Elysium's Multiverse-Chapter 360

Elysium's Multiverse-Chapter 360

Chapter 360
Chapter 360
Riven appeared with a
WHUMPH
of displaced air as the portal spit him out. He simply couldn’t believe how many realms he’d been in and out of since arriving in this Chalgathi subquest, land of interdimensional fuckery, but he wasn’t complaining this time. He’d been wanting to see his friend Prince Rantali ever since the man had left halfway through the abyssal descent on the blood-ocean floor, and if he could save the poor sod while also saving the man’s fiance - then Riven would be happy to oblige. He couldn’t help but think that Elysium had put this quest here specifically for him, but why it would do that was beyond his understanding.
Riven still wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth though. He would take this opportunity with a smile.
The night was heavy with magic, the air thrumming faintly with distant string instruments as Riven looked around. Before him, perched atop a jagged cliff, rose a large medieval castle — an ancient monolith of dark stone and pale silver spires, each tipped with glistening crystals that pulsed gently in the broken moonlight. Mist coiled around the base of the cliff, rising in slow, twisting columns that clung to the path leading upward.
The road was alive with movement. Vampires of various standing considering their differing garb made their way along the winding path, but most were cloaked in splendor. Some wore tailored suits of velvet so fine it seemed to drink the light, others glided in dresses stitched with threads of platinum. A few strode proudly in extravagant armor, polished to a mirror sheen and adorned with black iron, while others wrapped themselves in flowing sorcerer's robes trimmed with the sigils of their family bloodlines. Escorts and guards, clad in shadowed armor or robes marked with unholy seals, moved alongside them with disciplined grace.
Floating golden baubles bobbed lazily above the path, shedding a soft, dreamlike aura that traced the procession all the way to the castle's great gates. Along the roadside in fields leading up to the castle, some kind of bloodflower bloomed by the thousands, their brilliant crimson petals glowing softly against the dark soil. Their scent was rich and metallic like freshly spilled blood, and it easily carried on the ocean wind - mingling with the salty smell of the surf far below.
Thralls and mortal cattle of various humanoid species, perhaps two dozen or more, weaved deftly among the guests. Thin silver collars gleamed around their necks, and they bore trays of crystal goblets filled with dark, swirling vintages, along with delicate plates of exotic meats and rare fruits. Some smiled serenely, hollowed out by years of service; others barely concealed the fear lingering behind their glassy eyes. But that was to be expected, and Riven noted that they seemed to be well fed - a good sign according to the stories of what Kathrine had told him during their brief time spent together.
“So this is the Kingdom of Garth, Universe 70…” He was so caught up in the scenery that he almost didn’t notice the awkward stares, the stutter-step that slowed the crowd, and the sound of armored footsteps racing his way.
“HALT!” A vampiric guard dressed in full gold-trimmed plate mail shouted, slamming his halberd into the ground and sending out a pulse of his rather weak aura in Riven’s direction - trying to intimidate Riven no doubt. “You there! What is your name? If you were invited to the prince’s ball, you need to go check in at the front gate to the grounds so we can process your invitation.”
Riven turned his head, wreathed in a hood made of shadows, in the direction of the guard - red eyes flashing. He noted how dull the man’s eyes were, and then noted how dull everyone else’s were too. It was certainly different than the elite regiment sent from the Blood Moon Requiem had been, these vampires were likely generationally impure at best. He also noted a few awestruck gasps as others in the procession of guests caught sight of his eyes, but he heeded them no more than a quick glance in his brief scan of the crowd. Doubtless many of them were trying to identify him after his odd appearance and distinctly pure bloodline, but he was also wearing Gaia’s artifact that obscured most kinds of identification, along with the amulets he’d used in the abyssal descent for the same effect. He didn’t want people falling over themselves to try to kill or befriend him on sight if they had seen his title of Gluttony’s reincarnation; or the MYTHIC tag he had.
His fingers twitched, the tattooed sigils of his demonic crests representing Athela and Fay burned underneath his gluttonous armor of ivory and bloodsilk for just a brief second - and he felt his two demons vanish from the spot they’d been summoned. Their presence faded away in the direction of the castle up the sloped landscape, and he turned with a smile once more to regard the slack-jawed guard as two more soldiers came running to stand beside him.
“I apologize, but I don’t believe I was given a formal invitation. I’m visiting Prince Rantali as a surprise, but he’s a friend of mine.” Riven said calmly, smiling underneath the ivory mask covering his face from the bridge of his nose down. With a thought, the fleshy sound of the armor peeling off his face to reveal his features met his ears, and he took his hood down to better show who he was. Dark sigils of ancient sin glyphs marked in black stood out against his otherwise pale, porcelain features - and he placed his hands behind his back with a stance of authority as he head-nodded towards the castle to his right. “Would it be alright if I went anyways? I’d be more than happy to let you escort me there if you feel like I’m some kind of assassin.”
Riven chuckled at the irony of that statement, considering the quest he was taking through Elysium’s integration right now.
Despite his words, all three of the guards stood looking both surprised and irritated.
“Pureblood, it is an honor to be in your presence.” One of the new guards said, stiffy bowing just enough to be respectful but not enough to show he was subservient. “Unfortunately, even despite your impressive lineage and likely ties to the prince, we must insist that you check in at the front gate. If you truly do not have an invitation then you will be forced to wait until we can confirm that the royals wish you entry, after the gatemaster registers who you claim to be.”
Riven rolled his neck. “Oh come on, can’t we-”
The third guard slammed the butt of his halberd into the ground with a hard stare directed at Riven. “No exceptions. This is for the safety of our highbloods, and we will not tolerate dissent. Even from someone as pure as you.”
Riven frowned. Despite this, he didn’t want to draw any more attention to himself than he already was - and at the very least it showed that the soldiers here were somewhat competent at their jobs. So he nodded a second later, and saw the tension ease out of the three soldiers standing before him. “Fine. Take me to the gate.”
***
An hour later, Riven had grown tired of being stared at by the other people in line around him. The line had been quite long and started half a mile back from where Elysium had teleported him in, and he was thankful his minions were at the very least establishing themselves on the castle grounds while he was held up here doing time-consuming shit at the request of the people running security. It wasn’t as if he could just tell the soldiers ‘hey, your prince is about to be assassinated’ - because he had no idea if the guards were in on it or not. No, better to just let Athela and Fay keep a lookout for now from the shadows; and according to Elysium’s quest he wouldn’t even be in danger of the assassination attempt occurring for a little less than a day from now anyways.
So he likely had time to burn. Still…
“God damn it this fucking sucks.” Riven grumbled, tapping his foot impatiently on the opposite side of the gate he’d started on. “They’re treating me like a walmart-grade peasant!”
The line to the castle stretched before Riven like a living thing, flowing with the elegance of many vampires that were in some cases - centuries old. The air was thick with the hum of low conversations, the clinking of delicate crystal goblets, and the quiet, whispered promises of intrigue.
“Ah yes, I finally got to sample and orc the other day!” A lady of the courts laughed far ahead of him as she drunkenly swayed against her husband. “When I went out with my sister! It was a glorious evening, and I’m hoping they have some other fine delicacies here we don’t often see in the heartlands!”
Bleh. Orc didn’t taste all that great in Riven’s opinion. He’d killed a handful of them and devoured them back in the descent when he’d forcefully unlocked an aspect of his vampiric bloodline, he personally preferred softer variants like humans from all the victims he’d sampled over the last year. Elf was pretty good too, though he was still wanting to have a full meal of drow meat sometime soon. Unfortunately Kara was off limits because he liked her and she was turning out to be someone he got along with, and she’d also become a vampire-demon hybrid to boot - so he wasn’t sure if she would even taste good anymore if he wanted to sample her meat. She wasn’t mortal, so the cravings he’d had to eat her had mostly faded away - which was good. Goblin? Downright disgusting. Dwarf was surprisingly alright as well, but they were a bit tough to chew on.
He really needed to invest more time in collecting specimens for his blood garden, the one Athela and Fay had started for him.
Damn it. He should have kept Zafima alive. Maybe his thralls Lizard, Fish and Brute would donate a limb or two if he helped them grow the limbs back… that may work.
Riven began to literally salivate at the thought of the rare meat types he’d have whenever he got back from this job, and he had to wipe at his lips as he moved forward more than once.
Unfortunately the moving forward began to get slower and slower as the gatekeeper at the front began to yawn, and Riven could only grit his teeth and tap his foot faster with impatience. The stares didn’t help either, which were constant - even if they usually looked away when he caught the other vampires openly gawking. He was an anomaly here — pureblooded, undeniably more powerful and with higher affinities to the source of their origin than their bloodlines were. Their power and purity had thinned over generations, and despite his relatively low level of intel on vampire society - it was blatantly obvious whenever it was brought up that his pureblood lineage gave him a level of status that was coveted by many others of his species. He really didn’t think about it much, but being here in the middle of other vampires made the gawking, desire, and jealousy from different people for their individual reasons quite obvious.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. sightings.
“Oh for fuck’s sake can’t this guy hurry up!?” Riven hissed almost in a whisper, getting a laugh from the middle-aged vampire man in front and a feminine giggle coming from right behind him. It was apparent that at least two of the other people in this line agreed with his muttered outburst.
The gatekeeper at the front, a sour-faced old guy with spectacles who looked as though he’d rather be anywhere else, was painstakingly inspecting each invitation, turning the parchment over as though searching for a flaw that might allow him to turn someone away. His movements were slow and deliberate, every guest’s invitation scrutinized in the same bored manner. The line again moved at a crawl, and Riven stood there, arms loosely crossed, trying not to show his impatience and failing miserably.
As Riven shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his gaze wandered briefly to the figures around him - his mind in a fog. It was then that Riven’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a voice — sharp, bright, and dripping with curiosity.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" The voice was soft but familiar - matching the giggling laugh he’d heard earlier. A moment later, a young woman stepped confidently closer to come around - stopping at his front to face him fully. She was a striking figure: her red hair was gathered into a neat ponytail, the strands catching the faint light of the floating golden baubles that drifted lazily above the path. There was something fiery about her — not just her hair, but the way she carried herself, like a spark waiting to turn into a blaze. She wore a dress of deep, midnight blue, the fabric clinging to her form and shimmering with an almost ethereal glow. Tiny crystals, like stars, speckled the fabric, catching the light with every movement, so it seemed as though her gown was woven from the night sky itself. She couldn’t have been older than 19 or 20, her youthful features sharp yet soft, with freckled cheeks and eyes that gleamed - albeit they were a dull red when compared to his own
“Not interested.” Riven stated flatly, moving a few steps further and causing the middle-aged man ahead of him to let out another barking laugh at his complete display of disinterest. He laughed harder when he glanced back and saw Riven make a shooing motion towards the eager young woman.
Despite this, the redhead stepped back to his front and wickedly grinned - unperturbed by her quick rejection. She was bold, obviously unafraid to approach him directly, and her gaze was unwavering. “Not from around here, are you?”
Her voice was warm, teasing. “I don’t recognize you... and there’s no way I would forget someone as handsome as you are. So who’s your highblood?”
The question was casual, but it carried with it an unmistakable demand for an answer.
What the fuck was a highblood? That was the second time he’d heard that term used since getting here. Did it mean noble family? That was all he could assume based on context clues. He hadn’t ever heard Kathrine use the phrase though, so perhaps it was distinct to this region of the multiverse, rather than the multiverse at large?
Who knew. Not Riven, he didn’t know.
So Riven’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes briefly flicking toward the gatekeeper, who was still meticulously studying each invitation, utterly indifferent to the world around him. He sighed softly, not wanting to engage with this young woman, but the pressure of her gaze grew unbearable. Still, he refused to meet her eyes, instead keeping his attention firmly on the task ahead. "I said that I’m not interested.”
The young woman, however, was undeterred. She took a step closer, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Oh, come now,” she said, her tone taking on a playful edge. “Surely someone as... interesting as you must come from a noble house, no? You don’t look like the others. Tell me, where are you from? How did you get here? Your journey must have been... fascinating.”
She leaned in slightly, as if the mere act of proximity would somehow coax the answers out of him.
“Look lady.” Riven said, holding out a hand and splaying his five fingers. He paused to consider them: Genua, Athela, Fay, Kara, and Kathrine - and then nodded to himself before continuing. “I’ve already got five babymamas. I don’t need another. They’re all way too needy as it is and I wouldn’t hear the end of it if I added a sixth.”
For the first time since her approach, the young woman looked confused. “Baby… mamas?”
“That’s right. Babymamas. I’ve got enough, now scram.”
Riven’s gaze flicked briefly to the side, where the other women of various ages in line were watching. Their eyes were cold when focused on the redhead who’d approached him, but there was something else in their gaze — something calculating when they met his eyes. As they observed the exchange, they adjusted their posture, puffing their chests out, pulling down their cleavage, subtly tilting their heads to draw attention to their figures. They all seemed to subtly compete for Riven’s attention, each trying to outdo the other in a game as old as time itself.
The young woman in front of him let out a sigh, then clasped her dainty hands behind her in a stretch - before extending one of her hands his way with a more genuine smile. “Fine. Kind of expected with a bloodline like yours but I can say I tried. At least let me introduce myself though, my name is Saemae Fangrider of House Fangrider.”
She smiled, but there was a sharpness to it, a predatory gleam in her eye. “Saemae,” she repeated, letting her name hang in the air like a piece of bait. “Of House Fangrider. Surely you’ve heard of us? A family of distinction.” Her voice dipped lower, as though offering him an invitation he couldn’t refuse. “I’m sure someone of your... lineage would be more than welcome at our table, don’t you think?”
The women around them seemed to lean in while trying not to make it obvious, as if waiting for Riven to respond, though he could sense the growing tension in the air. They obviously hated Saemae’s persistence — the way she had monopolized his attention. But none of them dared to speak, only watching, sizing him up with subtle glances and attempts to catch his eye.
There were more than a few hateful glares of other nearby men as this happened.
As if this was HIS fault.
Riven turned slightly, still ignoring Saemae as she continued her advances. He could feel the gazes of the other women — their glares were sharp, but their actions spoke louder. One woman adjusted her dress, pulling it tighter around her waist, while another subtly lowered her neckline, giving a calculated, lingering look. But their efforts were met with indifference. Saemae’s boldness, however, remained an annoyance that Riven had no intention of indulging further. And it continued like that for another ten minutes before he made it to the gate.
Finally approaching the iron gate, the old gatekeeper spoke; gravelly and uninterested from where he sat at a desk next to twelve entrance guards. “Invitation?” he muttered, barely glancing up as he waited with extended palm to take Riven’s invitation in hand.
Riven blinked, chuckled to himself, and pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled the word ‘invitation’ onto the ripped parchment. Handing it over to the gatekeeper, he watched and waited.
The old man’s examination of the document was slow as he brought the paper down to eye-level, his work deliberate, as if he were finding a way to delay the inevitable. Eventually he raised an eyebrow, and very slowly asked: “Is this a joke?”
Riven beamed, pointer finger extended upwards. “Yes!”
The old man blinked, not amused. “Where is your actual invitation?”
“Well I don’t have one. I’m coming to visit from out of town and thought I’d drop by to visit my old friend Prince Rantali, since I heard he was having a party.”
Squinting suspiciously up at Riven as the winding line behind Rivne continued to grow into the distance, the old man adjusted his glasses and pushed them up his crooked nose to get a better look at Riven. He hummed under his breath and steepled his fingers. “Out of town you say? I haven’t seen a true pureblood in quite some time, so I’d be inclined to believe you. Still, we cannot just let you in without verification even if you are a true friend of the crown.”
The old man let out a long and strained sigh as if the effort of talking was just too much to bear. “If you weren’t pureblooded I’d have you thrown out this instant, especially with that grotesque set of armor you have on; but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.”
He pulled out a quill, dipped it into an ink bottle on the desk, and asked: “What is your name, country of origin, any held titles, and relationship to the prince? I will have to this before letting you in, and will get back to you after I send a runner to request permission for your entrance.”
Riven nodded in understanding, hands clasped behind his back. “Seems fair. My name is Riven Thane.”
The old man scribbled the name down, pushed the glasses up his nose again when they slipped, and asked: “Country of origin?”
“The Blood Moon Requiem.”
The old man’s quill began to scratch into the parchment, but stopped just as abruptly. His eyebrows slowly rose and he lifted his eyes to search Riven’s face for any sign of a lie.
He found no signs of it. Clicking his tongue, the old man slowly went back to etching the name ‘Blood Moon Requiem’ into the parchment as the area around them became dead silent. “Held titles, if any?”
“Prince, 36th in line for the throne.”
The old man blinked twice as the guards nervously exchanged looks with one another, and Riven could literally hear that irritating girl’s heartbeat behind him pick up and flutter. She wasn’t the only one to let out a sharp gasp either, and he internally rolled his eyes while trying to think of an escape plan or excuse to not talk when they inevitably approached him tonight.
“Riven Thane, Blood Moon Requiem, 36th Prince.” The man muttered under his breath while scribbling it down. “Relationship to our Prince Rantali of Garth?”
Riven grinned and shoved his hands into the pockets of his shadowy cloak. “I met him in the Abyssal Descent recently. Helped him get a Black Phoenix Stone for his soon to be wife.”
The old man took in a long breath, set his quill down, and folded his hands to look up at Riven with a healthy dose of skepticism; mixed with concerned awe. “You’re the one Prince Rantali talked about in his speech?”
“What speech?”
“Eh… Nevermind. How did you arrive on our world?”
Riven scratched the back of his neck. “I teleported.”
“Teleported?”
“Yup! Through a portal.”
The old man blankly stared back. “You teleported… across the chasms between universes?”
Riven gave a big thumbs up. “Yes! Just now, actually.”
The old man continued to stare with raised eyebrows. “You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes!”
The old man sighed and scratched down the words: Abyssal Descent, onto the paper. He rolled the parchment up and handed it to a very nervous looking guard standing nearest the right side of the gate, and stopped the runner from leaving with a hand on the man’s wrist while staring Riven down intensely.
“If you’re lying, this could be your life for impersonating someone important to him.” The old man said sternly, watching Riven’s expression for signs of deceit. “Are you sure you want me to send this man to the castle to request your entrance? It’s your last chance to back out in case you’re lying. I won’t have your corpse on my conscience if you do this and you’re lying now that I’ve warned you.”
Riven laughed, his shoulders rocking. “Just go get Prince Narzkal Rantali for me if you would, or as his parents call him: Narzy. In fact, tell Narzy there that I specifically said that if he doesn’t get down here soon - I’m going to tell the entire congregation of people here about how he tried to get me to fuck an ogre on his behalf back in the descent. He has fifteen minutes to arrive here before I start spilling the beans.”
Riven snapped a vicious and very amused grin at the startled guard holding the rolled up parchment. “Better get running, the clock is ticking!”

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Chapter 360