Chapter 77: All in the Family

  Justinian watched with interest as a figure unknown to him emerged from behind a tree lush with greenery. He remembered enough from the opening ceremony to guess the stranger’s identity; the young devil’s striking eyebrows—long and curled like snail shells—clearly marked him as a resident of the 64th dimension.

  "You have quite the sense of your surroundings!"

  The man, who looked no older than twenty-five, smirked insolently, eyeing the human without a hint of fear.

  Justinian was not an arrogant man; he didn't assume he was the strongest person in the vicinity. Truth be told, he rarely concerned himself with such comparisons. Previously, he had only cared about the strength required for revenge; now, he cared about the strength needed to defend his new home.

  Even so, it struck him that the devil standing before him was remarkably bold to appear here alone. From the clearly perceptible spiritual organ situated near his heart, the devil was slowly emitting the energy of the second level of Foundation Stabilization—the same rank as Justinian.

  Seeing the young man studying him thoughtfully, the newcomer raised his hands as if reading his mind.

  "You have nothing to fear. I didn't come here to attack you."

  Justinian raised his eyebrows, surprised by such bluntness. The devil didn't seem to mind the reaction. Instead, he flashed his two front teeth and proceeded with a formal introduction.

  "I am Bahadyr. I saw the predicament you’ve found yourself in, and I’ve come to help!"

  "And what predicament would that be?"

  The devil from the 64th dimension laughed loudly, waving a hand dismissively.

  "Let’s not play dumb; the whole city is talking about it!"

  Without waiting for an answer, he began spinning a web of the rumors currently circulating throughout the 60th dimension.

  "Everyone is saying that those ridiculous 'Noblemen Brothers' from the 66th dimension have finally gone too far and will face real consequences this year—led by the insolent human who dared to insult Hell with his blasphemy."

  "That..."

  Bahadyr didn't let himself be interrupted, continuing his recap of the day's most popular gossip.

  "You might not know it, but storm clouds are gathering over you, and they’re moving fast. Word is already out that the adepts from the 61st and 63rd dimensions want to hunt you down, and those aren't just some random nobodies."

  Justinian saw where this was going. He had no intention of dragging out the conversation unnecessarily.

  "So, what are you proposing?"

  At this, Bahadyr’s smirk widened into a sneer, far broader than before.

  "In exchange for certain information, I can ensure your survival during the final test."

  "And what information would that be?"

  The devil turned serious. It was as if the entire conversation up to this point had been a joke, but now, his eyes burned with resolve and something else—a hint of a personal grudge.

  "I want to know how you managed to provoke Ericus earlier. That, and..."

  For the first time, he visibly hesitated. It seemed as though speaking the next words caused him immense difficulty.

  "Felix Faustus."

  Hearing a name he hadn't expected to encounter in this dimension, Justinian involuntarily glanced at the devil's conflicted face. It was evident that despite the poorly hidden resentment, something else was etched into Bahadyr's expression. Knowing devils as he did, it could only be the result of one thing.

  "I know that, in reality, he must be the leader of your pathetic little delegation. I have a few scores to settle with him, and I want you to arrange a meeting between us."

  Justinian composed himself after the initial shock and shook his head.

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  "I’m afraid that’s not possible."

  There was a trace of sadness in his voice, which gave Bahadyr pause before he could fly into a rage. The devil's energy began to churn in the air, attempting to exert pressure on the surroundings.

  "What do you mean 'impossible'?! Are my terms not generous enough?"

  Justinian simply didn't want to answer. Felix Faustus was someone he respected, and he saw no point in revealing his condition to potential enemies. Instead, he simply released the fluctuations of his own cultivation base.

  The devil's face contorted into a grimace of fury. He immediately increased the pressure he was emitting, only to... turn pale and stumble back in confusion. In that brief clash, his energy proved to be significantly weaker!

  "I appreciate your warning," Justinian said firmly, "but that does not mean you should overstep my goodwill."

  By staring hard at his interlocutor, the young man clearly drew a line in the sand. Bahadyr, with sweat trickling down his temple, seemed to weigh his options. It was clear he was no longer as confident as he had been moments ago.

  In that tense moment, only the wind rising from across the lake brought a cooling of emotions. The lush vegetation blooming everywhere seemed to resonate with it, as if listening to a song peculiar to this place. Both Justinian and Bahadyr were suddenly seized by a sense of foreboding.

  Finally, the latter burst into a loud laugh and, after throwing out a short comment, vanished as if he had never been there at all. His final words echoed:

  "In this damn dimension, nothing is as it seems."

  Meanwhile, several kilometers away, Alfons Rudnicki sat awkwardly among the delegation of the 65th dimension. The air here was thick with campfire smoke, wood tar, horse sweat, and roasting meat. The atmosphere was boisterous, but the local devils spoke mostly among themselves, paying him little mind.

  The 65th and 66th dimensions shared distant ancestral ties. According to old legends, over 100,000 years ago—before the King of Names and Symbols took the throne—both were ruled by a single Voivode. Although physical differences existed between the devils of the two dimensions, an untrained eye could easily mistake one for the other.

  Waiting for a chance to chime in, Alfons recalled how, during noble feasts, the "Noblemen Brothers" would reminisce about the beautiful times of the past. Some of the great houses still maintained minor contacts with the 65th dimension, even harboring illusions of one day returning to a single state organism.

  'What grand times those must have been!'

  Young Alfons sighed dreamily, oblivious to the fact that he hadn't been allowed a word in for the last ten minutes. He also failed to notice that the jokes of the "Atamans" were revolving more and more around the incompetence of the 66th dimension.

  Finally, after draining a large bowl of alcoholic mead, he tried once more to join the conversation.

  "Do you kno—"

  Again, his attempt failed, cut off by a toast from one of the hosts.

  "Brothers! Hosts, and our... somewhat lost kinsmen!"

  A massive devil with a pockmarked face roared, raising a silver goblet.

  "Let us drink to the blood that binds us, and to the wisdom that allows us to distinguish a true warrior from a human in disguise!"

  The laughter that followed was deafening. Alfons offered a crooked smile, feeling his cheeks burn. It was then that he felt a heavy hand, hard as stone, drop onto his shoulder.

  "Leave him be. Let the boy breathe."

  The voice that spoke was low and velvety, instantly silencing the clamor at the table.

  The owner of the voice sat in the shadows at the head of the table. It was Ataman Ihor—the strongest adept of the 65th dimension. Unlike his boisterous companions, he wore neither furs nor gold. He was dressed in a simple black zupan, and his only ornament was a long scar running along the profile of his skull.

  "Alfons, isn't it?"

  Ihor smiled, and in his eyes flashed something that young Rudnicki took for genuine respect.

  "Your family always had a knack for horses and the saber. I admired them greatly."

  Ihor leaned in, pouring Alfons more mead from his personal wineskin. The scent of the liquor was so intense it made his head spin.

  "It must be hard for you. The whole dimension is buzzing with rumors of how a human is leading you just to humiliate you. He must be incredibly cunning to have bewitched the Voivode so."

  Alfons chuckled softly, straightening his back with pride.

  Dazed by the mead and the fact that he was finally being allowed to speak, he began to talk. He spoke of their journey in the transitional dimension so far, of Justinian’s cultivation level, and even of the terrible reputation the young man held back in the 66th dimension.

  He was too drunk to realize he was contributing to a coming catastrophe.

  Late that night, Justinian lay in bed in his quarters. Despite the immense fatigue from his travels, he couldn't bring himself to sleep. Echoes of the strange conversation with Bahadyr kept racing through his mind.

  'As if things weren't complicated enough.'

  He had expected the 61st and 63rd dimensions to be hostile, of course, but more blown-up rumors were the last thing he needed. He had already seen the problems they caused in the 66th dimension; the sequel promised to be even worse.

  Wandering between thought and sleep, his consciousness had just begun to drift when something sudden, like an electric shock, grabbed his attention.

  Looking through the window, he saw something extraordinary happening far on the horizon, where the dead earth met the sky. There were strange flashes, like those of a massive thunderstorm. However, the flashes were not coming from the clouds.

  He strained his eyes, using the last of his energy to enhance his perception. What he saw made the blood in his veins nearly freeze.

  On the horizon, amidst swirling shadows and pillars of light, a figure was moving. Its manifesting aura was gargantuan, its echoes barely distinguishable from the planet’s own energy in the night mist. However, he recognized a specific, majestic tone—an aura that seemed to impose its will upon reality itself.

  'Is that... Mikromegas?!'

  The opponent was invisible, hidden in a cloud of dust and energy, but the aftermath of their clash was terrifying. In a silent duel that looked as though it would decide the fate of the entire dimension, one lethal strike followed another.

  Justinian saw the lone figure raise a hand, summoning the power of the entire dimension to strike at something lurking in the darkness. The moment the blow landed, sleep forced Justinian's eyes shut.