Ch 130. The Culling

As I approached the Fighter’s Guild Secretary, the adrenaline in my veins coursed through my body, making me keenly aware of the gravity of the situation.

The Secretary was a commanding presence, a woman of power and local authority. Well-polished, leather armor hugged her curves with precision, accentuating her well-toned physique, while the gray dress she wore under it lent an air of elegance to her already formidable presence. The guild’s banner hanging behind her, depicting a fierce gold dragon circling into itself against a red background.

As I drew closer to the dark, ornate, grime-covered desk, I saw an identification hexagram flash beneath my feet.

The Secretary looked down at me.

“Grogtilda Lic Misem?” The Secretary inquired. “Rumor has it that you managed to escape Undertown.”

“Ho! Our ratling’s back!” A burly, bald, muscular fighter who stood to her left added his own commentary with a gruff tone.

“A ratling that somehow snaked her way into Nemendias,” the fighter on her right barked. “Me daughter fished Illatius Daily from the river. This one’s face was right on the front page, I swears!”

The Secretary’s lips pursed as she squinted at me. “It is rather curious that our debitor not only failed to report back after her mission, but also managed to escape Undertown and afford attendance to the most expensive Arcanarium in Illatius,” she remarked.

“And who are these two dirty beggars you brought with you?” she demanded, gesturing towards the two females draped in dirty rags at my sides. The women had the mien of those who had been through hard times, faces covered in mud, hair unkempt, and clothes in tatters. They looked at the floor and stood behind me, ignoring the the Guilders.

I took a deep breath. “These are my… trusted associates,” I said. “I assure you, my Lady, there’s a very long story behind my education with the upworlders.”

“Pray tell, Miss Misem,” the secretary demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

“It involves some very powerful and wealthy individuals,” I said, my eyes darting around the room dramatically.

The secretary’s interest seemed piqued. “Explain,” she commanded.

“Not here,” I said, keeping my voice low and urgent. “It would be unwise to discuss such sensitive matters in public. These words are for our Guild owner’s ears. Martoness Limbar is in the tower, yes?”

The Secretary sighed, clearly annoyed.

“She is,” she said after a pause, motioning for me to follow her. “Follow me.”

We ascended a rickety wooden, spiral stairwell that creaked with every step, the sound echoing through the Guild’s halls. As we went past various levels on the spiral, I admired the grandeur of the Fighter’s Guild. The walls were adorned with all manner of weapons, from swords and maces to bows and arrows. Fighters of all shapes and sizes mingled about, armor clanking. The air was thick with the pungent smell of sweat and leather.

As we reached the top of the stairs, the Secretary led me into a spacious room with high ceilings and gothic windows. The room was adorned with dark columns supporting a somewhat grimy ceiling painted with fading gold and white flower motifs. Crystal lanterns hung overhead, casting a warm glow. In the center of the room was a large, long table, behind which sat a plump woman of regal bearing. I recognized her at once as the Guild owner, Martoness Limbar.

Other Guilders garnished in gold robes sat at the table, enjoying their lunch with pretty girls in thin chain-mail serving them fried calamari. Burly fighters stood behind each of the Guilders, eyes watchful and alert.

“Your Grace,” the Secretary said, bowing low. “Our little Adventurer, Grogtilda Lic Misem is here to see you.”

All eyes turned towards me and my two filthy, slouched companions. The Guilders regarded us with mild curiosity and disdain, sizing us up as if we were mere specks of dust.

It was a tense moment, but I stood tall, my head held high, and met their gaze without flinching. I had come too far to back down now.

Martoness Limbar looked up from her meal and fixed me with an appraising gaze.

The aged, plump, balding woman who owned the Fighters Guild stretched atop her ornate leather couch. Her face was etched with deep wrinkles, and her hair was thin and wispy. A red robe decorated with gold stars and dragon-shaped patterns sat on her body. Despite her age, there was a sharpness to her evaluating eyes.

“Ah, the prodigal girl returns!” The woman’s lips curled into a sly smile. “I am surprised to see you here, Miss Misem. I would have thought you stayed in uptown, living a life of luxury and excess.”

“Yes, Martoness Limbar,” I smirked back at my owner, “I’m back… home.”

“You’re the first person in centuries who managed to escape Undertown and mingle with the upworlders,” the woman said. “Do tell me, how did you do it?”

I ignored her question.

“I have returned to Undertown to fulfill… a mission,” I said. “I have come to end those who own me and my family as slaves.”

The crime boss chuckled. “How quaint. And how exactly do you plan to do that, Miss Misem? With your bare hands?” she sneered.

“Yes,” I said.

I tilted my head in the direction of my companion on the right. “Spare the Secretary and the Matroness, obliterate the rest of these scum.”

Baroness Amadea, who had been previously slouching and covering her figure with a shawl, suddenly straightened up to her full height, throwing off the shawl, and revealing her immense figure.

She moved with lightning-fast speed, her hands a blur, striking out with inhuman accuracy at the Guilders. They were no match for her, and with the shard of Eureka powering her, she was an unstoppable force.

The paladium armacus unfurled on my hand. I pulled the trigger and activated the wide repulsor beam.

All around me in a circle the fighters, female servants, and guild magi fell to the floor, frothing at the mouth in pain. Only a few Guilders remained upright. They seemed to possess personal artifact shields that allowed them to resist the repulsor. It didn’t matter as they were no match for the hands of Amadea.

Voltara also threw off her filthy shawl and her armacus unfurled too. She began to bring down the fighters that rushed towards us with the Focused Repulsor beam.

Amadea’s bare hands went through armor and flesh, showering the room in blood. Within moments, the only one left standing was the boss, who was now sweating profusely and backing away from Amadea, eyes wide with fear.

The Matroness attempted to lift her own armacus-covered hand, but she was far too slow compared to the two-hundred year old high-cendai. Amadea appeared next to the Matroness, crushed her fingers, and ripped the armacus off the old woman’s hand. The Guilder wailed, holding her shattered bones.

I let out a barking laugh, as all pompousness and resistance were completely drained from the faces of my owners.

“I have no quarrel with you or your new upworld Masters, Miss Misem!” the Fighters Guild boss hissed. “W-we can work something out. You and your family can be freed, and we can forget all about this!”

“Oh, I don’t just want to be free,” I said, taking a step closer to her. “I want justice. I’m ending the rule of the Undertown Guilds once and for all. I’m here to clean up Undertown!”

“You’re mad… you can’t possibly take down all of the Guilds,” the Matroness croaked, staring at Amadea’s blood-soaked hands. “You cannot change the nature of Undertown as it feeds on the sins of those above us. New filth will always swim to the surface!”

“You are right,” I said. “Undertown is a dirty place, but I’ll be the one to permanently make it nice and spotless. Starting with you.”

The woman’s face twisted in fear as I drew closer, her eyes darting nervously between me and my blood-covered companion.

Amadea let out a snicker. “This is quite fun,” she grinned, licking the blood from her lips.

The Matroness paled further. I smiled maliciously, relishing in the fear that I had instilled in the Guilder.

“Voltara, put my bag down,” I said.

The maid complied, sliding Saccy off her shoulders and placing it on the ground.

The Guilder looked at us in concern, her eyes darting between the three of us and the bag.

“I’m going to keep you alive for a bit longer, Matroness Limbar,” I said. “My Master wishes to have you over for dinner. Bind her.”

Voltara pulled out a length of rope and quickly tied up the woman. She then unceremoniously shoved the Matroness into Saccy and went inside herself.

The knight-maids of Baroness Amadea poured from the bag. The armored maids rapidly filled the halls of the Fighters Guild.

The maids were now wearing hex-bomb collars, primed to slice their necks off at any given moment. Amadea no longer trusted their Vows, since she had learned that they could be used against her by Goddess Eunisii.

“Execute anyone who resists,” Amadea ordered. “Collar the highest level fighters and make them swear allegiance to the new Baroness of Undertown, Grogtilda Lic Misem!”

The fighters didn’t last long. They were capped at level twenty while Amadea’s Vitality-maxing maids were pretty much impossible to permanently injure.

Voltara snapped a hex-collar around the neck of the Guild Secretary. The woman looked up at me, eyes filled with tears of pain from the repulsor pulse.

“This guild and you belong to me now, got it?” I stated.

The Guild Secretary nodded rapidly. My entire life I was terrified of this woman and now she was at my feet, helpless and obedient like a little puppy that had been thoroughly scalded. There was primal fear etched in her gaze, a nightmarish vision of the blood painting the walls, floor and ceiling of the top floor of the Fighter’s Guild that had obliterated her resolve.

“One down, thirty two to go,” I stretched, picking up a fruit from the opulent table and snacking on it.

The curiosity of the guilds to meet the girl who escaped Undertown would be their own downfall.

“You are the kind of playmate I have been looking for for centuries,” Amadea laughed, looking down at me. “Oh how I appreciate a good house cleaning. Thanks for inviting me to your coronation, my love.”

I smiled, feeling satisfaction swelling within me. Tonight I would vanquish the corrupt, corpulent and vile Guilds of Undertown and bring order and justice to those who had suffered under their rule for far too long.

Or so I told Amadea. It was true that I wanted the Guilds out of the way, but I also needed yummy souls. Who but the Guild Bosses of Undertown would provide the spectral sustenance for my dragolich Master to feast upon?