The Regressor’s Younger Brother’s Insanity

On the highest floor of the coliseum, a Nobleman sat comfortably on a lavish sofa, a glass of wine in hand. Behind him stood his personal guard, silent and alert.

Across from him sat the leader of this cultist branch. Together, they watched the blood-soaked game unfold below, the screams echoing faintly in the air.

The middle-aged noble smirked, speaking with amused disdain, "Fools speak of love. But when death knocks, even a mother would sell her child for a single breath more."

"Exactly," the cultist leader replied, eyes fixed on the chaos below. "I stopped expecting loyalty the day my own brother sold me for a loaf of bread. Since then, I only deal in leverage."

"Still, you're as cunning as ever. Last month when I visited, you showed me a couple. you told her you'd save her husband if she sacrificed herself. But the moment she died, you turned to the husband and said she could've lived… if only he died in her place. In the end both died. Hilarious." The noble chuckled.

The cultist leader burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the opulent chamber. Then, wearing an amused expression, he said

"Oh, that's not even the best part. They had a child. Before all that, I went to the husband first and told him he could walk free if he abandoned his wife and child. He agreed without hesitation. What he didn't know was that his wife was listening nearby, on my orders. Then I approached her and said she could save the child. Heartbroken by her husband's betrayal, she offered herself without question."

The noble's grin widened. "That's brutal. So… where's the child now?"

The cultist raised his glass, eyes cold.

"She'll come after this round"

"Oho, I can't wait to see her expression, dying even after her mother sacrificed herself. You could've simply forced her into the game… but instead, you chose to break her spirit first. You're truly cruel, Branch Leader."

"You nobles always say the same thing… as if mercy ever had a place in this game," the cultist leader said, a twisted smile curling on his lips.

"...."

"Oh? It seems the girl has entered," The cultist leader added, a hint of excitement in his voice.

A small figure was dragged into the arena, barely ten years old. A thick iron chain was fastened around her neck. Her body was a canvas of cruelty, bruised and bloodied from unspeakable torture.

Even the nobleman, who had laughed moments earlier, turned his face away in disgust.

And then, without warning, a man in cultist robes unsheathed his blade and severed all five ropes holding the girl.

The man caught her in his arms as she fell. He was none other than Aether von Noctvain, wearing a human-skin mask, the entire face peeled from a cultist and magically bound to his own through mana.

Seing this the nobleman's expression hardened. The branch leader's smile vanished as his grip tightening around his wine glass.

* * *

"Demon God."

The little girl's voice trembled. She had only one eye left, and it shimmered with tears, tears of hope.

"Demon God…" she whispered, her heart overwhelmed with joy. Her prayers had finally been answered.

On the other hand the entire arena fell into stunned silence.

'Demon God?'

The cultists were momentarily dumbfounded. Even among their twisted kind, such a title wasn't spoken lightly. Whispers stirred.

Then, the man organizing the game broke the silence.

"Reveal yourself! Are you a spy?!"

But Aether didn't even look at him. He simply raised a hand toward the girl.

"Rest for now little girl."

Swoooosh.

A swirling shadow erupted from his palm, swallowing the girl whole, like she was being embraced. As a result she vanished.

The crowd erupted in shock. Most in the arena were powerless spectators or low-level warriors. What they had just seen… was far beyond them.

Aether had just used Gluttony. It wasn't merely a skill of devouring, its true horror lay in the fact that it could seal a living being within a hidden subspace. A realm that belonged to him alone, However, this ability only worked on those weaker than himself.

Then...Ding'

A dark green window materialized beside him, glowing ominously.

Countless compartments floated inside, each holding a deadly weapon.

he reached in and pulled out a long sword.

The crowd reeled in shock. A weapon pulled from thin air. Unseen magic. Unshakable presence.

Their confusion turned to fear.

Who is this man?

Even the man organizing the game, someone who had witnessed countless rituals and executions, stood frozen. He had never seen magic like that.

Then....chaos.

In the blink of an eye, the gallery erupted into screams.

Slice. Slik. Slash.

Aether moved like a phantom cutting anyone in his sight .

Some cultists raised their swords, but it was too late to defend.

Aether's blade shimmered through the air. With a single, smooth motion, the cultist's weapon shattered on contact. Their head flew clean off. Blood sprayed across the stone walls.

Aether's blade curved like a whisper of death, slicing through flesh and bone as if none of it existed.

The man dropped in two clean halves before he even realized he was dead.

"He's too fast!" someone screamed.

Three more cultists rushed him, attacking from every angle...behind, the side, the front.

But Aether didn't flinch.

He pivoted on his heel, his sword sweeping in a perfect arc.

Slice. Slice. Slice.

All three collapsed, their throats cut with surgical precision.

Panic spread like wildfire.

Some cultists ran. Others stumbled, slipping on blood-soaked stone. The few brave enough to fight only added to the growing pile of corpses. Aether was a storm in human form.

Suddenly, two elite warriors leapt into the arena, landing with a crash that cracked the stone beneath them. Their presence alone shifted the air. They were far stronger than the fodder Aether had cut down moments ago.

Without a word, they lunged at him in perfect sync.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Their movements were sharp, refined. one used a spear imbued with wind mana, the other a heavy glaive crackling with fire.

Aether parried and twisted between their strikes, sparks flying with every collision...Then

Step. Step. Step.

Both warriors jumped back, retreating five steps as if on cue. Their breathing sharpened,

Then they reached into their pockets and pulled out small glass vials filled with a thick, black liquid.

Snap. Drink.

The moment the liquid touched their tongues, their bodies convulsed. Black veins bulged across their skin like corrupted roots, and their eyes turned blood-red.

Aether narrowed his gaze.

Their strength surged, doubling instantly. They attacked again, faster, wilder, heavier.

Clang! Clang! CRASH!

Aether slid backward a few steps, his boots grinding against the bloodstained floor.

Tch...They're stronger now. I need to finish this quickly, he thought.

He brought two fingers to the flat of the blade, slowly sliding them down to the tip.

Dark green mana erupted from his touch, crawling along the weapon like a living flame.

"Aura Blade…"

The branch leader of the cult muttered in disbelief, watching the battle unfold from the VIP chamber on the fourth floor. To think the spy could use aura blade…

An aura blade is a weapon enhanced by the user's energy, making it sharper, stronger, and sometimes able to cut through things normal blades can't.

The nobleman beside him leaned forward, his tone turning cautious. "Branch Leader… what do you plan to do?"

The cultist leader's expression hardened.

"I need to ask for his help." With that, he turned and left the chamber in a hurry, his robe trailing behind him.

The nobleman watched him go, lips curling into a sneer.

"Tch… coward."

Then he turned to his personal guard.

"Forget this mess. Let's raid the storeroom and take the potions."

The guard nodded silently, already preparing for a swift and quiet escape.

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To be continued.....