It has been three days since the family reunion. Cassia is now in Ajaccio, the major trade hub of the region, with Victor's brothers. Victor, still adapting to the slower pace of transport in this world, could only imagine the journey they undertook. His elders had assured him it was for their safety. Meanwhile, Victor remained in Mariana, the capital of the Roman province of Corsica. These days, he shadowed his uncle constantly, almost as his personal attendant. If nothing else, Victor had come to understand one thing: the Roman Patricius, especially of the Dominatus house, were ruthless. His uncle operated like a machine of pragmatism and schemes. While Victor had expected lessons in military strategy, he instead encountered a masterclass in deception and manipulation.
The first step his uncle took was to remove any potential liabilities from the city. Victor's brothers and Cassia, his mother, were sent away early in the morning. With them gone, his uncle strategically repositioned the city guard, drawing them away from the forum and port. The local marine force, consisting of two biremes, was dispatched on a scouting mission at sea, while the city watch was redirected to other zones of lesser consequence. The stage was set for a controlled conflict.
Mariana itself was dominated by four gangs. The Poseidon's Crabs controlled the port and the smuggling trade. They were wealthy but lacked manpower, relying heavily on their allies, the Venus Host, who controlled the red-light district. On the other side of the conflict were Pluto's Curse, who specialized in extortion, taxing caravans and merchants, and dealing in information with ruthless efficiency. Finally, there was the Wolf's Teeth, a neutral faction running gambling dens and assassination contracts.
Initially, the gangs avoided direct conflict, recognizing that escalating tensions would harm their businesses. But on the second morning, Victor's uncle contacted an informant within the Wolf's Teeth, setting a cascade of events into motion. Victor woke up to the sound of incessant pop-ups flashing before his eyes. His initial grogginess quickly gave way to a wave of unease as the messages scrolled through his vision. A knot tightened in his stomach, and a bitter taste lingered in his mouth. Was this what progress demanded in this world? He clenched his fists, a mix of frustration and guilt coursing through him. Each notification seemed to weigh heavier on his conscience, the toll of unseen lives a constant reminder of the choices he had made—or failed to prevent.
[BING! Two people died because of your actions. Your karma increases.][BING! People lamented the death of their loved ones. Cursed Illumination receives 10 EXP – Total: 30/100.]
- Tsk
Victor muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. "This system must be corrupted too. What kind of system rewards the host for death and suffering?"
Victor felt conflicted. Ruthless as he might be, he only acted when necessary. His initial thought was that a clash between the gangs would provide easier prey on the streets, allowing him to grow stronger. But he hadn't accounted for the death of innocents. News spread quickly: two women from the red-light district were found murdered, their bodies discarded like refuse. The city was enraged. The assassinations were seen as a retaliatory act by Pluto's Curse against the Poseidon's Crabs. Bloodshed seemed inevitable.
By the afternoon of the second day, smoke rose from the forum, and the pop-ups bombarded Victor again, threatening to overwhelm him. His uncle stood by the window of the Dominatus mansion, gazing at the chaos below.
- Brat
his uncle said, his tone cold and calculating.
- What do you think war and strategy are?
Victor hesitated. He was intelligent, well-versed in theory and science from his world, but he was no general. His training had been in espionage and technological theft, not military tactics. After a moment of thought, he gave an answer drawn from an old book from his planet.
- Ah, I think war is the continuation of politics when diplomacy fails, and strategy is the ability to develop plans to accomplish an objective?
His voice betrayed his uncertainty, unsure if his perspective aligned with this world's reality.
His uncle's eyes narrowed, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips.
- That's the answer of a politician, boy, not someone who has seen the consequences of their choices.
He gestured toward the city.
- Pay attention. War and strategy are a dialogue, one rooted in deceit. At this very moment, every action you take speaks for itself. Look at the scenario. What do these thugs think of us? Rulers must maintain dignity and appearances. We can't slaughter indiscriminately without consequences. People have limits. That's why we let the gangs do the dirty work for us. Are they wrong to think so? No. They're absolutely right. But they failed to understand one thing: we only need one of them.
Victor listened intently as his uncle continued, his tone icy and detached.
- So, what did I do? I removed our people from the warzone and let the gangs clash. At first, they were frightened of the consequences, but once blood was spilled and the risk of inaction outweighed the risks of fighting, they acted. Chaos and bloodshed. Innocents die. The people suffer. And then, the common man starts to hate these gangs. Do they pick up arms and fight? No. That's our job.
His uncle raised a war horn to his lips and blew. From the cellar, Victor could see the banners rise, emblazoned with the symbols of the Republic and the House of Dominatus. The soldiers moved toward the forum, where cries of pain and fire filled the air.
Victor watched in silence, the weight of the unfolding massacre pressing down on him. The ruthlessness of his uncle—the true bogeyman—stood in stark contrast to Victor's earlier thoughts of his own cunning. The man beside him was a cold, calculating force, his blue eyes betraying no emotion as he orchestrated carnage.
By nightfall, the massacre was complete. Victor silenced the incessant pop-ups, but the weight of their implications lingered in his mind. He leaned against the wall of the mansion, his gaze distant as if trying to escape the ghosts of the dead. Each notification had been a stark reminder of the blood on his hands, a tally of lives lost for reasons he was still grappling to justify. Guilt churned within him, a bitter concoction of responsibility and helplessness. Was this truly the cost of survival in this ruthless world, or was he simply failing to find another path?
The morning of the third day brought an eerie stillness. Smoke lingered in the air, and the streets were unnervingly quiet. Victor glanced at the city, then at the pop-ups flashing in his vision, guilt heavy in his heart.
[BING! 417 people died because of your actions.]
[BING! People lamented the death of their loved ones. Cursed Illumination receives 2,085 EXP – Total: 2,115/2,160.]
[BING! Cursed Illumination reached Level 14.]