Defiance of the Fall-Chapter 1314: Infectious Anger

Vilari was an island of tranquility in a raging sea of roaring applause. The stands were filled to the brim with red-faced spectators who used the arena as an outlet for their pent-up urges. Their bloodlust fused into a tangible force that Vilari had only seen on the battlefield. The atmosphere even affected the Hegemons waiting for their turn to fight on the main stage.

The force seeped into the limbs of Vilari’s downed opponent, causing them to twitch erratically. However, it was insufficient to awaken the gladiator’s rattled mind. The timer reached zero, and Vilari calmly walked off the stage. From beginning to end, she hadn’t moved from her starting position.

“Congratulations, Your Holiness. It’s been years since we had the pleasure of seeing a contestant reach ten victories in two days,” Vilari’s personal attendant said with an obsequious bow.

“I see,” Vilari said. “Has the next battle been arranged?”

“About that—” the attendant shook his head with a troubled expression. “I am afraid not. Your profound methods have left an impression on the permanent gladiators, and we’re having trouble finding a suitable match. In fact, the Ringmaster has requested an audience to discuss the issue.”

“Oh? Which Ringmaster? Daoist Ten-fold Hail?”

“It’s indeed Master Hail,” the attendant confirmed.

Vilari didn’t immediately answer. She looked at the stands, clamoring for more blood as the stage was cleared for the next fight. The platform had already become a natural formation that focused all that bloodlust on the combatants. Even Vilari found it difficult to suppress the implanted impulses. However, submerging herself in the sea of violence was her only method of narrowing down her search.

Meeting the Ringmaster before fully understanding the situation was a risk. He was an Early Monarch, a Veteran of countless battles, and a former Arena Champion. He was also Vilari’s main suspect if the phenomenon was by design. Even without a dedicated Soul-defending technique, Ten-Fold Hail wasn’t an enemy she could face.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

“I’ll trouble you to bring me to his office, then,” Vilari said.

“Of course, this way!”

Ten-Fold Hail didn’t have an office overseeing his ring like the other three Ringmasters. Instead, it was located above the coliseum’s main entrance, overlooking Riverdell’s Imperial Road and the raging river it followed. Vilari found Master Hail standing by a wall of windows, observing the constant stream of traffic leading to the coliseum.

Vilari’s eyes subtly widened as she took in the eclectic collection of artifacts placed throughout the generous office. Instead of the conventional display of power or wealth, it seemed designed to grant its owner an air of refinement. Vilari could see the desire they conveyed. Ten-Fold Hail had led an illustrious life, and a Monarch would be welcome wherever they went.

That wasn’t enough to raise him from his status. Ten-fold Hail was considered a commoner, both by designation and background. The artifacts showcased loftier goals. They were also the cause of Riverdell’s imminent collapse.

“Master Hail,” Vilari said with a slight bow, which already gave the Ringmaster quite a bit of face.

“Your Holiness, welcome,” Master Hail said with a smile as he turned around. “This is our first time meeting, but I have witnessed your blazing ascent. As expected of a Chosen of the Severance Cloister.”

“Master Hail is well-informed.”

“It’s mostly smattered gossip overheard during my years of service,” Master Hail said with a self-deprecating laugh. “How is Your Holiness finding Riverdell? I hope the rough environment hasn’t spoiled your pilgrimage. It’s difficult to enforce true order while we're still considered a border town.”

“Not at all. It’s natural for the light of progress to cast shadows, and it’s precisely why I came here. One must experience all aspects of mortality to successfully sever it.”

“I’m always drawn by this view,” Master Hail said, inviting Vilari to join him by the window. “When my brothers and I built the coliseum, Riverdell didn’t even have an outer formation. A rag-tag group of iterant cultivators was responsible for fending off the tides descending the mountains every spring. The city was rebuilt almost every decade. It would have been abandoned if not for its useful position by the Klamatra River.”

Vilari nodded in agreement. The Klamatra River was incredibly dangerous, filled with beasts, and empowered by an unbreakable Natural Formation. Crossing through the air was impossible. Even Monarchs would be dragged to its depths. The only method of passage was by boat, and Riverdell was built by one of the few shallow stretches. Starting the crossing from Riverdell’s harbor reduced the danger by two-thirds.

“Attracting talent through your coliseum is a great service. The citizens no longer need to fear for their lives,” Vilari praised.

“Indeed, though we had luck on our side. Not many wandering cultivators would have made the journey if not for the Imperial Road passing through the area,” Master Hail said, looking at the tiled road like it was his baby.

Vilari didn’t dare follow his gaze. The perfectly maintained cobblestone road held terrifying power. Looking at it directly with her inner eye open had almost blinded her. It was like she’d gazed upon the continent’s life vein.

“I’m afraid the esteemed status of Your Holiness has spread,” the Ringmaster continued after a brief silence. “Those of suitable strength are hesitant to raise their blade against the Emperor’s chosen, and the kind of riff-raff who’d fight anyone for a few spiritual taels cannot pose a challenge. Furthermore, Heavens forbid, should something happen to Your Holiness—”

“The cloister doesn’t involve itself in mortal matters.”

“That may be so, but the Faith of Riverdell is strong. The coliseum’s reputation would plummet if we allowed the blood of the Anointed to tarnish our ring. Some of our patrons would even consider our establishment cursed.”

Vilari helplessly looked at the Ringmaster’s troubled expression. Master Hail’s “concern” was very likely a façade meant to hide the dealings the coliseum ran on the side. She’d questioned a few servants influenced by her Soul, and it turned out beasts were not the only dangers on the Klamatra River.

The Ringmasters all had crews of trusted gladiators moonlighting as river bandits. They used the coliseum and its connected taverns to gather information on suitable targets, ensuring they didn’t mess with dangerous or connected people.

At the same time, Master Hail’s misgivings were no doubt genuine. The memory lantern she’d ended up with was truly troubling, and it came with several restrictions. To use its identity, Vilari had to wear the nunnery outfit she inherited from Imsaya, the nun whose faith was tested by the world’s cruelty.

Vilari couldn’t even enter the memories without it, and taking it off inside wasn’t an option—she’d learned that the hard way. A squad of Monarchs had appeared inside the memory the first time Vilari tried it, and she barely escaped with her life. The robes were directly connected to Severance Temple, and disrobing apparently meant rejecting the Imperial Faith.

It was almost impossible to move unnoticed with the eye-catching clothes, and this wasn’t the first time it had interrupted her investigations. Vilari really needed a more circumspect identity, but she refused to pick a lantern with lacking fate or affinity. The situation wasn’t too bad this time, but Vilari still adorned a troubled expression.

“I’ve found the arena conducive to experiencing the pent-up aggression of the mortal heart. Cutting my observation short will impede my pilgrimage. Alas, one cannot choose how mortal dust will fall,” Vilari said with slight displeasure before her expression smoothed out. “I’ll retire from the ring. However, I wonder if Master Hail can do me a favor?”

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“As long as it is within my power,” the Monarch quickly agreed. “Does Your Holiness require passage? I’m acquainted with most of Riverdell’s seasoned ferrymen.”

“Perhaps at a later time. For now, I wonder if I can purchase one of your relics,” Vilari said and pointed at one of the many items on display.

“That thing? It’s old, not valuable,” Master Hail said with surprise as he looked at the red statuette.

It was no larger than a foot, depicting a humanoid crouched on all fours like a beast. He wore nothing but a ripped loincloth, and his face was locked in a feral snarl. The motif conveyed extreme anger, and the rough technique used to make it only elevated that sensation. Its contours were rough and jagged like someone had mindlessly clawed at a piece of rock until the statue was formed.

“I find it’s a novel representation of the mortal heart. Looking at it will help me recall my experiences in the ring,” Vilari said, seriously observing the Ringmaster’s aura.

Daoist Ten-fold Hail’s face had already grown slack as he stared at the statue without blinking. Vilari wasn’t sure if he’d heard her explanation. Seeds of anger were germinating behind his vacant stare, replacing his thoughts with bloodlust. Vilari was experiencing a similar influence, though she was better equipped to deal with the urges.

Vilari carefully transmitted tranquility through her Soul while slightly adjusting her position. The silver details of her robe were reflected by the setting sun, drawing the Monarch’s attention. The statue’s hold weakened and sharpness in his gaze returned. Vilari exhaled with relief, knowing she hadn’t appeared a moment too soon. The idol had almost drawn enough sustenance to overcome its owner’s natural defenses. With one of Riverdell’s strongest combatants under its control, there’d be no need for it to hold back any longer.

“It’s only an old statue with limited value. Truthfully, I don’t even remember when I acquired it. If Your Holiness is interested, I’m more than happy to gift it to commemorate your visit,” Master Hail smiled, clearly unaware of what had just transpired.

“I’ll remember Master Ten-Fold’s Grace,” Vilari said with a gentle smile. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll retreat to my courtyard to meditate on today’s encounters. I’ll likely set off in two days.”

“Of course, I shall not hold you up any further,” the Monarch said.

Vilari made sure to block the Monarch’s line of sight as she approached the statue. She covered it in an isolating cloth and carried it away, using herself to block the increasingly agitated waves of anger it sent out. Shortly after, Vilari hurried along Riverdell’s streets, making sure she didn’t take one visible from Ten-Fold Hail’s window.

There was still much Vilari didn’t understand about the unusual statuette. She couldn’t tell whether it was a creation of nature or a manmade object. For all she knew, it might even be a unique lifeform similar to golems and elementals. After all, it wasn’t possible to hide the statue inside a spatial ring, forcing Vilari to carry it during her brisk walk toward the memory domain’s exit.

Whatever its origin, the idol carried great potential for destruction. If left alone, it would continue to draw power from the coliseum’s natural aggression. To increase its sustenance, it would amplify the momentary bouts of bloodlust among spectators and gladiators alike. Eventually, the anger would take over the rest of their persona. Riverdell would become a hell on earth populated by cultivators with nothing but fury in their hearts.

Taking away the idol would stop the transformation, but the coliseum’s weaker regulars would already have suffered permanent changes to their personalities. At least the phenomenon hadn’t reached the level where the seeds of anger would become self-propagating and infect those in their surroundings, turning the anger into a mind plague.

The possibility wasn’t a theory; Vilari had experienced such a plague in person. This wasn’t the first idol Vilari had collected. The Idol of Wrath was the fifth, with the rest forming a small coven inside her Soul Aperture.

The first idol she collected was the Idol of Sloth. It had been left to its own devices too long. A whole town had been beset by its influence, turning them so lazy that some chose to stop breathing. The village was under quarantine, and Vilari heard the full story from the investigators sent to deal with the problem.

Passing visitors had brought the affliction of sloth away, eventually turning into replicas of the idols to create new hotspots. They even took identical positions as the figurine upon reaching the state of propagation. In a way, the officials had been lucky they were dealing with a plague of sloth. Its nature kept it contained.

The Idol of Exultation would have been a bigger problem. Vilari could picture countless cultivators running around until they died of exhaustion. There was no telling how far they’d manage to spread their disease before running out of energy.

Spreading madness didn’t mean the statues were inherently evil or cursed. On the contrary, they were incredibly pure, holding one emotion and nothing else. Anything would become dangerous if it reached high enough concentration, and emotions were no exception.

Where they came from was as mysterious as how they worked. None of the investigators had any idea, and they didn’t match any known phenomenon. The Idols would have made powerful tools of sabotage, but Vilari didn’t believe they were the creations of some heretic nurturing their tools. It almost seemed like the statues had been drawn toward strong emotions conducive to their growth, inserting themselves in ways that could trick even Monarchs. Ten-Fold Hail couldn’t remember when he got it because it had appeared on its own.

At the very least, the idols had a basic instinct for survival. Right now, the idol understood its food source was being threatened. Nothing Vilari did could block out the growing waves of anger it let loose on the unwitting townsfolk. It had given up any attempts on subtlety to prevent Vilari from bringing it away.

Fights were breaking out left and right. Thanks to the coliseum and Riverdell’s strategic position, there were always plenty of powerful people around. Defensive arrays failed en masse as flourishing districts turned into warzones. The chaos acted in Vilari’s favor. Her Soul worked overtime to hide her presence and redirect the mindless rage of those who managed to lock onto her position. Even so, she was forced into multiple battles more desperate than those in the ring during her escape.

Three powerful auras erupted from the coliseum just as Vilari reached the memory’s edge, their attention squarely directed at her. Vilari didn’t bother turning around to take a look. Severing the past, she stepped into a withered forest situated along a deep trench—the once mighty Klamatra River, now dried out and empty of spirituality.

The idol shuddered from the backlash of having countless connections simultaneously broken, losing all its sources of sustenance. Even wounded, it unhesitatingly lashed out at Vilari in a futile act of vengeance.

“What a little troublemaker,” Vilari said with a slight smile, prodding the idol’s crooked nose.

The idol trembled with fury, seemingly cursing its inability to move. If possible, it would have risen from its hunched form to tear into Vilari’s flesh and drink her blood. Her teasing or bringing it away had nothing to do with it. The idol could only exhibit one emotion, and it would be just as angry if she treated it courteously.

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Vilari didn’t discard the dangerous relic. Bringing it out of Riverdell wasn’t an act of charity, though she believed her deeds aligned with the trial’s purpose. While dangerous and unpredictable, the idols were all the equivalent of Supreme-quality Natural Treasures purely attuned to the Peak of Seven Sensations. Furthermore, they shared a common origin, giving them perfect compatibility.

Even without further refinement, the set could act as something Vilari lacked—a Mentalist’s offensive Spirit Tool suited to her Dao. Equipment able to amplify Soul Attacks was incredibly rare on the frontier. Vilari only had an Early D-grade Ring at the moment, purchased at great cost from the Limited Exchange. It was neither a Spirit Tool nor attuned to her Dao, barely enough to make a difference in battle.

The Idols were her opportunity to create a true companion like her father’s axes. Their reluctance to comply wasn’t even a bad thing. The constant assaults on her emotional state tempered her Dao, similar to how Jalach’s insidious whispers had assaulted her convictions during her time inside the [Epiclesis Bell].

Vilari’s deranged master was another reason she was adamant about collecting the full set. The statues reminded her a lot of the ancient entity, to the point she couldn’t help wondering if they had a connection. Getting to the bottom of their appearance on the Left Imperial Expanse might give her much-needed insights before her inevitable reunion with her master.

The chaos inside the memory domain showed no indication of calming down. Vilari reconnected with the spiritual wards she’d installed around the memory before entering, confirming there’d been no suspicious movements during the week she’d stayed inside. Seeing as everything was in place, she hurried to her prepared hideout.

Four days later, the Idol of Wrath was finally dragged into her Soul Aperture after losing their tug of war. Its arrival was met with great antipathy from the other four statues, and the fragile balance they’d reached was directly upended. Five clashing emotions entered a war for supremacy, with Vilari’s mind as the battleground.

Every additional emotion made the integration worse, and a storm raged in Vilari’s heart. It took another day to engrave a spiritual bond between the newcomer and its siblings. The idols trembled, and Vilari’s surroundings changed. She sat in a gondola sailing across a moonlit lake. Something terrifying was steering the boat, its aura stopping her from turning around.

Vilari didn’t move an inch, silently listening to the sloshing waters. The mysterious method she used to tame the idols had come from precisely from these waters. With the additional Idol, Vilari managed to listen a bit longer. This time, she even managed to see the gondola’s destination. It was a small island, holding a single structure whose shape and purpose she couldn’t make out.

The vision faded, and she was back inside her own body. The idols had already calmed down, suddenly playing nice like they’d never been apart. Vilari didn’t get the opportunity to celebrate her success before tumultuous waves in her heart agitated the remnant storm of emotions in her aperture.

An impossible sight briefly entered her vision before a soulful blade cut one of her sentries apart. Confusion, apprehension, and anger sought to topple the dominion of despair. There was no time to sort out her thoughts, and there was no need. It didn’t matter who was audacious enough to borrow Thea Marshall’s appearance or why. Vilari would enact justice in her father’s stead.