The descent into Neo-Omaha was like falling through the layers of a cold, metallic hell. As the massive obsidian gates groaned shut behind them, the absolute silence of the Dead Zone was replaced by the grinding of gears and the low, rhythmic hum of atmospheric scrubbers.
"Stay close, Bronze," Kael muttered, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his silver-plated dagger. "In the Under-District, luck only gets you so far. Here, you are either a gear, a donor, or a corpse."
[Warning: You have entered the 'Under-District']
[Environmental Effect: 'Heavy Atmosphere' — Stamina consumption increased by 20%]
Chen looked around, his Gilded Folding Fan tucked into his belt, making him look hopelessly out of place among the shivering masses of the human district. The streets were narrow corridors of rusted steel and weeping pipes. Humans—the 'Livestock'—shuffled along the walls, their faces gaunt, many with the tell-tale bruising of frequent blood donation on their forearms.
Above them, separated by a shimmering translucent barrier, was the Mid-Tier. It was a world of neon-red lights and sleek architecture where Lycan mercenaries and Sanguine Officers lived in luxury. And above that, piercing the very clouds, was the Spire.
As they moved toward the city's center, the presence of the domain's military forces became suffocating. Chen's Martial Awareness began to categorize the patrols they passed:
The Grey Hounds: Bronze-rank human collaborators and Lycan thralls who policed the Under-District. They were crude, violent, and relied on electric pikes to keep the "Livestock" in line.
The Silver Sentinels: Kael's peers. These were the elite enforcers, each at least Level 15, moving with supernatural speed and wielding weapons forged from blood-iron.
The Sanguine Guard: Entities that didn't even look human anymore. Draped in heavy crimson armor, they stood motionless at the elevators leading to the Spire. Each one emitted a pressure that made Chen's skin prickle.
"System," Chen thought, hiding his gaze behind a yawn. "If I 'accidentally' sneezed and took out a Silver Sentinel, how much trouble would I be in?"
[Answer: You would be Level 5 and a fugitive in approximately three seconds. Suggestion: Continue playing the 'Lucky Idiot.']
"Fair enough," Chen mused.
They reached the grand elevator—a cage of gold and glass that climbed the exterior of the Spire. Kael flashed a silver seal, and the Sanguine Guards stepped aside, their visors glowing with a faint, predatory red light.
"The Marquis wants to see the 'Power Spike' for himself," Kael said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "If you have any secrets, Chen, bury them deep. Malphas doesn't just read expressions; he reads the soul."
As the elevator rose, the squalor of the Under-District shrank into a distant, muddy memory. The Spire was a monument to excess. Marble floors, tapestries woven from spider-silk, and chandeliers that dripped with glowing nectar.
The elevator slowed to a halt at the very peak.
The doors slid open to reveal a hall lined with statues of forgotten kings. At the end of the hall sat a man draped in velvet the color of a fresh wound. He held a glass of dark liquid, his eyes—deep gold and cat-like—fixed on the approaching pair.
[Entity Identified: Marquis Malphas (Gold - Level 45)]
[Trait: Sovereign's Domain — All non-Sanguine entities within 50 meters suffer 'Fear' debuff.]
Chen felt the weight of the Marquis's gaze. It was a physical pressure, like a mountain leaning against his chest. But deep within his soul, the 'Mirror of the Sovereign' skill fragment hummed in defiance.
Chen stumbled slightly, putting on his best 'terrified commoner' act. "Oh wow," he squeaked, his voice cracking perfectly. "Is that a real gold chair? Can I touch it?"
Kael went pale, dropping to one knee. "My Lord, I have brought the survivor from the Fallen Academy."
The Marquis didn't look at Kael. He stood up, his velvet robes trailing behind him like a shadow, and walked toward Chen. He stopped inches away, his cold breath smelling of ancient spices and iron.
"You," Malphas whispered, his voice vibrating in Chen's very bones. "You don't smell like fear. You smell like... dust. Old, stagnant dust."
Chen looked up, his violet eyes wide and vacant. "I haven't had a bath in ten years, Mister Marquis. The dust is probably structural at this point."
The Marquis tilted his head, a thin, cruel smile spreading across his face. "We shall see how structural you are when we peel back the layers."
[Mission Updated: Survival of the Spire]
[Objective: Do not let Marquis Malphas detect your 'Martial Awareness' for the next 24 hours.]
[Penalty for failure: Soul Extraction.]
Chen smiled inwardly. Gary would have definitely hated the soul extraction part.