Grisla, with barely a smirk over him watched the disciple rush him in the cramped hallway. A natural martial artist, too. He wasn’t shabby from Seri’s perspective. His overwhelmed opponent backstepped as much as he could, matching him blow for blow but lacking the power to take the lead. When Grisla’s back hit the wall accidently the disciple sneered, “Not my opponent!” and his fierce kick pinned him to it, like a bug struck by a toothpick. Damage Grisla couldn’t afford to take, the result of which had a new rivulet of blood escape his lips.

In Limbo, Seri gave a look to the four.

“Wait,” the Vermillion Bird said as it beat its wings.

“But why? He hasn’t recovered fully; he could die here!”

Black Tortoise snickered. “Who’s dying? Just watch, Herald.”

She believed in her masters, she really did, but…. If the need comes, she’ll jump in herself and do something if they won’t.

The disciple eased up the pressure from his leg, albeit slightly. “There’s a chance here for you. ‘Give it, or I take it’ you said? Well well, it looks like that’s more for you, you arrogant bastard.” He punctuated by retracting his last action, now putting double the force into it, as if he were trying to drill his leg and Grisla through the wall. Certain pain must be there—yet the boy hadn’t made a sound, not a puff from pain or a clench in agony. The disciple must’ve been fighting wood shaped like a man.

“I don’t have all day to deal with you! Tell me what’s it going to be!”

The wooden man lifted his head, speaking through the blood on his lips: “We are many things; I am but one of them. And…” he sneered, saying, “…the man named Grisla Orlith, has never been a liar.”

Suddenly the disciple released his pin on the boy. Hitherto, Grisla’s aura was a resting python in the grass. But now…. An unnatural laugh ran through this hallway, the maker forcing out air as though a body-snatcher stole Grisla’s body to deliver a horrible imitation. The disciple’s sweat rolled to his chin; his feet slowly slid back to the escape behind him.

“W–who are you!”

“We are many; and I am but one of them. I said this… before. Avarice is my name.”

“You are lucky, so much, and you would never know. If I were one of the others….” He laughed at his imagination.

“Deal given. Rejected, it has. Now…” Grisla rolled his neck, and said, “you will be punished.”

A jolt ran up Seri’s spine. Compared to all those she’s felt in her time, it would be nothing in comparison. However—Grisla Orlith, clan member of the Grittus family and the Cardinal Four’s substitute disciple, has never done so. Until now. It shouldn’t be possible. Not for a long while, at least.

The man is a Solidification realm cultivator! How?!

She wanted to ask, but the four were so invested into what’s happening in Grisla’s realm that they might not even answer her at the speed she wished. Not only that… she herself was drawn to watch: Who is Grisla? And what will he do next?

Surprisingly, the disciple had something of a spine. No matter how shaken he was by his opponent’s second wind, it didn’t stop the man from channeling his Juva with the signs he weaved. But Grisla—

But Grisla stood there. Watching him.

The disciple’s palm vibrated; one could tell the attack wasn’t perfected, as the boy’s perspiration coated him. Yet, it did not stop him. “Take this, and leave my sight! Ten Rivers Palm!” To a Solidification realm Grisla, it was a high threat, expertise or not. He wasn’t even close to Grisla and he released the technique anyway. A faint palm image blossomed into life. It sped with ruthless intent to the target: Grisla.

It would be like scratching an itch for a divinity. However, it was a dangerous amount of power included into a palm not even delivered personally. The Grisla before would need to run, and fast—before tragedy struck.

The dumb idiot as he was now would die before he thought of it. No matter though, Seri had a feeling of it not working out as she feared. Grisla stopped making sense, and her world in Limbo did too, it wouldn’t be so far fetched for her to sit on the sidelines and continue watching, for a time. She prayed she was right.

As if dodging a shoulder bump, he stepped parallel to the palm’s path. Done so quickly Seri almost didn’t see him engage ‘Steps of the Alpha’. Again, who is he? The Grisla before wouldn’t dare use his movement technique for such a trivial step. The palm slapped his hair, stealing strands during its passing, traveling onwards to the dark he came from. A moment after… a rumbling.

A shocked disciple said, “That’s…what…? I don’t….” he looked as if he wanted to blink twice and spin a circle to wake him from the nightmare. There wouldn’t be a chance to, as Grisla stepped forward, and again. Then….

Grisla stopped so close to the disciple’s face they could feel one another’s breath. One of them: so brief and still, that a physician would think the patient’s on death’s doorstep. The other: his breath itself was afraid; deciding to run for greener pastures.

His mouth parted. “I’ll take what’s mine now.”

A corpse was left to rot alone in a hallway. Before natural change takes it, the body looked like it was trapped in an eternal torment. His clothes were mangled; belt and pouches gone. He may’ve had the worst few minutes of his life, or seconds….

Death will bring him peace. His murderer though, was still on the prowl….

“Seri,” the White Tiger’s voice was grave. “The situation’s as I feared.”

She, too, understood some of the gravity. Her face was never so sour. “I see.”

The collection in the chamber containing the first of Grisla’s loot had some new additions. But the boy is gone.

The Well of Wonder’s chain of hallways, mazes and dead ends gave way to a simple land. An underground cave: stalagmites stabbing down as though there was a grudge to settle. Abruptly over the smooth land formed by natural change, pockmarked craters contained figures in dire conditions. Some groaned in pain; others were deathly still. An unconscious girl had a leg twisted the other way. A duo: twins they were, also shared their likeness in injury. Their heads face down in a puddle of their own blood.

This tale was carried throughout the area; all of them differed in their agonizing fates, but one thing was in common—they were all robbed equally.

Broken arrow shafts, bent swords, dented shields, and shredded talismans led a trail to the castle ahead—with yells and rumbles blasting out. The castle’s moat had its own litter of floaters; their fluids staining the water crimson. At the castle’s courtyard Grisla’s shirt was in tatters, he long ago abandoned his footwear and his feet were now coated in layers of filth too dug in to leave with a dip in water, his fingernails shared some of the same. Yet the fire—or lack thereof—the cold ambition driving him, hadn’t lessened a bit. His mirthless smile was the first and last thing the disciples outside saw.

Two disciples lay at his feet: out of commission. He had yet to free them of their possessions but whenever his eye glazed over them; the coldness within was temporarily banished for a ravenous hunger. Not yet, as four disciples bore weapons at him.

“Miwa,” the female disciple said. “May your ancestors curse you!”

A little over the way behind her, two others stood unfettered but at a loss of their gear crowding their belts; and one of them, a man had his holster devoid of its weapon. It once was a proud token of his family, but it now lay in a pile near the beast.

“I just see the writing on the wall,” Miwa shrugged. Her companion had a sympathetic look for those who had the will to resist.

“Shut your mouth, coward. No Jade Fate disciple worth a damn would cower before the enemy without even trying!” Another disciple said.

“You’re operating under the delusion that with resistance… there’s a chance against this monster,” the man said, sighing, “he’s obviously a depraved individual preying on the weak; not that I care, for that is the way of life as a cultivator. I remember him, a little. Elder Brother Ji Nan’s guest?”

“Think so,” Miwa said. “I recall him going with Elder Brother on a different path to help guide him. But I do not see our fellow disciple here. What’s your plan, then?” She asked the group.

“No matter how powerful he is… he’s–he’s still just a fifth cycle! We’ll hold him off until Elder Brother gets here. I’d suggest for you to run before we tell the story about your cowardice.” The disciple who spoke looked as if he had half a mind to turn his weapon on to them.

“No mere fifth cycle has the reserves to plow through the group outside alone, unaided; without supplemental pills, too. I feared that this man may’ve been hiding his cultivation up to this point. A genuine expert that has deceived the sect and made it inside the Well of Wonders, ah, such a tragedy.”

He shook his head. “He may spare you,” he glanced at Grisla. “If you give him what he wants.”

The wild beast ahead of them looked past the group, and at the man who spoke. Instantly, the man’s breath caught in his throat. He stepped back, worried that what he said offended this man. “Ah, Honored Elder, please—”

Grisla blinked. “Elder…?” He laughed, confusing everyone. He then held out a hand, gaze sweeping over the group. “Last…warning. Give it, or I take it.”

Everyone shivered. The very same words they’d heard the first time he approached. The majority of the Jade Fate Sect’s younger generation was here, and he had dealt with them outside as if it was an attack of kittens. Bruised, battered, and cut he was… but it wasn’t a hitch to his assault. The people here were the few at the back of the party; and so, they had a spectator’s watch as their fellow disciples were crushed underfoot by a man they sensed as a fifth cycle under Solidification. How the heavens lie!

“The odor’s so strong I can take hints of it even in here.” Azure Dragon spat in disgust.

Seri smelled it too. A stench unlike any other. It wasn’t in any way like the disgusting whiff of rot and other unmentionables. In reality, it was completely invisible to mortal senses; and the children below were far from the day they would be able to detect it. If ever. It made her skin crawl and feel as if she was being violated. Her anxiety for Grisla was now through the roof—when he started his crusade it took the tiger holding her down to prevent her from popping in.

White Tiger nodded. “Aye. Haven’t smelled it in such a long time. Never would’ve thought the child capable….”

The Four’s faces were conflicted; some even wheeled back from the portal’s image a bit. Seri spoke while watching the scene, “What is it?”

In a frank tone, White Tiger said: “What you’re detecting is the essence of man’s vulgarity. Unspeakable instinct that drives them to do what they wish and do what they must. In a nutshell, it is called: Sin.”

Seri’s eyes widened. “But that’s—!”

“Yes, the most important ingredient of a demonic cultivator. He has not fallen…” he said, eyes narrowing, “yet.”

Black Tortoise sighed. “It’s a shame, really. Even to get to this point, wouldn’t you say?”

White Tiger nodded. But Seri’s twisting heart wouldn’t let this go. “What do you mean! It’s–It’s Grisla! The idiot wouldn’t fall to depravity so easily! I mean, just before, you saw him! Too much of a bleeding heart to kill a fly unless provoked.”

“That’s true. But it’s also not.”

“The man you see before you is Grisla Orlith. There’s no mistaking it. However, what we can see is a shade of him. ‘Seven Gates of Hell’ the tome was called?” At Seri’s nod, White Tiger continued, “He named himself ‘Avarice’ if I didn’t mishear.”

Vermillion Bird groaned. “Seven Sins… Seven Gates.”

Limbo was unnaturally silent; more enough to make Seri discomfited.

Grisla’s fist made a disciple into a shrimp in one blow: downed before he had a chance. He then lazily leaned away from the flying swords controlled by a girl in the middle of the group, whose hands waved as if she were trying to call lightning from heaven. She made them into a tight formation; sending them out to cover all possible angles of escape. Seeing this, with a disdainful huff, the boy then split—not a run, not a dash—but split into multiple Grisla’s, all running in different directions. The stir in Limbo wasn’t an understatement.

Seri reeled. Afterimages?! The effect of ‘Steps of the Alpha: Godspeed’ enables afterimages to work. But he doesn’t have the Juva necessary for it, so he was always using the second stage at a half-baked effort. Its speed was more than enough to overwhelm Ji Nan however he was only infantilizing its potential. But still…! How?!

Miwa’s eyes constricted. “What?!” She exchanged glances with the man who also sat out with her, once again thanking their rationale for taking the correct decision. The five Grisla’s sent the sword controller in a bout of confusion. Unable to know which was the real target, the swords could only split in half and follow two of the afterimages—the limit of her concentration. They vanished just as quickly as she decided; leaving their controller open for a counterattack which she so generously offered.

Grisla’s ghostlike form stepped near her. “I like. Because I like, not much pain.” Before the disciple had a chance to answer he sent her to sleep.

White Tiger’s grave voice spoke, “In exchange for shattering one’s ego and allowing the pieces to run amok… he allows sin to overtake him, allowing the body to surpass its limits and multiply its output of Juva. Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Wrath, and Pride. Mortals: humans especially, are always battling their primitive self. Normally, these things are always under control and the reins are tighter the longer one walks on the Path.”

“But….” Seri said. “Grisla wouldn’t do such things. He’s putting himself in danger for nothing. It can’t be him.”

“You’re free to believe as you want. However, I will tell you that it is Grisla, and it is not. Avarice is one fragment of the boy named Grisla Orlith, as it was for the deceased Ji Nan. The seven I mentioned were all competing for dominance over the self, until they fused into one personality—the boy we know. What you’re seeing is the boy’s unfiltered desire: the desire of one’s belongings; namely, cultivation materials. The manifestation of one’s greed takes different forms and desires different things. I’ve once seen a man go insane in his quest for jewelry. But the boy hasn’t given a look at any of it. It speaks from his soul’s hidden desires. Whatever reason he has to desire them so much, it is very personal.”

“If there’s seven, then that means… there’s six other Grisla’s? Fragments of him?”

“Six other Grisla’s who represent a part of him that’s kept hidden, or under control. It’s clear what we’re seeing now is from that cursed book of his. He may’ve tried to test whatever’s written inside and this is the result. A tragedy.”

She turned away just as Grisla was in the midst breaking a disciple’s spine. “We have to help him! We must!”

Azure Dragon’s massive head came down. “I am sorry, little one. But we are as powerless as you. This phenomenon cannot be shaken with our intervention—without accidently killing him. The amount of taint possessing him takes a coordinated effort to remove, and if he stays as he is…”

“The boy’s ego will be a long-forgotten dream. His sin, his greed will overpower the rest and become dominant. To be reborn as a new person, in a sense.”

“You–you are all useless!”

A thunderclap struck the Cardinal Four, rendering them speechless. “Doddering old creatures who’ve done nothing for him but whine, complain and then whine and complain when he can’t come up to your unrealistic standards! Help him! Do something!” She shouted.

White Tiger couldn’t meet Seri’s stare. “…If this book isn’t poppycock, then there’s surely a method to take back control. I fear that the true battle lies not from what we’re seeing, but inside the boy….”

At a somewhere not Limbo: his sea of consciousness, Grisla Orlith slept. Weeping as he did.