Thousands still crowded the gate. Radeon let his Myridion Seersigh wash over them, face after face, breath after breath. The tiny tells that gave a man away even when he tried to hold still.

Vengeance sat in some eyes like a hot coal. Espionage in others, the polite kind that smiled too quickly. A few were not even subtle, only probing the security to see where they might lack.

Seventy at least. Different flavors of rot. All of them memorized at once by his crystal brain.

He did not raise his voice. He did not need to. A thought sank into the faith that bound the wraiths to him, and the first task went out.

He did not need a ring. He was the storage. He was the system's mouth and stomach both. As long as their faith held, knowledge would travel.

Below ground on patrol, Calyx drifted through each gate with the boredom of a blade kept too long in its sheath.

No one wanted to cause trouble. That was the problem. Calyx and his peers had been testing features of the system for its ingenuity and simplicity.

Messaging worked cleaner than sound transmission. No need to remember every word spoken, no need to worry about distance or eavesdroppers.

They even took notes through it, shared them, argued over which arts to buy, dreaming of pooling contribution points to buy what suited them best.

They were eager for anything. A shout. A shove. A reason to be cruel and call it duty.

A flicker appeared across Calyx's sight and his four other wraith companions.

[New Task Detected]

[Open File?]

[Yes] [No]

He did not hesitate. The file opened. Faces bloomed in neat rows, each paired with intent.

Calyx grinned. The others grinned too. Radeon felt it through the thread of faith like a ripple in still water.

[Task Details: Collect information on their affiliation, their future plans, and why they are here. Do not let your wraith identity show. Make sure they remember nothing of your methods.]

[Reward: 5 Contribution Points for each person.]

The competition began at once. Wraiths were renowned for breaking both minds and hearts. They called it interrogation when they were in a good mood.

Radeon let them have it. Better their hunger turned outward than inward. Better they learned to work for points than to beg for praise.

He swept his attention across the mountain again and found Fay near the hall, whip in hand, shield strapped to her arm.

She was drilling footwork, snapping the whip through the air with tight, clean motions, then flaring her fire charges on command.

She was trying, and she was trying loudly, as if noise could prove devotion.

He had not tasked her enough. She had energy to burn and nowhere to spend it.

Radeon called her over with a wave.

"What are you doing?"

"Master, I only wish to improve my aim with the fire charges," Fay said, breath even, eyes keen.

"Fire charges?" he said. "We'll about it talk later. For now, come with me."

The three other disciples were called in as well, eager enough that they nearly tripped over their own feet.

They fell in behind Fay and walked in silence. For Radeon, it was a simple stroll.

For the four of them, it was a march to judgment. Their faces gave them away. Tight throats. Hands that could not rest.

Eyes flicking to Radeon's back as if searching for a crack in his mood.

He did not offer comfort. Comfort made soft people, and soft people died.

They reached the peak. A small pavilion sat behind the massive statue that anchored the place. The monument to Radeon's soul.

It rose like a golden buddha with twelve arms, serene at first glance, almost holy if you did not look too long.

The disciples stopped and stared, caught between awe and unease.

Their attention clung to the black tattoo lines running along the arms and the side of the face.

They squinted as if the ink moved when they were not watching.

They could not see what lay inside it. Radeon could.

If their eyes had been able to pierce the veil, they would have seen the eldritch gaze looking back.

Mouths layered within mouths, shaped from the myriad races he had once envied, then devoured.

Teeth from one species, tongues from another, hunger without a single clean name.

Radeon watched them stare and shook his head. There was a simple reason they could not see.

They had not climbed high enough. Not in cultivation. Not in evil.

They had not drunk the blood he had drunk. They had not swallowed bodies until their history forgot a race.

He sat on a wooden chair at the pavilion porch. The four disciples took the small pillow mats on the floor and folded their legs, trying to sit straight like proper students.

Radeon produced four rings. He handed one to each. His intention was not simply to train them. That was secondary.

He needed to know which of them were Heaven's children wearing mortal skin. He was certain that once his soul took a bite of undiscovered power, there would be a reaction.

A certain taste. A certain pull. Something his soul could recognize the way a predator recognized blood.

"Put them on," he said.

They obeyed. The moment the rings settled, the pupils in their eyes thinned, then vanished, as if someone had wiped the center of each gaze clean.

For a heartbeat, the mountain felt heavier. The air tightened. The heavens noticed. Radeon felt it like a lock clicking shut around him again.

Somewhere far away, others who studied the way of heaven reached out to divine the disturbance.

Curious hands. Greedy eyes. The kind of people who thought the world owed them answers if they only stared hard enough.

Radeon's curse snapped out. Not loud. Not flashy. Just inevitable. Their divinations shattered. Their minds saw nothing.

He seized the bodies of his four disciples, turning each into something like a corpse puppet. With his ghost body, he tagged them as dead.

Two of his disciples convulsed. Spice Cure foamed at the mouth and sagged forward, fingers clawing at nothing.

Gauge Point followed, jaw clenched so hard it looked like it might crack, then went slack and still.

Radeon leaned forward and pressed his will into them, mending what his bite had torn.

Fay's eyes spun, pupils skirting the edge of the whites like coins rolling in a bowl. Good Chip swayed, face draining of color.

Both of them gagged, then vomited onto the wood. Their breath came back ragged, then steadier, and their pupils returned.

Spice Cure and Gauge Point did not wake. Radeon looked down at the two unmoving bodies again and felt his heart lean toward convenience.

'Kill them. Clean. Simple. No burden.'

But Radeon's mind changed, his gaze shifted to Fay and Good Chip, both wiping their mouths with trembling hands, faces tight with the urge to clean the mess they had made.

They had soiled their master's own home. Radeon did not mind. He spoke softly.

"You two look after your brother and sister."

Fay swallowed and nodded. Good Chip nodded too, fast, eager, afraid of being seen as slow.

Radeon watched their hands as they moved. Fay dragged Spice Cure with more care than she needed.

Good Chip gripped Gauge Point under the arms and hauled, teeth clenched, refusing to complain.

That refusal was more important than obedience. Obedience could be trained. Character could not.

Radeon pointed toward the smaller houses within eyeshot of his own.

"Those are your rooms," he said. "I'm gone for a while."

He did not activate the system for them yet. The ring would watch even if they did not know it watched.

He wanted to see what happened when burden became inconvenient.

He wanted to see if a flicker of murder rose in them, not in self defense, not in necessity, but in quiet selfish relief.

If the ring tasted that intent, Radeon would start deciding whether they were worth keeping.

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