Sexy Sect Babes Three: Chapter Twenty Four (Patreon)

“Here is as good a place as any other,” Shi stated as she glanced around the grass clearing they’d found outside the walls of Fortress Five. “Lacking a proper arena, this clump of dirt is where we shall decide the fate of your little ‘kingdom’.”

Jack glanced back at the walls of the fortress, deliberately ignoring the jabs of the Inquisitor, even as his people riled in response.

An, in particular, looked like she was trying to immolate the woman with her eyes. Alas, it seemed the Dao of laser-eyes was yet beyond the cat-girl. Though he’d be concerned if it wasn’t.

Because if he didn’t have access to lasers, he’d be damned if the locals did.

Oh, blueprints for mining laser designs had certainly existed in earlier iterations of the HEV suit’s designs. They even survived the first purge of weapon designs that said suits underwent after the Canyon Massacre. Said designs did not survive the second purge that occurred after the Velusion Plains Bloodbath.

Sure, productivity took a dip after miners were reduced to more… kinetic means of mining, but the Corpos decided that a small loss in speed and efficiency was still cheaper than occasionally being forced to teleport miners – and their reasonably expensive suits - halfway across the universe each time some barely literate ex-con got a little kill crazy.

“And I suppose it’s just coincidence that this spot is beyond the range of my fortress’s gonnes?” Jack asked idly.

Shi smiled. “Gonnes? Is that what you call them? Crude at best. We shall have to find a more suitable moniker once you have been brought into the Imperial fold.”

Jack was reasonably sure another divinity might well have killed a person for talking to them like that. Even Yating, for all his outwardly easy-going nature could be surprisingly prickly on that front. And he was known as the ‘laughing divinity’.

She’s testing me, he realized. Trying to push me to see if I react. If I can react.

He was pretty sure she still held doubts about his divine nature. Which was not unfair, given that she only had secondhand accounts from dubious sources like Yating from which to draw the conclusion that he was a divinity.

An issue that he could have solved by flexing his almost godlike ki to any doubters, but Jack didn’t really have that option. Instead, he simply had to limp on through the inference of transitive properties and whatever mighty feats he could muster.

Speaking of which, he thought.

He raised his hands, inwardly smirking at the subtle tensing of just about everyone in the Inquisitor’s party as they prepared for some kind of eruption.

Not that it would do them much good if he really were a divinity. Twenty cultivators wouldn’t last a minute against the likes of Yating.  Not least of all because, excluding Shi, only two of them were inquisitors. The other thirteen were a swarthy group of ‘regular’ cultivators clad in outfits that suggested they were from different sects.

Admittedly, there was also the fact that the group before him weren’t all the cultivators Shi had in the area. Lin’s drone overhead had caught glimpses of other figures flitting about in the forests beyond. Not enough to get a clear view of their numbers, but enough to know there more out there.

“If, Madame Inquisitor, if. We have a saying about not counting chickens before they’ve hatched back home.” He smiled. “And you may want to stand back. Seeing as you were most insistent on this little showdown occurring on neutral ground, it seems that it falls to me to make sure the fate of my new home does not occur on bare dirt.”

A low chitter entered the clearing as his microbots slithered out from his clothes, drawing looks of alarm from the Imperials. Looks that only grew as the mass of black metal swelled in size, until it was a roaring mass of glistening fury the size of a house that writhed around him like the arms of some mighty kraken submerged just beneath the dirt.

“By the Empress,” one of the women swore.

Glancing back, Jack was a little amused to see that while none of his inner circle were too alarmed by the arrival of his ‘spirit beast’, some of his own soldiers had backpedaled considerably – drawing none-too-subtle glares from both An and Gao in the process.

Chuckling, he turned his attention to the now empty area in front of him. Well, mostly empty. The Imperial hadn’t quite drawn back far enough not to clip the boundaries of the structure he had in mind, but he was sure they’d make space when things started moving.

So it was that his microbots started spreading out like a growing puddle, eating up more and more ground as they chittered onwards, making more than one Imperial leap backwards.

“What are you doing!?” Shi shrieked, eyes wide as the mass moved outwards, her hand on her weapon without quite drawing it.

Jack laughed. “Building.”

In moments, an area the size of a football field had been covered, the mass of black metal twisting and writhing atop the grass as the Imperials stared on. Alas, they saw only the surface, the real event was happening below.

Jack could feel it through his implants as dirt flowed into his inventory as his microbots excavated the foundations of his new arena. To the misfortune of any subterranean animals that happened to be in their path, for while his inventory refused to accept organic matter, that did not keep the mass of metallic hexagons from mincing both plants and creatures alike before crudely shoveling the resulting viscera ‘to the side’ of the area he was creating.

Specially cut stone and metal flowed forth to fill the void that had just been created, forming the foundation of the arena he planned to create. Indeed, as the mass of microbots pulled away, the Imperials saw that where once grass stood, there was now a smooth surface of glistening stone.

“H-how?” Shi was the first to recover, gaze turning to him, and for the first time he saw real fear there.

It seemed that with this small act, he’d proven on some level his bonafides as a ‘divinity’. Or at least, taken a step in that direction.

A journey he planned to complete as he ignored the woman’s question, summoning forth more stone, more metal.

Dust flew up into the air as the microbots acted like grinders, drilling into the foundation to bolt the first steps of his arena in place.

Normally, he’d have used concrete, but on this occasion it was speed that was the name of the game. To that end, a few nanomachines were included in the mass. Something he normally avoided given the irreplaceable nature of the microscopic machines relative to his pea sized microbots, but on this occasion he considered the small loss of a few well worth it as an arena worthy of a god started to form before his eyes.

It was no Roman coliseum. He had neither the time, nor the inclination, for that kind of mammoth structure.

No, he was going for quality over quantity, as marble pillars slammed down in place, their white exterior gilded with exquisite tableaus formed from silver, brass and gold. Each depicting some kind of battle or triumph, rendered with the kind of inhuman precision that only a machine could produce.

And on top of those pillars an arena was raised. Marble and jade held interlocked in a checkerboard pattern, the restraining walls on each side formed of glistening steel. From there, the machines flowed down again, forming the steps that would allow someone on ground level to ascend to the battlefield above. Each step was inlaid with precious gems and jewels in a manner so crass as to make Jack inwardly wince at the garishness of it.

Next, the black mass moved onto the audience’s seats, themselves raised on the same pillars as the arena so as to give them a vantage point on the fights to come. Each chair was a throne. Some were made of stone. Some calcified wood. Some gold. Or silver. Or jade.

One chair stood out amongst those positioned on the far right though; sat in a central position, a small amount of distance kept from all the others, it was a throne of pure gold, bedecked with jewels, a dragon’s head looming over the back of it, fangs bared with all the fury of a raging god, eyes of jade that glimmered in the sunlight.

Yet, it was not the dragon throne that invariably drew the eye of any onlooker. That right was reserved for the seat across from it, on the far side of the arena. It was not any kind of ornamentation that drew the eye.

Rather it was a lack of it.

Pure steel, it lacked even a hint of ornamentation with a kind of minimalism that seemed to stretch out from it like the tendrils of some metallic creature, forcing the gilding that covered everything like vines to shy away.

Cold and brutal, there was no doubt for whom that throne was intended.

Ignoring the awed gazes of the Imperials as they gazed up at the lavish raised structure that had formed in minutes before their very eyes, Jack moved towards his new throne.

He did not walk. He did not need to. His microbots reached out to him with all the awe and tenderness of a supplicant reaching to their king. He floated forward, under a wave of chittering black metal, up the stairs and across the arena.

Until finally, he was deposited upon his throne.

“Well,” he said casually, his voice booming out from his suit’s speakers beyond the borders of the new structure to where both his allies and enemies were stood frozen upon the grass. “Let’s get this over with.”

Because while he was doing this whole thing in the name of buying time, he couldn’t wait to see this eyesore demolished and the components used to create it repurposed to something useful.

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Shi was shaken. She would freely admit that much, even as she sat on the golden throne that was clearly intended for her. Her gaze flitted across to where the divinity – for there was no doubt that was what he was now – sat.

She was… if not regretting some of her earlier words, then re-evaluating them under this new light.

Not least of all because of the message the man was clearly sending.

Her hands ran across the smooth gold of her throne. Pure gold. And as soft and malleable as only pure gold could be. A show of lavish wealth, but such a metal was ultimately useless as a weapon. Taken by itself, the gesture could easily be seen as one of respect, if it weren’t for the contrast Johansen had created with his own throne.

Steel.

Unadorned and brutal.

As sure a sign as any that the man saw himself as a being of war, detached from the fripperies of courtly etiquette. A peculiar choice for a being that was clearly a craftsman first and foremost, but now that she thought on the subject, she found it fitting.

For she had seen with her own eyes that while the man was a creator, the things he created fomented destruction.

The firework launcher or gonne. The fortress behind them. Even this arena for all its lavish exterior was ultimately a place where women would fight and die.

He was no artisan. No artist. He was a blacksmith and weapons were his trade.

…And he was something the Empire desperately needed. Not least of all, because he was no magister or djinn as she had once suspected given his clearly foreign origins.

She had felt his ki, emanating from the strange spirit beast he had called forth. For while he clearly went through great effort to hide his own, his beast was clearly not so well practiced. And while Shi was no beast tamer or spirit master herself, she well knew that the ki of both beast and owner were near indistinguishable as a result of their contract.

And the beast had ki. Strange and as metallic as any she’d ever felt, but there.

“Shall we begin, Madam Shi?” The man’s voice rumbled unnaturally across the arena.

She nodded, gaze flitting over her own assembled people, sat on their thrones, to the men and women in the thrones opposite them.

Idly, she wondered who amongst them would be the champion of this first bout? She doubted it would be the man himself. Because she would be forced to summon Yating from her camp in response. And this arena would not survive a clash of divinities.

He’d likely save himself for the final bout – an eventuality Shi had no intention of letting come about.

She need only win once. A concession made in respect to the realities of the strategic difference between the Empire and Johansen’s forces. By contrast, the man needed to win every bout.

He would only be sending his best.

Thus, she discounted the mortals entirely. Even if the man had apparently found a use for them as wielders of his mystic tools, he’d be a fool to think that they would be a match for a cultivator. Which left his-

She paused.

Without even a word or a gesture from the divinity, one of the mortals had stood up and was making her way down to the arena floor. She was a little different from the other mortals. Not a guard, given her robes and the veil across her face.

Shi had thought her some manner of aide when she had mentally catalogued the opposition.

An aide that walks with the gait of a warrior, she now realized, noting that there were a myriad of devices slung about her hips.

There was something familiar about her… something in the way she…

Shi sat up, lightning rippling through her spines as crackles of electricity sparked across her skin.

He wouldn’t.

She wouldn’t.

Uncaring of the observers around her, she leapt through the air, landing heavily upon the arena floor, cracks radiating out from the marble tile on which she landed.

The woman didn’t flinch as the Inquisitor reached up to tear the veil from her face, the gossamer fabric coming away easily to reveal the steady golden eyes of her sister.

“Huang,” Shi breathed, relief rippling through her.

The woman smiled softly back, the surprisingly demure expression on her face a far cry from the firecracker of a younger sibling she recalled all those years ago, as the girl crowed about having attained a position as city magistrate in the Empire’s Northern Reaches.

A position she’d been forced to fight five consecutive duels against equally ambitious siblings to attain.

Shi had not been one of them. She had been a part of the Inquisition—and High-Inquisitor besides—since long before her half-sibling had been born.

And that was the moment, Shi recalled. She had mistaken the woman for a mortal. And now, up close, she could feel it. The damage to her sibling’s core.

Damage that said that in all ways that mattered, she truly was now a mortal.

“What has become of you?” the Inquisitor asked, her tone flitting between concern and… disgust.

Her sister looked away, shame on her face. Well deserved shame, for her to allow herself to be paraded around like this was… the loss of face was unthinkable.

It was all Shi could do not to plunge her fist through the chest of her half-sibling, to save both Huang and the Imperial Clan the shame of one of their own being reduced to this… sub-life.

Sparks crackled in the air. “Did… did he do this?”

“No!”

Shi’s head jerked in surprise at the sudden vehemence in her half-sister’s voice.

The other woman continued, surprising strength in her tone despite her circumstances. “I fought the Red Death.”

Ah, little more needed to be said then. For all her disdain for them, to fight a divinity was suicide. And while she was aware the hypocrisy of her statement, given her antagonism of the one who had apparently slain that said same beast, she knew she would not be so forward without the Rooster’s presence.

With the Imperial divine present Shi was not afraid to die. Not if doing so gave the Imperial ancestor an opening to act.

Not that it would come to that. To rely on the cowardice of an immortal in the face of possible danger was a bulwark as secure as the walls of the Capital itself.

“Yet you live?” Shi asked neutrally, her experience as an inquisitor coming to the fore despite herself.

Huang gestured back, a small amount of… was that bashfulness entering her posture?

“Jack saved me.”

His first name. Spoken with a degree of familiarity.

Suddenly, Huang’s role in his organization made sense.

She was a concubine.

A trophy.

“You should have ended yourself.” Shi’s words were firm. “To save us from this dishonor.”

Including yourself, went unsaid.

Yet, rather than shy away from her censure, Haung straightened. “As you said, I should have died when I fought the Red Death. And in many ways I did. After a lifetime dedicated to the Empire and our Mother, I gave everything I had. Down to the very last spark of my soul.” The woman’s hands brushed against what Shi was now sure were the weapons at her side. “Yet because of one stubborn man, it seems this body yet remains. So… it seems only fair that for what time it has left, I live for myself.”

There was an earnestness in that statement, a sense of contentment Shi had never seen before in her younger sibling.

She couldn’t even bear to look at her.

For one of the Imperial clutch to have fallen so low? To abandon the ideals for which they were raised. To turn her back on the woman to whom she owed her very existence? To dare stand against her interests and side with an outlander?

“Disgusting,” Shi muttered, before turning her gaze up to the stands above as she pitched her voice. “I see your ploy now, Johansen. To send my own traitorous kin against me. Do you expect me to stay my hand out of sympathy for the woman she once was?”

The metal titan simply cocked his head. “Merely making a point, Madam Shi. Through my tools, I’d bet even a ‘mortal’ against any cultivator you care to send against her. Huang was chosen merely because I thought it might be cathartic for her.”

Shi’s blood boiled as her sister twitched as Johansen continued.

“The question is, are you too cowardly to match my wager? Will you send an elephant to crush an ant because you would not bet the least of your cultivators against a single mortal?”

Shi knew she was being baited. The man had just about said as much. Yet she could not resist. For while it was tempting to nominate herself, and end this farce here and now, there would be no true satisfaction in it.

Using a peak expert against a mortal… the loss of face would be unimaginable.

Shi glanced at her sibling and knew that whoever she sent against her would win regardless. Perhaps that might have been different were her chosen champion ignorant of the firework launcher’s capabilities, but Shi had long since briefed all the people brought with her.

“Xinyi,” she shouted to one of the sect elders she had brought with her, not taking her gaze from Johansen for even a moment. “Send down one of your initiates.”

She would end this farce here and now.

…For the Empire.