don’t tell me you’ve been skimming that twenty-eight percent for yourself. How dare you rob those profits from your master! You will pay back every credit, you hear me, worm? Every. Single. One! And that vase, too. I will not be held responsible for the mistakes of utter fucking trash.”

Torune leaned down, face inches from Raine’s, his hot breath a foul promise. “If I see your pitiful, weak body again before you repay me, it will be the last day of your worthless life.”

The man straightened and left. He hooked his arm through Vaneese’s elbow, and together, they ascended the escalator without a backward glance. A wave of snickers rippled through the crowd, bringing the kind of shame that ate at the soul. The powerful elites watched with open amusement as Raine painfully pushed himself to his feet and wiped the blood from his chin, then left the way he came.

Little did he know, this brutal humiliation would not be the exception, it was the new norm. Every time he exceeded expectations, every time he came close to paying off the impossible debt he had just incurred, a similar scene would replay. It was the beginning of a thirty-year, inescapable hell.

Present day, Raine KongRu

- Romaxillions, Carter City -

Raine’s group cut a path through the chaos of the banquet hall. Every eye followed, many drifting to his barefoot companions. 

A flicker of genuine surprise hit Raine as his attention landed on Vaneese. She stood beside Torune, a silent viper at her master’s heel. Seeing her in the flesh was like swallowing ash; every memory of her was poison. She’d made his life nearly unlivable, beat him, abused him, and cheated constantly. She was the antithesis of Mel in every way that mattered. Her comeuppance couldn’t arrive soon enough.

Raine had honestly expected Torune to have disposed of her by now. The Master did not suffer failure, and Vaneese had failed spectacularly on multiple occasions. Raine had carefully schemed to paint her as an incompetent fool, and Pamalaiha’s rampage through CronGate’s safe houses during their pursuit had salted the wound. Millions of lost credits, too many levels to count, and the deaths of hundreds of loyalists could all be laid squarely at Vaneese’s feet.

However, what drew his eye was something else. To survive her daily whims, Raine had been forced to learn every twitch of Vaneese’s lips, every shadow in her eyes, every layer of tone. This woman was not the sharp, cruel, and clever assassin he knew. She stood in a daze, stance so lax as to practically be asleep. She hadn’t even noticed him yet. Her gaze drifted to the corners of the room, a confused furrow to her brow.

Did he drug her? Vaneese is wrong often enough, but she is never confused.

Beside him, Mel sharply drew air through her teeth, hand reaching to a dagger that wasn’t there. Her eyes were locked on the thin-lipped woman who had haunted her dreams since the duel. Memories flashed: a desperate chase up endless flights of stairs, a rooftop encounter that easily could have been her last moments. 

Celeste was equally locked onto the woman, scanning for signs that she’d heard Raine’s thoughts. Relief flooded her when there was no reaction and she exchanged the briefest of glances with Mel. An entire conversation passed between them in that silent, shared moment.

[That woman. Raine’s ex-wife. Our enemy.]

Raine’s path, straight as a gunshot across the room, caused a stir of speculation. The whispers of the crowd were a persistent insect buzz. “Why is the champion ignoring the Mayor and Dosex Clan dignitaries?”

“Is that trio he’s approaching important? I don’t recognize their faces.”

“They look like regular martials to me. Is he going to start another duel already? Our new champion never fails to entertain!”

The comments sparked a realization in Raine. The reason Torune wasn't already drowning in a sea of sycophants was that no one here knew who he was. The master, in all his boundless arrogance, had yet to announce his presence. Raine had watched Torune do the same before; he was waiting, orchestrating as grand an entrance as possible. He could practically see the gears turning behind the bastard’s eyes.

Wondering why I’m here, and why you haven’t heard a peep from your men? Look at you panicking. How cute.

Torune made a move toward a nearby table for another round of drinks. A glimmer of surprise registered on his stony features as Raine adjusted to intercept. The crowd parted before their champion, leaving no path of escape.

Wondering how I know who you are? How many times did you drag me through the mud? Dangle freedom on a hook while laughing in my face? No, I could never forget your face, even after a thousand lifetimes.

Raine halted a few paces from his former master; his face was an impeccable mask that hid his intentions until it would be too late. Mel shifted her stance subtly, positioning herself between Raine and Vaneese. If a fight broke out, she would be ready. Her mistakes that led to that rooftop would never be repeated.

Raine’s arms spread wide. He addressed everyone, though his eyes remained locked with Torune’s. His voice boomed over the din of the hall, a thunderclap that silenced every conversation. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

Vaneese and Marco’s eyes flew wide. A collective gasp sucked the air from the room. Even Constantine’s cynical smirk faltered. Torune’s hand clenched, and the crystal glass he was holding shattered, splashing his knuckles with expensive liquor. Raine gave no one a moment to recover, his voice an impossible-to-ignore shout. “How can the people of Carter not recognize their new overlord?! Master Torune of CronGate, the man responsible for all the blood in our streets, is standing right here, and not one of you is on your knees kissing his feet?!”

A confused and nervous murmur rippled through the crowd. They couldn't tell if this was a satirical attack or a genuine declaration. Torune didn’t immediately respond. He scanned the crowd, gauging their reactions while trying to grasp where the verbal assault was heading. He understood full well that to interrupt an enemy when they were making a mistake was foolish. His inaction cost him dearly.

Raine’s following words made his intentions brutally clear. “Wait,” he feigned a look of dawning horror as he spun to meet the many watching eyes. “You didn't know? The great and mighty Torune—orchestrator of the so-called baptism—didn’t announce himself?” When Raine returned his focus to Torune, his tone was dry and filled with hate. “You must have been waiting for the perfect moment. Too bad I didn’t die to your assassins outside. That would have made for an epic entrance! One hell of a debut! Looks like I ruined everything by letting them fall to their deaths. And now I’ve attracted all this attention, further spoiling your moment.” Raine placed a hand over his heart, expression one of profound, scathing apology. “It seems I’ve made a huge ass out of you. Master Torune, I am truly, deeply, sorry for the loss of your reputation.”

If the people of Carter City didn't know it before, it was now abundantly clear: their champion had a death wish. Wide eyes danced between KongRu and Torune, champion and intruder, each bystander unable to bear the anticipation of what would happen next.

Torune’s rage was a palpable force, a heat that shimmered in the air. He had allowed Raine to exhaust his tirade, knowing that shouting back would only diminish his own authority before he’d had a chance to fully cement it. As Raine finally took a breath, Torune’s moment arrived. There was no need to play games. To debate, or even attempt to convince a crowd, was thoroughly beneath him. There was only one law that mattered. The law of the fist.

“Master KongRu, Champion of Carter City,” Torune’s voice was a low growl, cold and sharp as obsidian. “I, Master Torune of CronGate, challenge you to a duel.” His plans may have been ruined, but putting this upstart child in his place would immediately turn the situation around.

The last thing Torune expected was for Raine to throw his head back and laugh. It was a wild, unhinged sound that echoed through the stunned silence. “Master KongRu?! Who? Me?” He laughed again, a pure, mad cackle. “That’s rich! Pure gold! As fantastical a tale as your worthless fodder thinking they could kill me.” Raine smoothly withdrew his martial identification card. He held it high, spinning in another slow circle for all to see the distinct purple and red of an expert, not the gold and lavender of a Master.

Raine’s voice dropped, becoming dangerously precise. “Are you—a peak master, officially challenging an expert to a duel? That’s… a rather brazen disregard for the law, no?”

“What a farce!” Torune spat. “Your match with Master Jedidiah proved you are no expert. You slander my name and expect to escape unscathed? Pathetic. If you won’t raise your fists to defend yourself, well, that would be fun in its own way.” Master Torune took a menacing step forward. The air no longer shimmered under the duress of his domain: it boiled.

Raine retreated a pace, matching Torune, a smirk on his lips. “No matter what you want to believe, I am still classified as an expert. Attacking me personally would be a direct violation of all three commandments of the Second Declaration. Crimes that would make you guilty of high treason against the United Territories of Amanath.” Raine let the words hang in the air before twisting the knife. “If you were to come after me yourself, that would be a peak master attempting to quell upcoming competition. The victory would be your last, as the death and the dissolution of your clan would follow. Wait…” Raine tapped his chin thoughtfully. “It hasn’t yet been a year since CronGate split with the Enshen Clan. Wouldn’t it be hilarious if your first act while conquering a new city got Grandmaster Pladius executed as well?” 

He roared with laughter again, a sound of pure, joyous malice. His throat burned from the forced mirth, but he couldn't let the mask slip. After defeating a higher-class opponent, a martial was given two weeks to update their registration. The grace period was his shield, a few precious days granted to rising stars, lest they be snuffed out by the powerful. Either Raine advanced far enough to thoroughly crush CronGate in that time, or Astra Infernum would be overwhelmed by a city turned against it.

“Impossible,” Torune hissed, his composure cracking. “You must have cheated on your test. Holding back on an official exam is a crime.”

Raine waved a dismissive hand. “Call it whatever you want. Unless you have proof, they’re just words. I’m not the first expert to kill a master in honorable combat. But I am untouchable. At least, by you.”

Torune wasn’t out of options. His thoughts distilled the declaration’s intent—to further the fighting power of the territories, not diminish it. The law incentivized him to raise disciples to fight the battles that were beneath him. By challenging KongRu, his disciples would grow stronger, or die. And if they failed, he only needed to wait a few days to deal with the nuisance himself.

Raine was no stranger to the game. His gaze slid past Torune, landing on his lackeys. “Of course, that doesn't mean your cronies can't take a shot. Marco Salvatore, my boy!” Raine’s flashing eyebrows were laced with goading familiarity. “Want to try your luck? I’m still injured, you know.” He gave his casted leg a slight shake for emphasis. “Easy pickings. Isn’t that how you prefer it? Attacking the weak, the elderly, the vulnerable? Not that you could beat anyone else.”

A guttural roar ripped from Marco’s throat, and he lunged, veins bulging in his thick neck. Torune’s arm shot out, a steel bar stopping his only living relative. He knew with chilling certainty that KongRu would kill the boy, injured or not.

Raine turned his attention to the thin woman he knew so well. “Vaneese Sinclaire. We’re both experts. Why not take a shot?” Smiling, he beckoned with two fingers. She didn’t move a millimeter. “No? Pity that CronGate is full of cowards.” Instead of cold calculation, her features scrunched into a point.

She’s even more confused? What the hell is going on here?

For Torune, the use of Vaneese’s maiden name landed like a physical blow. The furious confidence in his posture faltered. Birth names were erased upon entering the Enshen Clan. Vaneese had been born into it; there should be no record of her parents outside the clan’s deepest vaults. The name was a secret Raine KongRu should not know, could not know, even Vaneese was ignorant of it. Torune became more certain than ever that a rival within the clan was feeding this whelp information, possibly attempting to sabotage him before he made it big on his own. First, the knowledge of Enshen combat stances, and now this. But why make it so obvious?

Torune’s voice was a strained whisper, “Enough! I may not be allowed to kill you, but if you flap your tongue too hard, even the wind might cut it!”

Raine’s eyes glinted as he quoted one of Torune’s favorite sayings back at him. “How foolish of me. I should have known; the blade tempers in silence, but strikes in thunder.”

Torune froze, unable to breathe as a dozen possibilities for who could be behind all this manifested. Mel filled the deepening silence. She wouldn't wait for Raine to unravel the mystery of his thoughts; she'd poke the wound herself. Her voice cut at Vaneese like one of the woman's many daggers. “You’re really not going to fight? Scared? Or just tired from taking the stairs? You know there’s a docking platform to get up here, right?”

The faceless masses chuckled as even KongRu’s women joined in on the one-sided reputation destruction. Torune’s Baptism might have once evoked fear, but it was quickly becoming apparent that the man himself was nothing special.

Celeste was next; the memory of Raine’s introduction to newbbolwing—allowing them to escape this very woman’s trap—was a still-fresh stain. She straightened, channeling the humiliation into fuel for her redemption. Her voice dripped with aristocratic disdain. “What’s wrong? Don’t like fighting without your army of servants? Or did you actually learn your lesson after the last auction house?”

Pamalaiha completed the assault, her tone eerily pleasant. “I forgot to thank you for the wonderful tour of Carter. You showed me so many interesting places. Introduced me to so many interesting people… to kill.”

With each verbal jab, Vaneese’s confusion deepened into a fog of bewilderment. Raine saw it then. The missing piece of the puzzle clicked into place with sickening clarity.

“A mind wipe!?” His bark of laughter was incredulous. “That’s so like you, Torune. How perfect.” He turned his full attention to Vaneese, voice carrying a note of false pity. “Did you realize he’s been tinkering with your memories? No wonder you’re still alive.”

“M-master?” Vaneese stumbled over her words, but a spark of defiance flickered to life as inconsistencies clashed; her hands tightened into fists, lips slowly inching higher in a snarl that was much more like her usual self. “What did you do to me?”

A tide of furious crimson flooded Torune’s face, so intense it seemed he might finally throw caution to the wind and attack. Raine didn’t care. He was going to hammer the man’s rage until his judgment shattered into oblivion. “To think you’ve got a pet psychic,” he announced to the enthralled audience. “I’m sure PsyCore will be thrilled to learn about that!”

Not that I’d actually snitch. Anyone who wants to attract the attention of PsyCore is an idiot. I’m sure some busybody in the crowd will take care of reporting him.

Raine’s accusation was the final blow. The whispers turned from confused to hostile as the threat of a psychic inquisition threatened the entire city. Torune knew he was in an unwinnable position, lacking an expert who could challenge Raine and legally unable to do so himself. That would change. Only patience sharpens the blade. He grabbed Vaneese’s arm and bodily dragged her along. She didn’t fight his pull, couldn’t fight his pull. A peak master was no ordinary human.

When Torune presented his back, Raine landed a parting shot, voice dripping with contempt. “You send disciples plummeting to their death, coddle cowards, and mind-rape your own woman. CronGate sure sounds like a fun place… to retire early.”

Torune’s shoulders stiffened, but he didn’t turn back. “Your end is not measured in days, but hours, KongRu!”

“I’d say we should settle this in ZionLine,” Raine called after him, “but somehow I don’t think that would satisfy. Look forward to meeting my fists there. Only then, will I finish you here.”

Torune vanished into the hallway containing the auction booths. Raine snatched a drink from a nearby table and raised it high to the stunned onlookers. “To those of you who lost loved ones to CronGate’s butchery, I beg for faith and patience. Astra Infernum will bring vengeance. And to those who think they can walk into our city and do as they wish, know that mockery and death are the only fate that awaits you!”

Amidst raucous cheers, Raine pretended to sip his drink before leading the group toward their own booth. As they walked, he activated his watch. “Morty. Lock down Belehorn. Full siege-mode. No one in or out without my direct approval. I want us off the grid and on emergency battery power an hour ago. Triple-check the reserves and generators, then pull in twice what we need for a month of solo operation.”

The situation was precisely why Raine demanded a headquarters attached to a hypernet node. They could seal every window and door with steelphene and still have full access to ZionLine.

Morty’s synthesized voice sounded loud in Raine’s ear, drowning the chanting of ‘KongRu’ and ‘Astra Infernum.’ “A month is a long time to be under lockdown, Master. Our people are already on the verge of losing morale.”

Raine’s fingers tightened into a fist, a misty, blood-red aura of killing intent momentarily infusing the air around it. “No,” he whispered, voice a low promise of violence. “I’ve only got two weeks. And I wouldn’t want to wait a day longer to end that bastard once and for all.”

Walking behind, Pamalaiha couldn’t look away from Raine’s broad back. She licked her lips, the familiar tingling in her chest had erupted into a raging bonfire.

[My patriarch is… amazing. I cannot wait for the day he so thoroughly dismantles the Noroji.]