Chapter 30: Beasts of Broken Men
The Tower of Sin stood like a monument to exquisite corruption—seven floors carved from obsidian stone and the blood of bad decisions. A structure so decadent, so grotesquely magnificent, it looked less like it had been built and more like it had seduced itself into existence.
It loomed at the city’s edge, wreathed in plumes of red fog, guarded like a vault of virgins and secrets. Each floor represented a different sin—Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Lust, Envy, Wrath, and Pride—and each one promised unfiltered indulgence. To ascend to the next floor, you didn’t just survive your vice. You had to overcome it, outwit it, or be utterly consumed in the process. Naturally, the city’s elite adored it.
Think of it as a spiritual enlightenment course, but sponsored by a sadistic playwright and a few dozen bottles of absinthe.
But entry? Ah. That was the twist.
The Tower of Sin was more heavily guarded than a virginal heir on the night of an arranged marriage. The gates were sealed tighter than a nun’s thighs, and entry was granted only by invitation—delicate, red-scribed cards passed in whispers and bribes among the powerful. Not even the Baron—who owned more brothels than teeth—had managed to snag one in the past five years.
But he did have a lead.
"I suspect," he said while fondling a naked violinist, "that one of the city’s less... reputable businessmen came into possession of a card. Nasty fellow. Human trafficking ring. Operates deep in the slums, past where even rats file tax returns."
And so, here I was. The District of Flesh, as it was called. Trudging through the most foul-smelling pit Ventri had to offer with Miko beside me, my boots slowly losing the will to live.
The slums here were a masterpiece of misery. Corrugated metal rooftops leaned like drunks against one another. Sludge-filled alleyways whispered threats in the wind. The air tasted like rust and regret, with a faint undertone of piss and cheap incense.
Red lanterns flickered overhead, bathing the streets in a low, sultry glow. Somewhere in the distance, someone screamed. No one turned to look.
"Smells like home," I muttered.