The middle tier of the Shadowgrave Clan was neither shrouded in mist nor crowned by the rays of the twin moon.
It was the spine of the ravine city of the Shadowgrave Clan.
Broad stone causeways stretched from cliff to cliff at this level, thicker and more reinforced than the upper bridges, their undersides carved with stabilizing arrays that glowed faintly in the dim light.
Lantern pillars lined the walkways at measured intervals, their amber flames steady despite the wind that constantly moved through the canyon.
From here, one could see almost everything.
Above, terraces rose in disciplined layers toward the watchtowers and buildings of lower ranks. Below, the lower districts descended into harsher stone and thinning light.
Training platforms hovered nearby, suspended on heavy chains.
The distant clang of stell carried through the air from one direction, while from another came the low hum of a formation activating somewhere within the cliff face.
Doors here were larger. Guarded. And marked with more intricate chaos runes and formations.
The central suspended plaza loomed not far off, connected to the middle tier by two massive stone arteries.
It was across one of these arterial causeways that a certain demon pig walked.
He stood upright on digitigrade legs, was broad-shouldered and thick through the torso. Curved tusks framed his snout, and faint scars crisscrossed the exposed skin of his forearms. A dirty and bloodied apron could be seen on his body, adding to the stench his natural body emitted.
This demon pig was Game Master Pellin.
Unlike assassins who moved in silence, he could not do such a thing.
He neither had the abilities nor the talent to be an assassin. But what he did have, caused the older Initiates, Whisperers, Slaves, and Shadow Blades to part way for him without being told.
For some, they made sure not to walk too close to Pellin because of his stench and horrible appearance.
For some, they knew of his profession and talent, and they dreaded and were disgusted by what he did.
While for others, they just did as the others did.
Meanwhile, Pellin’s destination lay ahead-embedded into the western cliff wall- his home.
He had spent quite a number of time in the prison of the clan, and he just wanted to rest.
Even though he loved what he did and could do it for days without stopping, he knew that he needed rest.
Why?
Because if he chose not to rest, his mind would become dull and uncreative. He would not be able to think of ways to break his toys.
Speaking of breaking and toys, Pellin suddenly recalled a certain child whom he failed to break.
It was one of his biggest failures, and a stain on his record.
If somebody told him that he would fail to break the mind of a child in the past, he would have taught that individual what it meant to be broken beyond even the slightest repair.
To be broken that even death would refuse to have you.
But here he was... walking the same displeased and unpleasant expression he had ever since Simon was taken away from him by the Grave Lords.
He had tortured and broken a few demons after Simon, but none of them had brought him that ecstasy and pleasure he was used to.
In fact, he had killed one out of anger when he realized that he was not satisfied despite breaking the demon.
And he knew why.
Blackmoon.
After making his findings and using his connections, he finally knew the name of the child he failed to break.
He later found out that Blackmoon was given the slave status by the Grave Lords, but he was still allowed to participate in the trials.
If he succeeded, he would become an Initiate but a slave.
If he failed, he would most likely become a Whisperer as long as he showed some talent and skill.
But if he performed woefully, he would become a complete slave of the clan with no other status.
Such a thing was the worst thing for any demon in the clan, and Pellin wished this for Simon.
If Simon was just a slave of the clan, he could take him and finish his job while telling the Grave Lords that he was trying to find the information they were looking for.
There would be no punishment given to him, and he’d be allowed to as he pleased.
And oh did he wish to do as he pleased to Simon.
Unfortunately for him, and to his immense disbelief and shock, Simon succeeded in becoming an Initiate.
And he not only became an Initiate, he became the first placed Initiate by a wide margin.
This ruined so many plans Pellin had for Simon.
Simon was a slave. But after what he did, his value in the clan’s eyes rose.
It was not by a significant amount, but it was enough for the clan to protect him from people like Pellin who would want to use their connections, power, and authority to hurt Simon.
Pellin knew that he could no longer interfere or hurt Simon directly. In fact, he feared that he would no longer be able to have Simon and finish his work.
It was a thought that terrified Pellin and gave him sleepless nights.
If he could not have Simon and finish his work on him, he feared that he would never get the ecstasy and pleasure he usually gained from breaking his toys.
His life would no longer have any meaning and would just be black and white.
He couldn’t live like that, so he decided that he would also take matters into his own hands to ruin Simon’s future and make his path more difficult for him.
The first thing he did was to use one of his connections to drastically lower the number of merits he got after exchanging his trial points for merits.
If possible, he would have given Simon zero (0) merits, but he knew that it would draw the attention of several higher ups.
Twenty (20) merits was extremely little, and he believed that if he started with just twenty (20) merits, life would become very difficult for Simon in the clan.
After all, merits was life in the clan. Simon had no idea yet.
Blackmoon was a slave and was suppressed by the clan’s rules, so he- Game Master Pellin- would also add his weight and suppress Blackmoon from the shadows along with the clan.