Symbiotic Ascension : A Progression Fantasy Adventure

Glenn felt like a deer caught in the headlights, only he was more like a village-devouring type of deer, and the headlights didn't do much to protect the villagers. Almost every single noble was staring at him and his friends, wide eyes and fingers tightly gripping their glasses.

'Is this a party or a carpentry? Why do they all look like they have poles stuck up their butt?' Diamanes said in disbelief, making Glenn choke on his saliva. The young man shook his head and made a drink fly up to him, stealing it from a server's silver platter. Many watched the spell silently, realizing that Glenn was under no restriction and could use his magic like he wanted.

"Lucian really thought about everything," remarked Nelg from within Glenn's soul. "Even if it makes sense, I didn't think there would be even stricter securities in place here. It's already hard enough getting in, why bother adding a layer of mystical restriction on top?"

Glenn was about to reply when he realized it wasn't a real question, just Nelg talking to himself out of boredom.

"H- Hello, you are the Devil's Hand, right?" A noble, dressed lavishly with a slick blond hair cut and sweaty palms, approached Glenn.

"The fuck do you want?" Sahro spat, his arms crossed. The noble's face drained of color and he hurriedly turned and fled. Glenn slowly looked at the Black Heir.

"...Did you forget we're supposed to build relationships? You know, to get information?"

Sahro scoffed. "So what? I'm building relationships, just based on fear! Not my fault if they don't have spines."

Glenn lowered his voice and grabbed Sahro's shoulder. "Alright, you know what to do. We need to find a Rosenborn and a Sorenas. No idea what the fuckers look like, so try asking around. And be discreet, for the love of Onnea!"

Sahro grumbled and pushed him away, leaving for a table that was crumbling under the weights of countless extravagant delicacies. A few ladies got close to him with stars in their eyes, pestering him. Glenn scratched the back of his head and turned away, trying to find the person they came for.

Lucian had explained that the ceremony was split into two parts; a first where everyone meets, eats, and drinks themselves to death, and the second, when the rewards are distributed. They'd be free to leave as soon as they got whatever reward the crown had prepared for them, which was probably a huge pile of credits or something along those lines. In hindsight, Glenn couldn't care less about the reward. Right now, the only thing interesting he could get out of this stupid party was information about Milena and the families they were about to probably fight, the Sorenas and the Rosenborn.

"You are not the most approachable man, Sir Glenn. You should try and be a little more affable, maybe you'll be able to find a rich lady to marry," joked a familiar voice. Glenn's grin turned a little more honest as he faced a man covered in bandages.

"Veil. So you were part of the ceremony too. I suppose Reginald is here too?"

Veil looked behind him before shaking his head. "Probably. No idea where the stuck-up fool has gone to. Probably trying to flirt with an old lady."

Glenn almost spat out the wine he was drinking. "Reginald does what now?"

"Yeah, don't worry about it." Veil waved away dismissively. He was holding a glass of red wine but not drinking from it.

"You're going to drink that?" Glenn asked as he pointed at the glass. Veil looked at the recipient and pondered for a few seconds.

"I'd love to, but taking off my bandages is generally a source of problems. I'll down it in one gulp whenever nobody's looking."

"I'm always looking."

"Sure, sure. Here, I thought that might interest you." Veil stood right next to Glenn and discreetly pointed at people. "The guy with the curly beard over there, he's a Count living on the edge of the Court. His ancestor could stop charging armies with one scream. Guess what his name is?"

Glenn raised an eyebrow. "Conan the Barbarian?"

"Don Drumlord," corrected Veil. He pointed at another noble, this one looking all scrawny in his expensive three-piece suit.

"Sir Dolas Hawkan. His ancestor was one of the finest swordsmen in the realm, the Sword King even. I think you met his father, Harriet the King's Blade?"

"Are you serious? I can hardly believe he shares even a drop of blood with Harriet," said Glenn as he gulped down his wine. It was tasty, but like all alcohol at this point. He could barely feel anything, and his body had probably already protected itself from inebriation. The ills of being a superhuman meant getting shitfaced was much harder than normal, unfortunately.

'Remember when you were weak, and still allowed yourself to drink like a thirsty man in the desert. That was quite the time you spent lingering in your own shit in a Thorn's Church Prison, right?' Diamanes' mockeries made any regret Glenn was feeling disappear as he focused back on his discussion with Veil. He couldn't guess what the Cleaner was trying to tell him, but he could feel it was important.

"On the other hand, there are a few more individuals, such as Talor Rosenborn, who seemingly deserve their titles." Veil smiled under his bandages as he watched Glenn squint at him. "I'll present him to you as long as you promise me not to kill him. Or rip his guts out. Or any sort of violence, really."

Glenn snorted. "Who do you take me for, a madman?"

"Yes." Veil nodded.

"...Fair enough. I won't hurt him, don't worry. I'd just appreciate some answers, is all."

Veil spun on his feet and made the bandages on his face stretch from his wide smile. "In this case, see that handsome gentleman with an embroidered rose on his chest? He's the man you're—ah." Veil grimaced. "And there he goes."

Glenn took great strides toward Talor Rosenborn, who coincidentally failed to notice his approach, unlike all of his fellow nobles who were already about to dart away to a safer spot. The noble forced a fake smile on his face and turned to face Glenn, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

"Ahh, if it isn't the star of tonight's party, Glenn the Devil's Hand!" Talor reached out to shake his hand. Glenn looked down and extended his left, purple hand. The noble's fake smile faltered for a second as his hand hovered awkwardly before committing to the shake.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

'That's a rarely seen level of pettiness. This is worth admiring,' Diamanes commented.

"Imagine having popcorn right now," sighed Nelg. "I really can't wait to be done with all this stuff and go back to my human form. Watching life through someone else's eyes is entertaining but not as much as fooling around."

'Nobody forced you to come, Nelg,' grumbled Glenn. 'You could have been my twin brother and look good, but no, mister Nelg can't take off his armor because he feels vulnerable or some shit.'

"Look who's speaking! Hgn, my name is Glenn, I can't be in a relationship because of the two voices in my head, I'm such a loser, hgn."

'Hey, Nelg is right on that!'

Glenn clenched his eyes shut as he forced the two entities to silence, ignoring the wide-eyed Talor.

"Just call me Glenn, Sir...?" Glenn finally replied, entirely aware he looked completely insane.

Talor smiled uncomfortably. "Talor Rosenborn, Count of the Rosenborn House."

"Kay Talor," Glenn grinned wickedly as he suddenly passed his arm around the noble's shoulders, pulling him away from the others. Talor's face decomposed itself as he tightly clenched his glass of wine.

"Tell me, mister Rosenborn, I heard congratulations were in order?"

Talor restrained a sigh of relief. It was only that! He just needed to solve the misunderstanding so everything would be okay.

"Ah, indeed, the daughter of Duchess Sorenas has expressed her interest in me, and, well, politics would have it that such marriage is hard to refuse, ha...haha..." His forced laughter died out in the face of Glenn's fiery eyes. The one-eyed dragon stared at the noble unblinkingly, slowly licking its lips. Talor unconsciously gulped.

"So, just to be clear, it's Milena's family who proposed the marriage, not the Rosenborns, correct?" Glenn asked, articulating each syllable very slowly. Talor nodded silently, his back drenched in sweat. One wrong word, and he felt he would end up like the wine in his glass. Pressed, aged, and drank.

"If I've understood correctly, this means that the marriage would be null and void as long as the Sorenas withdrew their proposal, right?" Glenn squeezed Talor's shoulder a little tighter, a violent pulse of Mana coursing through him. Talor was a talented man, in his thirties and already an Expert Mage. By conventional standards, this was quite exceptional, even if he had the support of his noble family to help him rise to such heights.

And yet, faced with an Archmagi ten years his junior, he felt completely outmatched. Rumors of what the Devil's Hand had accomplished on the battlefield surged through his memories, compounding the already terrifying image he had of the young man. Drawing breaths while next to him felt like trying to drink through a meter-long straw.

"Y- You're correct again, Sir Glenn."

Glenn let his arm hang over Talor's shoulder for a moment, thinking. Finally, he shrugged and finished his glass of wine. "Very nice. Thank you." He lightly patted Talor's shoulder, who felt the pressure disappear. "Ah, one last thing. A Sorenas should be here tonight. I'm sure you know them, so just..." He gestured randomly at the crowd of discussing nobles. "Point me to them, you know."

Talor gulped heavily. If the relationship between the Rosenborns and the Sorenas soured, he would risk more than the failure of his plan; war was an entirely plausible scenario. Even if the Sorenas weren't powerful themselves, they had at their services some of the most terrifying mages, skilled in the manipulation of minds and dreams.

"D-duchess Sorena is here tonight," finally admitted Talor, collapsing under the pressure. She's the lady in a dark robe and sky-blue eyes, the one with the large emerald necklace."

Glenn grinned widely and patted Talor in the back. "That's my man. I owe you one." He walked away, leaving Talor trembling in his wake.

'That's the nice thing about nobles. You put them in the same room with an uncaring ruffian, and they either start losing their marbles or pissing their pants. Considering you can basically flatten the entire estate by yourself, the second is almost guaranteed. Great way to assert dominance!' Diamanes sent a mental thumbs-up, startling Glenn.

'I'd love nothing more than to mingle with these ass-lickers the normal way, but it feels too much like time is running out. I'd rather take the quick and easy way rather than the long and unrewarding one right now.'

'Oh, but I wasn't disagreeing with your actions, in contrary. I was encouraging you, my friend!'

'That's exactly where the problem lies, Diamanes. I shouldn't be acting in a way that pleases you, that means I'm becoming more unhinged.'

'And what's wrong with that? A few screws loose never hurt anyone! Well, no, actually they did, but you know what I mean, right? Right?'

Glenn ignored him and entered the conversation of the older ladies, of whom the duchess was one, without the slightest politeness. "Hello, hello, I'm the Devil's Hand, pleased to meet you, yes I know you have high ranked titles and all that, and I don't really care. So pretty please, just get lost so I can talk to Milena's mother."

The ladies gasped in awe at the disrespect, before fluttering away like a group of fat pigeons. The Duchess squinted at Glenn, her white gloved hand clenching her drink. Something in her appearance, her movements made him deeply uncomfortable. It was hard to point at what exactly, but it was very familiar. And it made him very, very angry for some reason he hadn't yet discovered.

"I heard of you. The Devil's Hand." She grimaced at his purple limb. "Utterly disgusting. I hope you sanitize this... thing before entering this ceremony."

Glenn nodded. "Actually, I did. I'm pretty certain I'm cleaner than the dying skin of a desperate hag."

The Duchess' eyes widened as red flushed her cheeks. "This disrespect! Do you know who I am? I will have your head on a pike—"

Glenn waved away, interrupting her. "Sure, sure, do invite me the next time you start smoking too much drugs. Anyway, I just came because I am very, very curious about what happened to my friend Milena. I heard she was supposed to return to the Court, yet..." He glanced around the ballroom, frowning. "I can't see her. Surely this wouldn't be an event that the heir of the Dela Lune family should miss, right?"

This was one thing that Lucian recommended he should say in the event of meeting the Duchess of Sorena. She couldn't stand being compared to her husband's House, and the simple mention of the name was enough to anger her. Glenn's satisfaction only climbed up as he saw the red of the Duchess' face progressively turn to purple.

"You...insolent...little...scum!" She stammered, struggling to talk.

"Oh, oh, take a deep breath, grandma, or your heart won't be able to handle it," said Glenn in worry. "I can't have Milena's mother dying on me, right? That wouldn't be proper."

His gaze suddenly hardened as all shadows of jokes and mockeries left his face. "Unless it's necessary, of course. Then, I wouldn't care so much."

The Duchess froze, the purple now turning to sickly green. She forced her lips open, struggling to get a reply out.

"My daughter's rightful place is with her family, in the Sorenas. She will marry the Rosenborns' heir, strengthen our position, and be satisfied with it. This is our business, and a filthy mercenary like you has nothing to do with it!" She pulled out a silky handkerchief and pressed it against her mouth, disgusted. "I can't stand lowborn like you. You wouldn't even be standing within the sacred enclosure of the Court, if you hadn't somehow garnered the interest of his Highness the Crown Prince. You're just a toy he'll get tired of and soon to be thrown away."

Glenn stared down at her coldly. "Maybe. But right now, I am here, and I'm more than fine burning a few houses down if that means I can get my friend back." A pulse of violent Mana surged out of him and overwhelmed the Duchess, forcing her to take a few steps back. "I hope you got the message, hag."

The Duchess hissed in anger and threw her handkerchief at him, which he didn't even bother dodging. "That's it! I ask for a duel for my honor!"

Glenn's eyebrows rose in confusion. "Honor? You sure you know what that means?" He clenched his fists and struggled to contain his rising rage. He had finally recognized what this familiar feeling was, that little something he simply couldn't understand.

"Who wanted to create good relationships and get information already?" Nelg laughed mockingly. Glenn gritted his teeth and burned away the handkerchief with an invisible spell.

'Fuck that. This bitch retches of the mosquitoes' bastards. I'm humiliating her now, and raiding her house later.'