The guard's eyes remained fixed on Raze, his hand resting casually on his sword hilt. The threat was clear without words.

Raze's mind calculated rapidly, weighing options and consequences and risks. Fighting was possible, his team could handle one guard, maybe two, but that would draw attention, more guards, an escalation they couldn't afford. Not in the capital, not when they were still building strength.

Running was pointless since they knew where he lived, where his team was. Running just delayed the inevitable while making them look guilty.

Which left cooperation, the smart choice, the safe choice, even if it tasted like ash.

"I'll come voluntarily." Raze stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him. "No need for trouble."

"Smart choice." The guard gestured down the stairs. "After you."

Raze glanced back once, saw Mariabel's face through the crack, concern and anger mixing in her expression. He shook his head slightly. Stay. Don't follow. Don't make this worse.

They descended through the common room where eyes tracked their passage, curious and wary. The capital taught people to mind their business, to not ask questions when guards appeared.

Outside, two more guards waited, forming a triangle around Raze. Not hostile exactly, just controlling, making sure he didn't run or try anything stupid.

They walked through evening streets as the city transitioned between day and night, legitimate business closing while illegitimate business opened. The capital's true nature emerging from shadows.

The Lord Regent's manor dominated the central district. Massive and ostentatious, three stories of marble and gold with guards at every entrance, walls that screamed wealth and power.

They approached the main gate where guards nodded and waved them through. Expected. This wasn't the first time someone had been brought for the dungeon tax.

The manor's grounds were extensive with gardens maintained by cultivation techniques and fountains flowing with water that glowed faintly blue. Enchanted. Everything designed to display wealth.

They entered through carved double doors and the interior was worse than the exterior.

Raze's stomach turned immediately.

The entrance hall was chaos, organized chaos but chaos nonetheless. People everywhere, men and women, some barely clothed and some completely naked, moving between rooms with glazed expressions. Drugged. Drunk. Lost.

The smell hit next, perfume trying to cover sweat and incense trying to mask something chemical. Sharp. Wrong. Drugs. Multiple varieties by the scent profile.

Servants moved through the crowd carrying trays loaded with wine and pills and powders, offering them freely while people accepted without question or hesitation.

Raze forced his expression neutral while his Combat Reflex tracked everything, the debauchery and excess and absolute corruption made physical.

This wasn't a lord's manor. This was a brothel, a drug den, a monument to every vice the capital could offer.

They moved deeper through hallways lined with doors, and behind those doors came sounds of moaning and crying and laughter that sounded broken. Raze didn't look, didn't want to see.

Finally they reached the throne room and the doors opened.

Whoosh.

The space was large and circular with marble floors and gold trim, a throne at the far end. And on that throne sat Lord Regent Venn.

He was exactly what Raze expected from the corruption outside. Fat, grotesquely fat, his body spilling over the throne's edges with rolls of flesh barely contained by silk robes. His face was flushed and red, sweating despite the cool air.

But worse than the appearance was the scene around him.

Two women flanked the throne, completely naked with their bodies displayed without shame or modesty. They leaned against Venn with hands moving across his bulk, mechanical and trained, empty eyes suggesting they weren't there by choice.

On the floor near the throne lay more people in various states of undress, a pile of discarded clothing and empty bottles and plates with white powder residue. Pills scattered like confetti. The aftermath of excess that never truly ended.

Venn's eyes were glazed with pupils dilated, high on something, multiple somethings probably. But awareness remained beneath the haze, intelligence lurking beneath the corruption. Dangerous intelligence.

The guard pushed Raze forward. "The dungeon runner, my lord."

Venn stood with labored effort, his bulk protesting movement. His silk robes fell open slightly, revealing more flesh than Raze wanted to see. The Lord descended from his throne with surprising grace for someone so large, each step deliberate and calculated.

He circled Raze slowly, predatory and evaluating. His eyes tracked up and down with an expression that made Raze's skin crawl.

"So young," Venn said finally, his voice surprisingly smooth. Cultured. At odds with everything else about him. "So very young and pretty."

Raze bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, the pain keeping his expression neutral. Keep calm. Don't react. Don't give him anything to use.

"You cleared a dungeon in my territory," Venn continued, still circling. "A Tier Zero dungeon in the southwest district. Took everything without registering, without paying the proper taxes."

"I wasn't aware of the law," Raze said carefully, keeping his voice steady and respectful. "I'm new to the capital, my lord. Still learning the regulations."

"New." Venn stopped in front of him, uncomfortably close. "Yes, I can see that. Fresh. Unspoiled by capital politics." His hand reached out, touched Raze's shoulder. Squeezed slightly. "Strong too. All that cultivation making the body so very firm."

Raze's jaw clenched but he didn't pull away, didn't react. This was a test, everything was a test with people like Venn. Show weakness and they'd exploit it, show strength and they'd see it as challenge.

"The law is clear," Venn said, his hand sliding from shoulder to arm. "Dungeon clearings require registration beforehand. Sixty percent of all gains go to the Lord Regent. That's me. You owe me quite a bit, young man."

"I understand, my lord." Raze reached carefully into his coat, pulled out a pouch from his Inventory. Heavy with gold. He'd prepared this before leaving, knowing payment might be required. "I brought the appropriate fee. Sixty gold, calculated from my total gains."

Venn's eyes widened slightly at the amount, then narrowed with calculation. "You made one hundred gold from a Tier Zero dungeon? That's exceptional work." His fingers closed around the pouch but didn't take it. Instead his other hand came up, touched Raze's face. Traced his jaw. "Very exceptional. You must be quite talented."

The touch made Raze's stomach heave but he held still, forced a smile that felt like broken glass. "I had help, my lord. A partner. We worked together."

"A partner." Venn's thumb brushed across Raze's lips and Raze felt it then, the unmistakable pressure against his leg. The Lord's arousal, obvious and shameless. "How nice. Teamwork. I appreciate teamwork."

Raze pulled back slightly, just enough to break contact without being obvious. He gestured toward the two women flanking the throne with a forced laugh. "You seem quite occupied already, my lord. I wouldn't want to interrupt."

Smooth. Make it a joke. Give him an out that doesn't require confrontation.

Venn laughed, the sound wet and wheezing. "Occupied! Yes, quite right. Always so busy with duties." He stepped back finally, released the pressure. "But a boy with your looks and talent, well. The capital is full of opportunities for those willing to seize them."

"I'm grateful for the lesson about registration," Raze said quickly, seizing the opening. "I'll make sure to follow proper procedures in the future."

"Will you?" Venn turned the pouch over in his hands, considering. Then surprisingly he held it back out. "Keep it."

"My lord?"

"Consider it a gift. A welcome to the capital." Venn's smile was predatory, calculating. "I like you. That face, that respectful attitude. You're smart enough to know when to bow and when to smile. That's rare."

Raze's instincts screamed warning but he took the pouch back carefully, stored it away. "You're too generous, my lord."

"Good boy." Venn leaned back, satisfied, watching Raze with hunger still burning in his eyes. "You know where to find me. Come visit sometime. I'm sure we could find ways to entertain each other."

The guard led Raze out, back through the debauchery and excess and corruption. He kept his expression neutral until they reached the street, until the manor's doors closed behind him, until the guards left him alone.

Then he stumbled to the nearest alley and vomited.

Splat.

Everything came up, the expensive meal from earlier mixing with bile and disgust. His body rejecting not just food but the entire experience, the touches and implications and threats disguised as generosity.

He wiped his mouth with shaking hands, blood from his bitten lip mixing with stomach acid. The taste was copper and wrong.

He found a public fountain three streets over, washed his face and hands and anywhere Venn had touched. Scrubbed until his skin was red and raw. The water couldn't clean what he felt, the violation of that casual touch, that predatory interest.

But beneath the disgust, his mind was working.

Calculating.

Planning.

He'd wanted to avoid this, wanted to stay under the radar and let Alex handle Lord Venn in the future. The plot had the Chosen confronting the corrupt lord eventually, exposing his crimes and bringing justice. That was supposed to happen months from now, maybe a year.

But now Raze was involved, marked as someone interesting to this monster. Venn wouldn't forget him, wouldn't leave him alone. That hungry look, that possessive interest, it meant danger. Constant danger.

Venn didn't care about gender or age, the rumors said. Anyone attractive enough, anyone vulnerable enough, they were targets. And Raze's A rank Charm made him exactly the type this predator wanted.

Which meant action was necessary, interference was required despite wanting to avoid changing this part of the plot.

He needed to take Venn down before Venn took him.

Expose the corruption, bring it to the crown's attention, force action that couldn't be ignored or suppressed. But carefully, methodically, without making it obvious who'd started the investigation.

The plan formed as he walked, pieces clicking together with his Absolute Genius providing connections and strategies. He'd need evidence, documents proving the drugs and trafficking and systematic abuse. He'd need witnesses willing to testify despite the danger. He'd need a path straight to the crown that bypassed Venn's network of bought officials.

And he'd need his team because this wasn't something he could do alone.

The Copper Rest appeared ahead, familiar and safe. He climbed the stairs with renewed purpose, the disgust settling into cold determination.

Taking down a Lord Regent wasn't small stakes, wasn't simple vigilante justice. This was politics and power and danger that could get them all killed.

But necessary danger because the alternative was worse, and Raze refused to be that monster's prey.

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