Pride Ring wasn't quiet anymore.
Not since the tower appeared.
A pillar of white stone and gold stood at the center of the ring impossibly tall, carved with moving scripture and angelic geometry no demon could replicate. It didn't look built.
It looked placed.
A violation.
warning.
And near its peak, a massive luminous clock ticked forward with unnervingly calm patience:
359 Days.
23 Hours.
54 Minutes.
Every demon in Pride Ring heard it in their bones.
Not a sound
a pressure.
Even those who tried to ignore it felt their soul flinch with every:
Tick.
Tick.
The sinners felt it worst.
THE CROWD
Outside one of Ouroboros' Pride Ring safe facilities a converted high-rise once owned by a forgotten noble the streets overflowed.
Sinners pushed against the reinforced perimeter gates, desperate and frantic:
> "Please just let us stay inside!!"
"I can pay money, souls, favors whatever you want!"
"My overlord abandoned us please don't leave us out here!"
They were all sinners from Pride risking random execution just for a chance to reach any organized power before the extermination.
Because the rule was simple:
📌 Only Overlords or those under their direct protection could be protected in Pride Ring during extermination.
And most sinners had neither.
They weren't here for charity.
They were here for shelter. Protection. Survival.
But Ouroboros wouldn't take everyone.
INSIDE THE FACILITY
The surveillance room hummed with layered screens live feeds, crowd scans, behavior heatmaps, identification logs.
Malerion stood at the center, Verosika beside him both silent, both observing.
Dreg wasn't present still in Wrath overseeing security drills.
But the others were:
Quill filtering the crowd using census and background filters
Liz reading emotional patterns with eerie calm
Rafe assessing political advantage
Doona calculating financial impact
Skit and Bit managing automated defenses
No one spoke for a moment not while the screens showed panic outside.
Finally, Liz broke the stillness.
"They'll keep coming," she said softly. "Pride Ring's nobles are shutting their borders. Anyone without allegiance is desperate."
Rafe hummed.
"You can smell the panic in the requests."
Doona didn't look up from her ledger.
"Panic spends more than strategy."
Quill zoomed in on a cluster near the fence.
Verosika scoffed.
"Then they're either stupid or motivated."
Malerion finally spoke quiet, steady:
"No one enters without filtering."
Liz nodded approvingly.
"We'll need categories."
She listed:
Useful ,Valuable, Neutral,Liability ,Threat
Skit swallowed.
"…What about the ones who just want safety?"
Malerion didn't hesitate.
"There is no safety without contribution."
Verosika looked at him not cold, not shocked but acknowledging the weight of those words.
Hell wasn't fair.
Survival never was.
THE BOLD ONE
An alarm chimed.
Camera three refocused.
A single sinner stepped forward not screaming, not pushing not afraid.
Well-dressed.
Carrying a reinforced case.
Posture of someone who once owned something.
Quill narrowed his eyes.
"…Not standard refugee behavior."
Rafe smirked faintly.
"Finally someone with dignity."
The sinner stopped at the front of the gate, looked directly into the surveillance lens and bowed.
Then spoke, voice clear:
> "I request audience with Ouroboros."
Not bargaining ,begging.
Presenting himself.
Verosika raised a brow.
"Well. He's either useful… or insane."
Malerion's expression sharpened.
Then:
"Open the gate."
Bit blinked.
"For real? Just like that?"
Malerion looked at him.
"If he came this far without falling apart… he's worth a conversation."
Liz murmured:
"And the others will be waiting to see what you do with him."
The gate opened slow, intentional like a throat deciding whether to swallow or accept.
The sinner stepped inside.
Head high.
No trembling.
A strategist walking into a den not as prey but as someone hoping to negotiate his place in it.
Rafe whispered:
"And so it begins."
Outside, the celestial clock continued counting:
359 Days.
23 Hours.
38 Minutes.
Hell held its breath.
Ouroboros began choosing who lived.
And who didn't.