Slumrat Rising

Truth waited and watched. The site supervisor frantically hit a gem. Then again, changing a little light on the glass “stone” from blue to orange. Then he clumsily dumped far too much expensive oil into the communication altar and gripped the sides of it hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

Truth was trying to just exist. Coasting along the waves of chance and connection and seeing where his path was leading him. Embracing his inner fool, perhaps. The supervisor was sweating, rolling, fat droplets pouring down his face. He turned looking around the room, trying to guess where Truth could be. “It’s. It’s done. She’s coming. Twenty minutes.”

He didn’t even nod. He just sat and waited. Waiting in the dark.

Thirty minutes later, the door slammed open. A well dressed young lady stormed in. Truth could spot that she came from real money- she looked tailored, but normal. New money didn’t get it. New money wanted you to know about how rich they were.

Old Money? Old money could buy a new designer tee-shirt every day of the week, every week, forever. And so could everyone they knew. Nobody gave a shit about your designer tee-shirt. There was nobody you were going to impress with your clothes. You needed to look put together. Look your rank and your role. Beyond that? A twenty three thousand wen purse just got a sneer. You want to impress someone? Buy the bag factory.

Sung Sahni came in wearing black pants, a white blouse, gold earrings and enormous sunglasses. And that was that. She wasn’t even wearing shoes. She didn’t need to. Everywhere she stepped, a soft carpet unrolled under her feet.

He smiled a little at the carpet. It was some kind of minor demon. The end of the carpet was constantly being pulled through the center and pushed out the front, the side, wherever Sahni wanted to step. Clever. Useless, but clever. Perhaps it had some sort of defensive function. Sahni had been followed in by an aid- sheath skirt, high heels and a jacked blouse combination that said the owner was very professional and wouldn’t you just love to see what was underneath.

Well, he knew how to manage a succubus. Sahni herself was level three, and roughly forty. Not a trace of body cultivation.

“Where are these so called inspectors!”

Truth shut the door behind them, not particularly quietly. And locked it.

“You will all have a seat.”

Truth’s voice wasn’t particularly loud. It didn’t have to be. The carpet rose up from the floor, taking the shape of a stout man, and moving to stand in front of Sahni. The Succubus also stepped forward, subtle enchantments weaving through the air towards him.

Truth released his tight grip on his presence. His level, and the power of the Brass Sea, hammered on the air.

“If you will not sit, then you will kneel.” Incisive was in there too. They were in the room with a great serpent. Whether they left alive or not was no longer up to them. The succubus didn’t kneel. “She” genuflected, forehead pressed against the ground. The man-shaped demon glanced over at his demonic co-worker, then did the same.

Shani didn’t want to kneel. He could see it. She was trying to fight it. He just watched her. Met her eyes. Calmly. Steadily. She took one knee, and slowly clasped her hands.

The site supervisor was kneeling in a puddle of his own piss. The pressure was too much for him. Truth could see his eyes starting to roll up into the back of his head.

Truth gave Thrush a look. The little demon flew over, collected the Manager’s desk chair and set it down behind Truth. Truth sat. He could feel the “reality” shifting around these people, these demons. He could see them filling in “truths,” finding explanations, inventing stories. Reshaping their realities to anchor their minds in this confrontation. Likely only the Succubus knew what they were doing.

He let the pressure build in the room. “Who’s idea was it to feed the dead kids into the meat grinder?”

There was silence. He let it grow. After a silent count of three, he flicked his finger. The fangs of Incisive punctured the supervisor's thigh.

“AAHH!. Ahhh! I was just obeying orders!”

Truth looked over at Sahni. “I never ordered such a thing. Never.”

He waited. Not for long. “I ordered the bodies to be disposed of cheaply. We are required by law to do that!”

Truth could kind of see it. The state certainly didn’t want to get stuck with the burial costs. He looked back over at the supervisor, who was squeezing above the wound, trying to slow the blood loss. “We were ordered to destroy the bodies, and the next sentence was to “do something” about food costs, particularly meat. It was obvious what the order was.”

“Bullshit! Don’t put your sick urges on me, you-”

“You brought dead kids to a food processing plant. Just what did you think we were going to do with them?” Interesting. The supervisor had snapped. A combination of pain and fear, and all that built up horror. Well, he was just speculating.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“How dare you!”

Truth raised his hand, silencing the room. He flicked his eyes over to the succubus. “How much of this was her being an incompetent and disposable junior, and how much of this was orders from higher up?”

“Great one, this slave’s bindings-”

He flicked his fingers once more, Incisive stabbing through the knot of spellwork holding the demon bound. It was competently done, but this succubus was barely at Thrush’s level.

“These few businesses have been left in her hands to oversee, but any substantial business, particularly any contracts or the like, are handled by an older cousin. This food plant and the sweatshop are significant to local family interests, but ultimately exist to provide access to more lucrative military and governmental contracts.”

“So the Sung family doesn’t know about the dead kids, or if it does, it’s considered such a minor matter as to not be worth mentioning.”

“It is likely that they know and don’t care. I am unsure of the exact arrangements, but it is well understood that the more… hedonistic… juniors are quietly supervised from the shadows. Not for their protection, but the families.”

Truth nodded. It was all just so… logical. He could see it clearly- a directive given at the top, and the orders descending through the hierarchy, each time filtered through people who only cared about results, not means.

He looked back over to Sahni. “How much of your family is in this city?”

“Me, a few cousins. A few uncles and aunts. I don’t know how many retainers. I guess, maybe a hundred of the family? Ten of the main line?”

“Where?”

“We are spread all over. I mean you can’t expect me-”

Truth stabbed her leg with the fang. She collapsed screaming and grabbing her leg.

“Where?”

“Fucking I told you-”

He stabbed her foot, feeling the fragile bones break and the strong tendons snap.

“Where?”

“I don’t know what you want!” She was crying now. Not sobbing but tiers were running from under her sunglasses.

He stabbed her again, other foot this time. “Where do you wish you were, right now? Where do you want to run to?”

“Uncle Karz! He has a villa on Shobvic Hill. Big villa, lots of guards!”

Was there anything he wanted from her? He really couldn’t think of anything.

“You, rug demon. Report your nature.”

“This low creature is an earth demon, Lord. It is my glory to serve.”

Classic earth demon, right there. With another flick of his will, he shattered the demon’s bindings.

“You two will eat those two alive, then you will be permitted to return to Hell. Make sure you leave a mess.”

“Wait, no. NO! I can tell you-”

Truth got up and walked out the door, Thrush flying behind him.

It was a long walk to Shobvic Hill. He still didn’t know what he wanted, or why he was doing this. He wasn’t helping anything. Certainly wasn’t getting closer to killing Starbrite. It was just… those blank eyes and shaking hands. When he was growing up, it was Hell, but it was a Hell he could fight. He could scheme and plan and figure out how to make things happen. How to work around the obstacles.

These kids couldn’t do that. The second that first glyph went on their forehead, they had died. The Slum had won. Every second of the rest of their life went only to making someone else money. Even their death improved someone else’s quarterly performance reports. No chance of resistance. No chance of making something better.

No chance of ever becoming more than a mindless machine. Not even an animal. Not even a rat. Just a component. A machine in a system of machines.

Was it Cup and Knife digging an elbow into his soul? Insisting that he go out and Fix This NOW? Maybe. Maybe. Or maybe it was the rat inside of him, screaming at the notion of no-way-out. At not even being allowed to fight for a future.

The Sung Clan residence was rather classically old money. Smaller than you would think, and absolutely nothing to look at from the outside. Thick plaster cement walls, topped with decorative (but extremely spiky) metal leaves.

Over the top of the walls, just peeking over, was an elegantly designed house in bright yellow, with a black terracotta roof and bright, wide windows. Other than the discreet brass plaque by the door, you would never guess that it was the primary residence in the city for one of the most powerful clans in the country.

Hidden recording talismans watched from dozens of angles. He could practically smell the hidden demons in the ground, the golems built into the gateway, the mines dotting the small yard and gardens around the house. The patrolling security guards with their spellhounds were pretty obvious, as was the door guard.

Interestingly, the compound was actually warded against higher level intruders. He smiled a little at that. Threat model- who is coming after this place? Random thieves? No problem, guards will handle that. Higher level combatants from other families? That was a much larger problem.

He looked over the place briefly. Could he break in? Yes, eventually. Wouldn’t even take that long, really, if he was willing to utterly brute force it. If he could break into a volcano lair, high end commercial security certainly wouldn’t be keeping him out. But did he want to?

Truth picked up a stone roughly the size of his palm. He trimmed it down into a small, flat disk, and then was stuck. He really had no hand for art. Never practiced it, so he never got good.

Could he draw a rat? He started trying to trace the shape in his mind and quickly gave up. His skills were at the stick figure level. He drew a human. A series of sticks with a circle on top. A nice tidy definition of humanity if there ever was one.

He pressed the rock disk between his hands and started pouring energy into it. Not trying to add any reality warping effects to it, just empowering it, as much as its crude materials would hold. He looked at the carving on it again, and smiled. It was the same stick figure, but now it seemed to be hiding mysteries. One might stare at it for hours, puzzling out the subtle clues the creator hid within it.

He sniggered at that, then tapped the guard. “Hey.”

“Woah! Sir, you need to step back-”

“No. Shut up and listen. This rock,” he held it up. "Goes to Karz. He has a problem. Not a particularly big problem by itself, it’s more what it signifies. It won't take him long to figure out. I’ll be back tonight and then we will have a nice chat, he and I.”

Truth smiled at the man, then hammered him with his killing intent. “Either that, or I exterminate the Sung Clan in this city and burn this house down, with everyone nailed to the floor inside of it. His call.”

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!