Pandora Unchained - a Cultivation Progression Fantasy

The difficult situation Sorin found himself in shortly after leaving Michael's residence made it clear that he'd fallen into a trap. Moreover, it was a multi-layered trap. Charles's poison was the initiator, while Melinoë's hidden influence put on the finishing touches.

Somehow, threads of Madness had snuck aboard his body and were rapidly accumulating within him, fanning his emotions and wearing at his rationality.

How did she do? thought Sorin as he recalled their lengthy card game. He'd chased away any threads of Madness he'd detected, but somehow, he'd missed a large payload. It was a Trojan horse, he realized. Her madness snuck aboard Charles's poison. And the reason I didn't notice was because of a combination of distortion and misfortune!

The situation was quickly devolving, with the man shouting expletives and the woman screaming assault. A large crowd was gathering, and their words were getting increasingly inflammatory.

Sorin was doing his best to contain his temper, but unfortunately, Fenrig had primed his Violence. Whether this had been done knowingly or unknowingly had yet to be determined.

I need to calm down. Calm down. CALM DOWN.

He restrained himself from melting the whole crowd into a puddle but was unable to stop himself from sending over a whisp of poison. It was undetectable to most and would result in the man's death a few days later. Or was it a few seconds? I can't quite tell. My ability to calculate is muddled.

The situation was quickly spiraling out of control. Therefore, it came as a great relief when Sorin heard a familiar voice: "I'm sorry, but I think we have a bit of a misunderstanding here." The speaker stepped in front of Sorin just as the whisp of poison was being sent out and absorbed the potentially lethal attack in the man's stead.

"Gareth," said Sorin, breathing heavily. "Trap. Melinoë."

Gareth shook his head. "My friend had a little too much to drink. I hope you can forgive him and accept this apology on his behalf." He passed the man and the woman a bag of holding apiece.

"You are clearly people of influence," said the woman venomously. "Do you think you can just do what you please and keep everyone quiet using your dirty money?"

"You misunderstand," said Gareth, shaking his head. "This isn't money for silence. It's just to temporarily diffuse the situation and avoid an altercation. Feel free to pursue this matter at a later date if you wish to do so."

The man nodded and pulled the woman closer to him. The situation was extremely embarrassing for her, and remaining here wouldn't do her any good. "Fine. We'll continue this later when people aren't gawking."

"It's all I ask," said Gareth, quickly pulling Sorin away.

Still muddled and wrestling with his inner corruption, Sorin allowed Gareth to lead the way. Leaving the crowd and its violent emotions allowed him to calm down and bring Violence under preliminary control."

"What many people don't realize is that even when controlled, Madness builds up," said Gareth as he walked. "It continuously warps one psyche, making one increasingly vulnerable to irrational outbreaks. You lost your temper as a result of Violence, but it was ultimately Madness that wore down your walls and enabled you to send out that wisp of poison."

"Melinoë," whispered Sorin. "She knows."

Gareth shook his head. "Unlikely. There are too many reasons that can explain your behavior. Moreover, you have the fox head medallion and your S-Tier Ring of Mind Ward helping you. Neither means of protection is something easily circumvented."

When Sorin remembered the Ring of Mind Ward, he wondered whether it even worked. Upon reviewing their altercation, however, he recalled it actively working to dispel harmful effects and soothe his mounting emotions. This had allowed him to not immediately unleash a cloud of poison and melt everyone within a three hundred-foot radius.

"That could have gone a lot worse," said Sorin.

"Indeed, it could have," said Gareth. "Now, where to? Home?"

"Yes," answered Sorin. "Though logic would dictate that I return to the Ancestral Manor for an inspection, there are far too many aggravating fellows there." Then he sighed. "I'm not looking forward to the fallout from this."

Gareth nodded. "I imagine they'll use this staged interaction as ammunition in the inquiry. Fortunately, it's possible to counter this kind of damage; you going crazy and killing off a thousand people, on the other hand, not so much." Then he sighed. "It was a near catastrophe like this that decided for us. I'm speaking about my mother, in case that wasn't clear."

Sorin had heard of Gareth's situation but had never inquired about the details. "Was it Madness?"

"A combination of Madness and Violence due to participating in one too many demon tides," answered Gareth. "She dealt with the symptoms for ten years, but gradually, Madness took its toll. At first, it was all positive, like upgrades to skills and enhancement of her physique. She was luckier than most, and that made her increasingly powerful—so powerful that she became a risk to the entire outpost.

"Eventually, there came a day when she told my father without batting an eye that she'd had enough with the place. She was tired of watching over pitiful sheep that didn't even know what they were fighting, and she thought they were all better off dead.

"That night, my father activated a spell trap he'd quietly commissioned. I was there, watching. I had to be there, he said, to see her final moments and see what I could learn from it.

"Madness was inevitable, he told me. No one could be saved once corrupted. Time could be bought, and mental bandages could be applied, but eventually, purification through fire was the only way to prevent Demonification.

"They burned her alive, Sorin. Burned her with white fire as she cursed us for our foolishness. Cursed us for being puppets of Lord Hope and not seeing the glory of the Seven Evils.

"And then she was gone. Forever lost to us. I understood then that I'd lost my mother many years ago. She had secretly become someone else entirely."

Sorin remained silent for a minute before speaking. "I'm sorry for your traumatic loss. It's difficult losing your parents, and I can relate to that on many levels."

"It made me who I am," said Gareth, shaking his head. "And the experience gave me the tools I needed to see this matter through. In a way, I'm thankful for what my father did. Without experiencing it personally, I never would have believed the things he taught me."

"I share this story to remind you of a single thing, Sorin: Corruption is inevitable. You'll eventually reach a point where you're better off dead. And as your Keeper, it's up to me to decide what the line is and when you cross it. I just want you to know that when the time comes, it's nothing personal. It's just my job to protect as many people as possible."

"Noted," said Sorin. "And thanks again. That could have gone much worse. I saw you taking out your communication device earlier. I take it the team knows about what happened?"

"They do, and Daphne and Lawrence asked for the details," answered Gareth. "They hinted at running interference, but I'm unsure how that will play out."

Before long, they safely arrived at Sorin's residence. Gareth insisted on remaining for the night, and Sorin didn't refuse him.

As for Lorimer, who'd vanished during the altercation, he returned a few hours later, mouth and claws bloodied. When Sorin asked what he'd been doing, he simply answered that he'd been taking out the trash and that there was no cause for concern.

That night, Sorin hardly slept a wink. With his Violence fully provoked, it was no easy task to coax it into submission again. Only the promise of letting loose in the catacombs kept it temporarily satisfied, but even then, it had to be closely watched.

The next morning, Percival welcomed Sorin and Gareth with a cup of coffee and a hearty breakfast. Like Sorin, the archer hadn't slept at all and was currently reading a newspaper.

"Breaking News," Sorin read from the front page, "The Underwear Thief Strikes Again. No less than 20 noble houses were infiltrated, all with underwear stolen. When questioned for additional details, the victims in question refused to answer any questions. Whoever did this, they clearly have leverage."

"The second page is much less endearing to you," said Gareth. "But many people don't get to the second page, so it's a happy coincidence that the Underwear Thief went on a spree last night."

"There's also an article by famous author Daphne Philips on the third page, so a lot of people will skip to that. In the article, she talks about victimization and politics and their parallels with schoolyard bullying. She also goes on to describe how these themes will play a central role in her upcoming book, A Tear Not Shed."

"Huh," said Sorin, taking a sip from his coffee. "I've got to say, I'm impressed with their response time. The papers must have been scrambling to change out those pages last night."

"It's a competitive business, and everyone wants to know the hottest news," said Gareth. "Toast?"

"Please," said Sorin. "And Gareth? Thank you."

"Any time."

The morning passed uneventfully, and by mid-afternoon, Sorin received an update from Elder Samson. The Elder informed him that a deal had been negotiated, and all charges had been dropped. But that did not mean it wouldn't come up during the inquiry.

Moreover, Sorin's reputation was in shambles despite the clan's best efforts to rein in the situation. Suffice it to say that Melinoë and Charles had accomplished their goal.

They were the true winners of last night's game.