Veiled Machinations. (71)

Holding Yuna tightly in my arms, I buried my face in the chiseled curve of her neck and shoulders. Our bodies succumbed to an unplanned provocation. Her black tail wrapping around my waist, and her hot sigh tickled my sensitive ear. *Two blurred silhouettes intertwined in the hot spring, their movements barely discernible amidst the splashes of water that matched their shameful rhythm, occasionally interrupted by changes of position.*

[Participant 137, The Mission to Destroy the Unborn is completed.

A reward of 35,000 points has been received.

+200 to Intelligence attribute.

+200 to Metal Force attribute.]

[Updating Participant parameters 137:

Race: Dark Elf.

Rank: 9.

Power: 28,900

Dexterity: 30,700.

Endurance: 32,800.

Magic resistance: 25,300.

Cursed Welfare: 2.

Manna perception: 27,950.

Intelligence: 31,760.

Мental strength: 30 100.

Regeneration: 25,600.

Alliance: The Infernal Legion.

Rank: General of the Third Battalion.

Skills:

Spectral Familiars (Level 11), Spirit Weapons (Level 22), Poison Arrows (Level 20), Shadow Steps (Level 24), Shield Of Light (Level 2), Breath Hypnosis (Level 12), Steel Claws (Level 18), General Armor (Level. 10).]

After glancing at the updated parameters, I brushed off the imaginary dust from the arms of my coat and made my way along the spacious corridor toward the exit.

Yuna walked next to her, dressed in a light dress with a low-cut neckline, exposing elastic breasts and a thin neck. The chains with golden bells on her wrists and ankles rang with every step. Her expression was more serious than during our intimate moments.

Nodding at me, she took a couple of steps back as we left the castle, and a dozen creatures knelt down to greet me.

"The great General Kai Teran," they reverently uttered.

The scarred creature among them spoke up, "We have received a summons from the Alliance. The matter is urgent. I ask you to go to the island of Ralhond first."

A hidden grin formed beneath my helmet.

Ah, indeed, the nature of a creature cannot be changed in a short time.

Raising my hand, I gestured for them to rise, and as we traversed the stone pavement, we made our way toward the Meeting Area on the Fourth Level.

Upon exiting the recently conquered castle in the House of Cards, I reinstated the protective seals on the stone walls. For a brief moment, my gloves glowed crimson before returning to their silver hue.

The Meeting Area was located on an island adorned with towering skyscrapers, where various business meetings took place every hour. Moderately prosperous, considering the average level of the Arena—not as prestigious as the last three floors, yet not as humble as the first two.

Greedy glances snatched generous chunks of prosperity, the ringing of Spiritual Stones pleading for more favorable conditions. The losers reveled in grief, burdened by eternal debt, while the winners indulged in excitement, sinking deeper into the abyss of selfish desires. If you were fighting for your life on the Battlefield, then in this place, surrounded by equally powerful creatures, you sought to secure a place under the sun.

As we approached the queue for flying boats, we confidently made our way through the crowd, cutting through it like a knife through butter. The chatter that once filled the air abruptly ceased, replaced only by the howling wind. Continuing onward, we reached an empty platform.

A predatory machine emerged, spreading its bronze wings as if ready to seize its prey. A flying ship approached us, casting a colossal shadow that engulfed everyone present beneath it.

With a crash, the ship landed on a magic circle painted on the floor, plunging its spike-shaped bottom into the designated spot. The hood of my helmet flew off, landing on my shoulders with a rustle. The entrance opened directly in front of me.

Stepping into the dimly lit interior, I listened to the steady footsteps trailing behind me.

I affixed my token to a scroll politely presented by one of the workers, squeezing my eyes shut. With a slight sense of dizziness, the entire group found themselves within a cozy cabin, where plush chairs encircled a central table. Servants stood almost motionless, holding trays adorned with prepared dishes, awaiting the orders of the newcomers. Light and dark tones harmoniously merged, occasionally accentuating the intricately designed decor, including a menacing statue crafted by a novice carpenter, which adorned an inconspicuous corner of the guest room.

Once aboard the flying ship, I made my way to the observation deck and leaned against the railing, taking in the breathtaking view of the residential area. The vibrant colors of the buildings were separated by a hazy boundary, overshadowed by the encampments of various Alliances.

This place held a multitude of memories, extraordinary discoveries, and new acquaintances. Reflecting on the pleasant and not-so-good moments I had experienced in the Arena over the past three years, I narrowed my eyes slightly.

Now, I found myself back in the midst of it all, my life teetering on the edge of a complex conspiracy.

What a stunning place... Full of souls rotten beyond repair.

Before long, we left behind a line of white clouds. Battling the encroaching boredom, I recalled the long queue for the flying ships.

It seems that this year, there was a surge in creatures wanting to reach this island.

Such a scenario was expected, as everyone sought to ascend to the Fourth Level and join one of the Alliances. Whether by stepping on the pride of others or shouldering the burden of past failures, they all desired to ride the upcoming wave on the 36th floor.

Stepping across the threshold of the flying ship, I found myself on a tiled floor where gray squares provided only vague outlines, as if attempting to conceal the grandeur of the place.

I walked purposefully, avoiding the tempting allure of the backstreets adorned with shining names of first-class establishments. Vendors lined both sides of the road, showcasing artifacts, weapons, and spellbooks that were considered rare by local standards.

Soon, I reached the designated building and nodded to the creatures following me. Obediently, they stood in front of the glass door, turning their backs towards me.

The entire building had been reserved for the impending meeting. Stepping inside, I stole one last glance at Yuna, her fragile figure silhouetted against an obscured backdrop as the wind tousled her black hair, which cascaded and brushed against her slender shoulders.

I knew she was a spy, tethered to me like a thread manipulating my every move, blurring the line between reality and wishful thinking. Shorty Joe ensured that I remained perpetually in his grip, dancing like a puppet on his strings.

I knew much, yet simultaneously knew nothing of true significance. From their nervous movements and intonations, I could sense that each being present harbored their own goals and interests.

Just like me, these creatures sought to ascend from the muck toward the light, stepping on the heads of the deceased and the still living, yearning to taste the flavor of freedom.

---

As I reached the top floor, I entered an almost empty office. Devoid of windows or elaborate decor, it contained only chairs and an oval table. There was nothing to do but take a seat, my steel claws idly scratching the smooth surface of the armrest.

Tearing at the material, I attempted to sort through my thoughts.

The loss of power just before the decisive breakthrough had soured my mood considerably.

Gradually, the hall filled with creatures.

Amidst the prevailing calm, each one held their weapons at the ready, poised for both physical and verbal attacks.

Eyes meeting with suspicion, they sought to expose the traitor lurking within their ranks.

"Ahem. Everyone has been working tirelessly this past month, and the leader sends his congratulations to all," announced Mark, a towering figure with an eagle's beak, his hands gesturing to defuse the tense atmosphere.

"I see. Some have found time to rest, while others have toiled relentlessly day and night," Kron, who resembled an octopus with beige tentacles protruding from loose sleeves, remarked, absentmindedly caressing a cold vessel filled with purple liquid.

Their exchanges were always accompanied by tiresomely redundant information.

Before the impending exchange of insults could escalate, another participant intervened.

"We need to discuss what occurred. Our valiant General Niaz fell at the Survival Crossroads a week ago. If anyone has any pertinent information, please speak up," stated Mina, known for her concise manner of speech, especially in critical situations.

A hazy image of Niaz emerged from the mist, a fierce warrior who relished tearing enemies to shreds, yet always remained loyal to his allies.

As our powerful warrior departed from our midst, we bid him farewell through gritted fangs, the weight of the oppressive atmosphere casting a shadow upon the faces of those present.

It was too late for salvation, but this only fueled the angry squabbling among the high-ranking members of The Infernal Legion.

"My subordinates are dropping like flies. Someone is plotting against our Alliance!" Sam slammed his fist on the table, the unyielding material barely containing his beastly strength.

"And that's not all. Rumor has it that newcomers are being swayed to avoid joining the Alliance, as if foreseeing its imminent collapse," added Greg, thoughtfully stroking his chin.

"I haven't found any substantial leads. There are numerous cases, but the details are perplexingly convoluted from the start. I can't even fathom what to expect in the coming week," Lena, a tenth-rank mage clutching a wooden staff, confessed. She held the highest position in intelligence, always possessing foresight into the consequences of specific actions.

"Perhaps it's due to the opening of the 36th floor. Among the three forces, ours alone is mercilessly declining. If this trend continues, I fear we won't secure our positions in the campaign," Mina voiced the collective anguish weighing upon everyone's hearts.

Twenty creatures descended into a heavy silence. Clearing his throat, Greg spoke up.

"We need to change our tactics; otherwise, all the efforts we've exerted over the past five years will crumble into the dust of bygone greatness."