Chapter 386: Interlude - Heaven’s Wrath
Two Days Ago
If Rainier l’Eros thought being imprisoned in Heaven would be any different than being imprisoned on Ayther, he was quickly disabused of the notion as he was ordered into a cell within the lowest levels of the Black Tower.
Auriciel Victoriam sneered as he received a syringe-like device from the warden - more like a black bottlecap with needles sticking out of it. Part of him felt that it was too little punishment, inhibiting the functions of Rainier’s godflesh. But the moment he slaped the inhibitor in place, just over the man’s heart, there was a satisfying gasp and groan as Rainier collapsed under the weight of his own body.
"Feels terrible, doesn’t it," Auriciel said, watching as the white flesh began to turn grey. "You relied too much on godflesh, and look where it got you.
Against all odds, Rainier suddenly pushed off the floor and slammed a punch into Auriciel’s face. Auriciel barely felt the blow, having reinforced his body well before using the inhibitor. With a single hand, he shoved Rainier back, onto the stone floor, and left him lying there as the door was sealed.
The entire time, Rainier had remained eerily silent, and it was only when he stepped out of the prison that Auriciel let himself exhale. He was used to being hated. Those jealous of Auric Victoriam were legion, and their jealous eyes fueled his need to be better. But that was not what he had seen in Rainier’s eyes.
No, those eyes were cold. Wrathful, but cold, as if Auriciel was nothing...
The thought haunted him all the way up the elevator. But by the time he reached his uncle at the command center, he had mastered himself enough to put on a confident near-smile. Just a hair beyond professional.
"Auric, welcome," Vinam smiled from the large, rotating chair in the middle of the room. By custom, no Elevated were allowed in this place of power. Everyone here would be addressed as a peer, if not by rank.
Even with six wings out, his uncle was still relaxed in a chair that had been designed for it, and Auric wondered if the glowing wingrests had something to do with making the chair move, or if it was a simple matter of flexing one’s mana.
"Your paramour is proving untraditionally apt at hand-to-hand combat, in a manner of speaking." He gestured at one screen, which showed Cassiel in a training yard, overwhelming two squads of Elevated with hundreds of hands made of magic, a spell series she’d named Hekatonkeries after something in an old book one of her old friends had dug up. The way she fought was brutish today, likely due to her lingering frustrations over Rain’s infidelities and insufficiencies.