Aurora Scroll

Fuck! I love this part of my life! Don't you think so, Faiya?

Darth Tanael had slain his enemies. The armor he replicated with Soul Gear Liquid Arte. The laser sword from the Magisterium raid, he couldn't resist not using it for too long. The temptation was too much. Therefore, even though it was risky, Viers allowed his clone to bring it with him to the Tower of Remorse raid.

Of course, should it be lost, Viers had already copied its design. It wouldn't be easy but he could make another. Besides, his clone needed some supplies and equipment for the raid ahead to be successful. The potential gains were too great to ignore so Viers made the investment.

The elemental of fire resided in the Beam Saber, improving the weapon’s parameters. He agreed with Tanael wholeheartedly. There was a charm like no other about mowing down your enemies with extreme prejudice. It never got old.

Tanael didn't know how much his main body’s Horizon would grow once they merged because of that little stunt. He wanted to do more as Darth Tanael but it was time for the next act.

He walked past the human remains, looting everything that he needed as he strode forth. He didn't need to personally squat and rummage through the corpses; his telekinesis took their inventory items easily and their souls couldn't pass on to the afterlife without his permission. They needed to pay the ferryman and Charon-Tanael took payment for his services. It was the most natural thing in the world.

Even when just the clone version of him could decimate these people with ease, Viers could still find uses for them.

Tanael destroyed the door in front of him and finally arrived at the Tower of Remorse’s hidden floor.

Eyes were on him. The prisoners in their cells, every one of them looked at him. The place was small compared to the vastness of the main five floors, just the size of a football court, perhaps?

Ten... Twenty... Thirty-four. Just thirty-four convicts in the gacha pool. Let’s see how many I can get.

No longer in his Sith outfit, Tanael approached the thirty-fifth guy in the room, the prison guard who ran away. There was no way out, so he was just cowering at the edge, hoping for some miracle. When Tanael came closer, the guy’s fear was no longer contained.

“Please, I’ll do anything. Just let me-”

“I’ll let you live,” Tanael said to the guy who was already on his knees.

“...Huh?”

“Tell them what you see here. Deadman tells no tales after all. Spread the deeds of Tanael far and wide... Terrance Graham.”

“H-h-how do you know my name?” Terrance said with a mixed expression of disbelief, fear, and shock.

Tanael just gave a knowing smile and turned away. His main audience awaits.

He took a moment to survey the surroundings. The name of the floor was Bleeding Hearts. Men and women here had blood red stains on their prison clothes, as if there was an open wound on their torsos.

Tanael’s soul searches on the prison guards confirmed that there actually was a gaping hole on their chest. With each heartbeat, each drop of blood they shed, the convicts felt extreme agony and guilt. Their existence was now about thinking back about their misdeeds and owning regret, such was the design of this floor.

He didn't know why they were still alive with such a condition -their powers sealed and all- but it had something to do with this place. Unlike the tree punishment of the previous floor, their punishment seemed more mundane but at least they had the prospect of release.

These people had no such hope. Here they would stay until their death because of their crimes. The Church also tried to erase the records of these individuals, removing them from the pages of history.

All in all, just like Impel Down. Perhaps the creator of the Tower of Remorse might be an otherworlder.

Since this was the stage that he was given, Tanael felt compelled to act his part. Time for a jailbreak of the ages.

“Greetings, you scallywags. Damned souls that are meant to rot here forever. My name is Tanael and I offer you a path of salvation!”

He was not wearing Darth Vader's mask, for talking to people a flesh and blood face was better, even though it was a disguise.

Despite his tone that sounded like a shady pirate shouting randoms after entering a tavern, the convicts had no other option but to give him their attention.

Some with interest. Some with scorn. Some with apathy.

“A brat. What makes you worthy of talking with the likes of us?”

Undoubtedly, the guy who said that belonged to the second group.

“Fascinating, to think you still think of yourself as some sort of a big shot,” Tanael chuckled. “Well, you still got some fire in you, at least.”

This story has been stolen from NovelFire. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“Watch your words, boy,” the unkempt, dirty man gave him a murderous look. “If you know who you’re talking to, you’d be trembling in-”

Tanael’s wild laugh echoed in the closed chamber.

“Oh, this is so rich, like a cat bristling to make itself seem bigger. Alright, that’s enough wasting time. So, people, join my crew.”

“That’s your price for releasing us?” A different prisoner asked.

“Correct,” Tanael said.

“What’s the catch?” Yet another different person asked.

“One hundred years,” Tanael raised a finger and smiled. “Pledge yourself wholly to me for one hundred years, rectified with oaths and bindings. Only those that agree will I set free.”

To no one’s surprise, the convicts clamored in anger. Not everyone, but most of them. Tanael looked at the ones that showed no signs of rejection. They were the potential ones who might say yes.

“You demand servitude out of me? I’ll tear you apart!”

There were a dozen others but Tanael remained smiling cordially.

“Come now. It will only be a century. You Level 5s can live for around five. I can easily make the term until your death. Besides, you’re already wasting your life here anyway. Better you use it for something more productive, joining my crew, for example.”

“For some of us, we do not have the lifespan,” an old woman scoffed.

“Granny, even if you only have ten years or so I will take it. The term is still one hundred years, though. To clarify, during the time of service, you’ll receive holiday breaks. You may use it to resolve unfinished business on the surface. Do extraordinary feats, and you’ll get more free time. Even a reduction of your years of service is on the table. This will clearly be written in the contract. How about it? A damn good deal, no? Would you rather rot in this dank hole for the rest of your life?”

Tanael let the silence stay as the prisoners thought of his propositions. He saw more faces of derision than not. It was fine. Tanael did not expect all of them would join his crew.

“Enough, kid. No one’s going to be a slave to a Level 4 weakling like you. If you know what’s good for you then open these cages. After that then maybe, maybe we’ll give you some benefit or two.”

Tanael refrained from sighing. Even now, some of these people don't understand their position. They had nothing to bargain him with and still!... Yeah, people are retarded. Even being Level 5 couldn't change that fact.

“I’ll do it.”

Before Tanael could go too deep into his disappointment, the first fish bit the hook. Oh, he didn't pretend anything but, just an opportunist fisherman. However, the fish also knew it was bait, yet it still bit. He turned to the speaker.

“Jordan, you coward! Have you no pride!?”

“Asshole! We could have pressed him!”

“You’re going to be a slave willingly? Shame on you.”

“Jordan, I’m going to remove your tongue myself!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!”

Tanael’s Conqueror’s Haki, his Spirit Supremacy Arte, silenced the mob. The power of his soul, the immensity of his soul cultivation, utterly deterred the convicts. More eyes with the hint of interest on him now. These convicts were all seasoned Level 5s and they should know about body, mind and soul cultivation progress.

Despite being only Level 4, the young man before them had a greater soul than theirs in their heyday. And it wasn't just a bit stronger. It was like comparing lizards to dragons, monkeys to humans, utterly different. Minds began to turn.

Tanael paid them no mind and walked closer to the man who took his offer. He looked like a middle-aged man, a bit scrawny.

“What’s your name?”

“Jordan.”

“Last name?”

“No longer have it. Is it a problem?”

“Perhaps not. As long as you’re good in a fight. Are you?”

“It’ll take a while to recover. The work done to us... It isn't meant to be recoverable. Still, our fighting days aren't over yet for most of us. You’ll still get Level 5 minions with the power that title entails. Not sure how useful we’ll be in the immediate future, though. How warm is the welcoming party out there?”

The convicts were no different than dried fish, bereft of Victa. Even if Tanael released them from their prison, their fighting strength would be very low until they got some of their Victa back.

“Pretty honest, aren't you? Well, we aren't going out here smoothly. We’re going to need to fight our way out. However, it is within my calculations that I’ll be leading out weakened crimelords, no matter how fearsome you used to be. What I’ll need your power for is after the breakout. Changed your mind, Jordan?”

The man shook his head. “Be it slavery or selling my soul to the devils, I’ll gladly take it for a day on the surface. Tanael, give me that and my sword is yours until my last breath.”

“Your battle style and Level?”

“I was a Latias Knight in the past... Level 5, high.”

“Good enough. Here's the contract. Speak it out loud for your fellow prisoners to hear.”

Jordan did so with no nonsense. The oaths he swore bound him threefold: He swore on his Intio, effectively would end his life and cultivation should he break it. Then Tanael brought a potent magical item with an oath-binding effect. Lastly, Tanael used his own powers to facilitate a soul oath between them. He would be taking big-name villains stronger than him as underlings, so he would take no risk and come prepared.

The wording of the oaths themselves was not long but there were no loopholes. He put the strictest wordings then consulted with ninety-nine lawyers for quality checks. Those lawyers might be only souls but Viers could still pick their brains.

Basically, for one hundred years, they would be Viers’ minions. They cannot go against his orders, act maliciously towards him, or try to subvert the spirit of the pledge.

Calling it a slave oath was not untrue because Viers would have almost total control over the oath-takers. Still, to assuage them, Viers put a clause that he couldn't order their deaths without them intending to betray or cause harm to him first.

“Welcome aboard, Jordan.”

Tanael released him from his cell and manacles. The man gave him an appreciative nod while caressing his wrists then stood behind him.

“Who’s next? Come on now, I haven't got all day.”

“...Why are you doing this?” One of the prisoners asked. “You get us out of here, then what?”

“APES!”

Tanael suddenly raised both of his hands with a loud voice.

“TOGETHER.”

He clenched both of his fists tightly and firmly.

“STRONG.”

Slowly, he brought his two fists touching each other in front of his chest.