Published at 16th of August 2026 8:12 am

Chapter 370: True Threat

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Serrin wandered aimlessly down the streets of the Phantom City, thoughts elsewhere and feet moving on automatic.

He wasnt happy. Within him boiled an ugly combination of uncertainty, frustration, loathing, fear, and more. Earlier, hed run into Xyrrith and Drekhul.

Foolish younger brother Xyrrith had said. Its obvious to all that you want to take part in the Tournament. And if youd only been strong enough to accept what was offered, you would be here in human form, with a Mark of your own, free to do whatever you wish. But instead all you are is the humans tagalong.

Serrin kicked a stone from his path, mandibles twisted in a grimace as the words replayed in his mind.

They were right, in a way, but the idea of that human dying purely so he could have the mans Mark disgusted him. The very thought was abhorrent. He refused. He would not do it!

If he did, he would be no more than his mothers tool. And he knew what she would say. She would say that, at last, he was a true Hornet.

A true Hornet. The words lived in his nightmares, where in the clutch of fevered dream he saw himself standing over bodies butchered in her name, saw his hands painted with their blood, saw his mother smiling at him. At last, you are a true Hornet, she would croon, and Serrin would lurch awake with a cry of horror.

Never. Never!

Yes, he wanted to fight in the Tournament. Yes, hed even assisted Nicolai against those Morvain last week. And though hed refused to actually shoot at any of the Morvain themselves, hed certainly gone to work on the undead and knew that his actions had contributed to the death of that black-robed, black-hooded Morvain.

But that, he told himself, was different! They were far from innocent and defenceless; they were fighters who had chosen to ambush another house. That young noble, Edrinafter interacting with him, Serrin knew he was a good person, and he was glad to have had a role in saving him.

No, there at least, Serrin felt sure hed acted honourably. In fact, part of him wondered whether he should have shot at more than just the dead, taken a more serious role. The Morvain did not seem like good people to him. They reminded him of his own kind, and in his eyes there was no one and nothing more deserving of death than a true Hornet.

But that defenceless human with the Mark

He remembered the first one, when the Queen had attempted to make him take on the form of an earlier captured human. Remembered a large, muscular man with tanned skin, spread out on a table, muscles bunching uselessly against the ties, features twisted in fury and fear.

Ah, you have arrived, the Ripper had rippled, when Serrin, unaware of what this was, had followed the Queen inside. He remembered the touch of the Rippers filthy eyes, and how his exoskeleton had itched at the naked longing obvious within them.

Serrin had been led to stand beside the human, and no one had explained what was happening. But when the Ripper began to attach strange things to him, linking him to the human, hed shaken away with a cry.

What is this?!

You are to take on the humans form and gain its Mark, so you might fight for my interests in the City, had said his mother. It is time, Serrin, for you to become a true Hornet

But the ritual had required his consent, and he had not given it. Little difference it made, he thought bitterly. Hed seen that human earlier that day, or at least, the mans stolen form. It was worn by Drekhul.

He was willing to fight, but he would never do something like that. Never. Serrin sighed, shaking his head grimly. Even though it would limit him, even though he wouldnt be able to take part in the Tournament, even though he knew he was causing problems for Nicolais plans, still, he wouldnt.

With that decision, a wave of calm rolled over him. It seemed a weight had lifted from his shoulders, and clouds had cleared from his eyes. Hed been thinking on this for some time, and now, even if hed made the wrong decision in the eyes of some, he was at least happy with it. These were his principles. Still a little fuzzy, yes, developing and uncertainhe wouldnt deny that. But even so, they were what he had, and they told him hed made the right decision.

Glancing about, he found hed come to the end of a street, where it opened into another running across it. Looking left and right, he realised it was deserted. His wandering had taken him out of the areas of the city populated by busy humans and watchful undead.

His antennae tried to twitch, jerking slightly where they were curled against his head beneath his helmet. He experienced a twinge of unease as he gazed around at the empty streets, the empty windows and the empty rooftops, hearing nothing but the faint and distant babble of busier areas of the City.

Truly a city of the dead, he thought, unease rising as he eyed the silent buildings, all of them fronted with decorations of bone.

He shoved the feeling down, shaking his head, irritated at himself. He was no grub to be running from shadows. There was nothing here but buildings.

Movement on his right brought him spinning around, the spear on his back practically leaping into his hands as he snatched it and stood ready.

Three figures, somewhat distant, had just stepped out further down the street. Without even pausing to think, he ducked back around the corner. From there he continued observing with his Soul Sense, engaging just a couple of the cloaking Symbiotes so as to make his Soul Sense invisible.

He shook his head at his reaction as he did so, chiding himself. It wasnt like him to startle so easily. What was the matter?

The group didnt appear to have noticed him. Theyd turned, now, and were coming in his direction, calm and at ease as they chatted easily. He realised there were actually four, not three. A much smaller figure trotted in front of the others. After staring for a while through his slightly fuzzy Soul Sense vision (noticeably improved since hed risen to Tier 2, but still not as sharp as his eyes) he realised it was some kind of small animal wearing a bulky suit, similar in style to the things humans from Earth wore. Its tail wagged in the air and its tongue lolled out of its mouth. It reminded him of a wolf, only far smaller.

His next realisation was that he recognised one of the three: a young woman walking right behind the tiny wolf. It was that girl from the Tournament, the Summoner.

What was she doing out here in this empty part of the City? And who were these people she was with? One of them was a big, bald man with a very large frame, seeming part excessive muscle and part augmentation. The other was a Cultivator wearing form-fitting black robes and a tall black hat.

They definitely werent just out walking aimlessly, like him. No, the Summoner looked focused, or at least he thought so. His ability to read human expressions was a small and unsure thing. She was moving quicklycoming his way, actually.

He realised that shed soon arrive where he was and hed be revealed, which gave rise to a surge of awkwardness and embarrassment. There was no one else out here, they might assume he was following them or had arranged this to try and meet her. Should he cloak and hide away?

He hadnt got far down that line of thought when the twinge of unease came again, stronger now, pulling his eyes up and around. He realised then why he felt this way. It wasnt just the emptiness, the strange quiet of this place. No, there was something more.

A flicker of movement through a window, then another. A twitch of movement that looked like a Soul Sense tendril rising over a rooftop before quickly ducking down again. A faint ripple that felt almost like Symbiotes being activated.

Serrin knew what to do in this situation, at least. He put his back to the wall and activated all his Cloakin Symbiotes, scanning for enemies.

Thus he was not taken entirely unawares when the air around him took on a familiar ominous red tinge. Hed seen the same when the Morvain attacked the Thrynn. There followed a flicker of golden light in the distance, a faint bubble shape forming, and he knew for certain then that the Restriction had just been lifted, that there would be fighting.

Were they here for him? But why, and who?

No, he realised. This wasnt meant for him, hed just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. His Soul Sense, still peeking around the corner, saw the group in the street were belatedly reacting, pulling weapons and struggling to sort themselves into some kind of order.

Get behind me, behind me! cried the big man, starting toward the Summoner. She was gaping at one of the rooftops, where figures were appearing.

A door burst open only metres away from her and someone lunged out, sword flashing in the blood-tinged sunlight.

###

In a section of the City split from the rest by Heaven, an assassin spawned into a hallway. There was no one behind him, no one in front of him, no one in the rooms either side. There was, however, someone else in his building. They were very near, but one floor down. The expensive software he possessed drew them as a red shape, visible when he looked at the wooden boards of the floor.

He moved forwards, steps entirely soundless, and activated his Symbiotes. Weaving multiple effects into arts, then weaving those arts together, his Soul Sense shifted. It turned heavier and thicker, slower to move but he considered that a minor trade-off, considering what it had gained. He knew the Cultivator below would feel something odd, the ripples arriving as a faint, ominous vibration, but he also knew the Cultivator would struggle to understand what it meant.

Hed found the method he employed to be every bit as effective as the man hed stolen it from had claimed, and so far no one had correctly deduced the minor warning signs it gave off. Everyone will be using this, everyone, his partner had frothed. But I will be the first, at least on this planet! As it transpired, he wasnt the first, because he was dead. Take my Symbiotes, avenge me kill them all! his Soul had cried.

The assassin had indeed killed them all, though not for revenge. That wouldnt make much sense, considering he was the one whod directed them, given the necessary instruction for them to make the kill against his excessively paranoid partner.

But theyd learned too much, and so hed opted to remove them. This Symbiote set truly was something else, after all, and he wanted to keep it quiet. As simple to use as it was effective, which appealed greatly to him. He had no time for the needless complexity of Cultivation, though once hed gained the supplies his partner had intended to use to reach Tier 2, hed invested enough time and effort into the process to ensure a Gold Soul.

His Soul Sense lanced down, pressing through the floor. It took a moment to pass, then resumed its speedy descent. The Cultivator had time to run, might even get out of range if he really tried. But the man didnt bother. He saw it coming and decided to fight back, was willing to take a Soul Sense battle.

The Cultivator reacted with typical shock and surprise as the assassins Soul Sense, which had become inimical to all spiritual things, simply melted straight through his defences.

The Cultivator had just enough time to realise that his only option was to run, but by then it was too late. His Shield dissolved into Oma, and the assassin flicked his wrist.

The monowire he kept curled around his arm unfurled with an electronic hum, then dove through the floor.

The Cultivator below disappeared almost as soon as the monowire touched him. The assassins first elimination.

He retracted his Soul Sense but didnt deactivate the Symbiotes. The faint ripple vibrations the set caused were harder to detect than standard ripples, and didnt spread far. By the time he was close enough for a Cultivator to notice, it was already too late.

He idly wondered if hed scored the first elimination in the competition. He thought it quite likely he had. No surprise there, really. After all, he was the destined winner.

The assassin had been operating in New London for many years now, and hed never met his match, not within his weight class. And even against threats beyond the scalethings no human-born assassin could truly fight, but merely work around, like ASIs, warbots, killbots, or the clan of vat-grown monk assassins collectively known as the Entrerihe had been known to hold his own, punching above his weight class to such a degree that he had managed to escape alive from all encounters with such beings. Of that fact he was justly proud.

He was the ultimate assassin, and he had the notches to prove it. All whod fought to challenge him were dead, transformed into nothing more than monumentstheir lack of existence a silent proclamation of his superiority.

He moved down the hallway, and though his heavy augmentation gave him a weight north of a hundred-fifty kilograms, he made not a sound.

Arriving at the window, he gazed out onto the street below and saw the compound he needed to infiltrate directly ahead. The compound possessed a wall, which was bordered by cobblestone street that was unusually bare, no posts or benches or other such things to break the smooth expanse, which curved away from him to the left and right, following the sweep of the wall. He saw houses either side, following the same curve. There was always at least twenty metres of empty street between the houses and the wall. The assassin recognised this as a kill zone, but was not concerned.

He unlatched the window and slid it open. Small drones rose from a container he wore on his back, flitting outside with a faint buzz.

There was already some Local disruption, but it was not strong where he was. It seemed to mostly be emanating from the far side of the compound. Already he could hear gunshots from that direction.

His body was unmoving, but cameras on his suit flicked around as he took in what was before him. The compound was approximately half a square mile in size, vaguely circular, its boundary marked by a wall. Similar to those of the compounds back in the real city, this wall was not particularly tall, no more than thirty metres. He could scale it with little effort. But a spiritual barrier rose from the top of it, formed a great dome that covered the entire compound.

He anticipated his particular Symbiote set would melt a way through that barrier as easily as it did anything elsethe only problem was that doing so would be loud and obvious, leading to the defenders coming after him. He would prefer to get through silently, if possible. Finding a method of doing so presented a challenge, certainly, but one he would inevitably overcome.

In truth, there was only one factor in this whole competition he considered at all dangerous: the one they were calling the Tournament Berserker. People said he had been known to lose his mind in battle. That he consorted with dark and dangerous spirits. There was a viral clip going around the Earth-born at large in the City, in which this Nicolai had torn someones arms off and raised them up over his head, the blood pouring down and into his open helmet, the blood-soaked shape of his face stretched into a mad grin, laughing in a way that even the assassin had found faintly disconcerting.

However, ultimately it was this clip which had led the assassin to dismiss him. He was convinced that no one who acted like that could be truly dangerous, like he was. Being truly dangerous required calculated and measured action, not mad battle lust. Not to mention, the assassin had taken down far more heavily augmented individuals in the past.

It was seeing him in person that changed his opinion.

For starters, it was clear the Berserke had significantly upgraded. Still, his body was unlikely to be a match for the assassins. Some scans had revealed that he was still largely human in many areas, a puzzling decision. As to his Soul, it was Tier 2 as well, as was the assassins own. This one used many of the tricks of the trade cultivators utilised, and with unusual skill, but that wasnt actually something the assassin was at all concerned about. He had yet to encounter even one Cultivator able to effectively deal with his Symbiote set.

These factors were concerning, but none of them had been the real reason the assassin chose to shift Nicolais threat level, rather it was something deeper. In his time as a killer of men, he had encountered many other dangerous individuals, but it was rare that he encountered one who could truly threaten him. Time and experience had culminated in an ability to recognise such individuals, an ability he had also come to realise was shared amongst those who existed at the rarefied heightsthe peak of the profession, the greatest of killers.

It was visible in how one stood, and where they stood, and what they wore, and the way they moved, how they reactedall of these things and a million others combined into something the subconscious could sense: a fellow master of the craft. Or at least something that approached the true peak of mastery, which, of course, was occupied by only one: himself.

It was this subconscious recognition that led him to consider Nicolai the only true threat in this competition, for he had felt it from none of the others. This had led to a reconsideration of that clip. Most likely, this Berserker image was simply something Nicolai was actively cultivatinga fearful reputation which would more easily allow him to intimidate others, plus dissuade attacks. Perhaps the assassin would see about doing the same, he could recognise a few benefits.

The assassin was not in any way dismayed by the appearance of a true rival. He was pleased. It had been some time since hed encountered such an individual. It was a shame he wouldnt be able to properly kill Nicolai in this competition, but no matter. His victory would be enough to prove the fact which needed no proving: that he was the greatest.

He supposed that ultimately Nicolai would end up joining another House. So, doubtless, he would be able to kill the man properly in future, though there was a risk that after the coming defeat Nicolai might opt not to take part in the rest of the House War. The assassin shrugged at the thought, the movement languid and unconcerned.

There was a patch of air moving oddly, off to his left at the mouth of an alleyway. Most would have missed this, because scans returned no signs of life, and the average killer relied on those scans more than their own eyes. Not the assassin. He saw, and he knew there was someone there.

He sent a drone in to observe. Once it had crept within the very edge of sonar range, it sent out a pulse. The pulse returned a reading, and his eyes narrowed with interest. Hed already built a profile for every single person taking part, using their time together in the lobby to do so, and thus he was able to recognise who it was down there by running the dimensions the scan returned against the profiles.

Prior to leaving heand nearly everyone elsehad witnessed a conversation between Nicolai and one of the nobles. The man had suggested Nicolai seek out one particular individual, someone skilled at passing through spiritual defences.

This was one area where the assassin was willing to admit he was lacking. He had never had any interest in hacking, and likewise he had no interest in its spiritual counterpart. There was only so much even the greatest assassin could do. Many of those whod fallen before him had ultimately lost because they spread their focus too wide, and found, when facing against him, that they lacked the raw combat capabilities and fundamental skills required to compete.

When it came to hacking, his policy was simple. If he needed to hack something, he would either purchase a deployable virus, or he would hire, threaten, or otherwise convince a hacker to help him. He had rarely had trouble filling this need. There was a great deal one could buy on the black market, and the assassin could be very convincing, when he needed to be.

So far as he was concerned, the appearance of someone with exactly the skills he needed to pass easily through that wall was only natural. He was destined to be victorious, after all. It was no surprise that whatever he needed should present itself before him.

Within a minute, hed made his way into the building neighbouring the Spirit Hackers alleyway and was in position to strike.

As his Soul Sense surged out, it encountered resistance. Some kind of stationary barrier the man had set up around himself. It lasted no longer than anything else did, against the acid-like touch of his Soul Sense.

Then the assassin cut a hole in the wall, kicked the stone out his way, and had stepped through before the Spirit Hacker could finish fumbling for whatever he was trying to get to. A flick of his wrist and the monowire wrapped his target tight. The man had been wrenched from invisibility, the assassins Soul Sense taking care of that, too.

With a thought, I can activate this weapon and it will cut through your body as easily as it cut through the wall, he informed the monowire-wrapped man.

Wha-what is this Art?! the veiled figure cried. You broke my formation! he added, appalled.

I will be asking the questions, hissed the assassin, pulling the monowire tighter. It was deactivated, and would not cut until he bid it. You are skilled at passing through spiritual defences, are you not?

Thats I yes. Yes I am.

Then you are very lucky, purred the assassin. He retracted the monowire, having it slither free to re-coil itself around his raised wrist. You will get me through that wall and any other such obstacles in the way. In turn, I will deal with any of the so-called assassins we encounter. Together, we will reach the centre.

The mans eyes narrowed. And when we arrive, what then?

The assassin smiled, pleased his pet hacker had grasped the situation so quickly. There are three positions available, one lead and two junior, he answered easily. Skills such as yours are quite useful, though not as useful as mine. I will be the lead assassin, and if you progress beside me, it is quite likely you will be chosen as one of my juniors.

The man nodded slowly, thoughtfully. Your manner is a little abrupt, but I cant argue with the logic. Okay. Partners, then.

Partners, hissed the assassin. Then he lunged, closed the space between them in a blur and put one hand on the mans shoulder, gripping painful tight. But keep this well in your mind... The rewards from Heaven are mine. I will be the first to touch the orb, I will hold the orb, and I will deliver the orb.

The spiritual hacker had gone very still, hardly even daring to breathe. As you say, the man croaked, carefully raising his hands. Youre the lead, Im the junior. You keep me safe and Ill do whatever you need.

Good, said the assassin, stepping back. He gestured to the wall. How long will it take for you to get us through that?

The man considered. I cannot make any promises, but perhaps... ten minutes?

Make it five, junior.

As they prepared to move towards the wall, the assassin peered into the distance through some of his higher-up drones. On the other side of the compound, it sounded as though a pitched battle was occurring. At a guess, quite a number of the others who had spawned on that side had already encountered each other, started fighting, and drawn more in.

Whoever was over there was likely having quite a bad time, or perhaps, in the case of some, a good time. Either way, he thought, his lips curving in a smile, they would be quite delayed in getting into the compound nd finding the orb.

If the spiritualist got him through the wall as quickly as he promised, then the assassin might well be able to set up an ambush at the location of the orb. He thought it quite likely Nicolai was embroiled in a battle over there. By the time he arrived at the orb, the assassin would be ready and waiting.

The assassin was willing to accept a win where he simply completed the majority of objectives and was chosen as the lead assassin, but he would prefer to eliminate the only one he saw as true opposition. By doing so, he would prove, yet again, the superiority of his existence.

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