Chapter 90: Conspiracy

  The following days in the 66th-dimension estate passed in an atmosphere of grim toil. Everyone seemed preoccupied with their own affairs, and the earlier jesting felt like nothing more than an inappropriate memory.

  Seweryn remained unconscious, with Bogna serving as his primary caregiver. Both Totius and Franciszek were uncharacteristically silent, and the gathered Noble Brothers hid a strange gravity beneath their outward composure.

  Justinian dedicated every one of those days to training, attempting to break through to a higher level of Foundation Stabilization. Unfortunately, despite his intensified efforts, manifesting another rule remained stubbornly out of reach.

  After a particularly grueling sparring session with Septima, he sat down nearby, frustrated by his own powerlessness.

  "Why won't this damn rule materialize?"

  He had seen that Svarticus’s power was the real deal. To protect his "garden," he needed strength—and his own was something he felt increasingly uncertain about.

  The deviless saw his bitterness but said nothing. Some battles had to be fought alone.

  Shortly after, Nikodem Rudnicki appeared in their training area. Over the last few days, he was the only Sarmatian who seemed to notice what was happening to Justinian.

  Exchanging a glance with Septima—who rolled her eyes with some annoyment before vanishing—the nobleman sat down near the Grim Judge. Justinian sat staring at the distant lake for a moment before finally speaking first.

  "Still no news from the 66th dimension?"

  The devil shook his head. That was the reason the Sarmatians had been so morose lately. None of them had received any word from home in over a week.

  However, he didn't want to poison the boy's mind with those worries. Instead, seeing his ward torn by internal conflict, Rudnicki decided to take matters into his own hands.

  "My dear friend, you’ve been a member of our glorious noble brotherhood for some time now. It’s simply unseemly that you haven’t even had a drink with us yet!"

  Justinian looked at him as if he had misheard. After all, the next stage of the competition was tomorrow; there was no time for such nonsense.

  The devilish nobleman seemed to read his thoughts, however, for he immediately waved a hand in indignation.

  "Cultivation isn't just sitting and meditating—sometimes you need a reset! What, don't you trust that we can enjoy ourselves in moderation?"

  The expression on the Grim Judge's face made it unequivocally clear that he didn't trust them one bit.

  At the same time, in another part of this vast, ancient metropolis, Bahadyr was descending the creaking stairs of a dingy house.

  His security detail waited nearby, ready in case the false pleasantries gave way to an ambush.

  'The formation worked exactly as they warned...'

  In truth, it wasn't a surprise; he didn't think them completely insane. Yet, old feuds carried unresolved hatreds, and he couldn't shake the shadow of caution from his heart.

  'Is this the place?'

  One of the side rooms, unremarkable in appearance, matched the description he had received in the letter. He could feel the faint, permeating aura of the others inside.

  Opening the door to what looked like a simple closet, the Mirror of Illusion instantly shattered, and he found himself in a large, spacious hall. The attention of those already present focused on him immediately, scanning him without a hint of courtesy.

  As Bahadyr took the last of the six chairs arranged in a wide circle without being asked, one of the figures spoke.

  "I don't wish to waste time. You can be certain that I hate you all as much as you hate me."

  The speaker was Ivan, the strongest adept from the 63rd dimension. In response, a penitent devil from the 66.6 dimension—whose name Bahadyr did not know—stirred uneasily.

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  "However, regardless of our differences, the animosity of our religions, or even the upcoming Recategorization War, we have something in common..."

  He paused, looking around the room. Ihor from the 65th dimension was clearly bored. The alchemist from the 62nd dimension wore a polite smile, while Bahadyr had no desire for pleasantries. Svarticus, from the 61st dimension, had finally had enough of the performance.

  "Get to the point already."

  Ivan narrowed his eyes at the remark, but after a moment's hesitation, he did not strike back. Instead, he announced the reason he had invited nearly all the top adepts of the tournament here today.

  "We all serve the Lord of the Hells, represented here by the honorable Observers. Should we not react to their displeasure with the same hostility as we would to the anger of the King of Names and Symbols himself?"

  Bahadyr looked at Ivan with curiosity.

  'Aha. So that’s it.'

  The situation from a few days ago had created an opportunity to do a favor for that Observer. It was clear that punishing the human from the 66th dimension would likely meet with the approval of that mysterious power.

  For all the adepts from the hellish dimensions, it presented a situation that could change not only their lives but the fate of their home worlds.

  'Not to mention that Ivan has his own bone to pick with that human.'

  Not everyone had seen what happened to the young adept when the human achieved 100% on the entrance exam, but the rumors weren't good. On the contrary—they were humiliating.

  'I suspect that if he weren't the son of Voivode Knaz, the Voivode would have taken his life long ago.'

  The confused face of the 62nd-dimension alchemist and the nervous twitching of the 66.6 penitent indicated that news of the lecture hadn't reached them. Ivan soon explained the essence of the matter.

  One reaction caused Bahadyr to slightly raise his thick, snail-curled eyebrows. It was a strangely friendly laugh.

  "Thanks for thinking of us, but we won't be participating. We’re already too old to dream of distant glories like becoming 'Observer favorites.'"

  With that, the long-haired, uncharacteristically smiling devil stood up. Ivan tried to stop him.

  "In that case—"

  "You have nothing to worry about. Our dimension will not interfere in your dispute, and we won't pass any information along."

  Then, the alchemist simply walked out. The reaction of the penitent leader, who had lost a hand in the initial competition, was much more in line with expectations.

  Huddled in his bizarre costume, he immediately began bowing and apologizing. To Bahadyr, the sight was utterly pathetic.

  "We respect your invitation. However, we cannot risk retaliation from the 66th dimension."

  A grimace appeared on Ivan's face as the individual headed for the exit, but he didn't stop him. Everyone present knew the shameful existence of those strange devils.

  Once the sound of footsteps outside faded and the gathered felt the auras of the two reluctant parties vanish from the formation's range, glances were exchanged. Interest was now clearly visible in Ihor's eyes, and Ivan moved to the heart of the matter.

  "My proposal is simple. During the second competition, we will enter a non-aggression pact. If an opportunity arises, our priority will be to strike at the 66th dimension."

  Bahadyr nodded; he still remembered his encounter with Justinian by the lake and would gladly show the human his place. Even in Svarticus’s arrogant gaze, there was approval.

  It seemed the matter would be settled. Then, however, quite unexpectedly, Ihor decided to speak up.

  "I must disagree with that approach..."

  And so, he began to speak. At first, he raised basic concerns regarding the uncertainty of the plan and the excessive role of chance, which Bahadyr found quite reasonable.

  The problem lay elsewhere. That criticism was only the beginning.

  The rest of his speech was completely absurd. In fact, the further he went, the more the faces of those gathered shifted from disbelief to outright anger.

  Svarticus was the first to snap.

  "Are you mocking us with this idiocy?!"

  Ihor shrugged.

  "Believe it or not, I suspect Greedius contacted you as well. The later rumors of his death at the hands of an adept weren't about Felix Faustus at all."

  Bahadyr clenched his fists upon hearing this nonsense.

  A few months ago, the Lord of the Mountain of Envy and Conflagration from the 66th dimension had indeed contacted the Voivode of the 64th dimension. He wanted to negotiate terms for his potential desertion to a new world, which could occur after the conclusion of the Holy Pilgrimage in the 66th world.

  They had even reached an agreement that could have been enacted had Greedius chosen to follow through—after all, he possessed a highly coveted Devilish Virtue of Gluttony—but the devil never appeared. Only later did rumors surface of his death at the hands of a brutally talented adept.

  To Bahadyr, it was obvious it must have been Felix Faustus.

  Ivan, however, decided to push further into the ridiculous discussion.

  "So, what is your proposal?"

  Ihor didn't mince words and soon laid out the details of his plan. With every sentence, the faces of conspirators seemed to grow paler and paler.

  When he finished, silence fell over the room. It didn't take any special ability to guess how insane the presented vision seemed to everyone.

  Svarticus fixed his gaze on him.

  "What if you're wrong?"

  Ihor smiled craftily.

  "Absolutely nothing. But the Observer's favor is within arm's reach."

  Visible conflict seemed to slowly fade from Ivan's face as he sank deeper into thought. This did not escape the notice of the others, especially the Ataman from the 65th dimension.

  Bahadyr on the other hand, began to lapse into terror.

  "Have you all gone completely mad? We will be cursed! Our religions—"

  Ihor interrupted him.

  "No. Despite our differences, we all serve the King of Names and Symbols. Heresy of your branch means nothing here."

  The devil from the 64th dimension snapped his teeth in response to the provocation. He did not, however, dare to test which of them was stronger.

  Finally, Ivan spoke.

  "The competition begins tomorrow. Let's take the evening to think it over. We can finalize the details tomorrow morning."

  He turned to Bahadyr.

  "If someone doesn't want to take part in this venture, it's their loss. It seems there are more than enough volunteers."

  Ihor and Svarticus nodded.

  Between Justinian's powerful enemies, a thread of understanding had been woven.