The second floor corridor was narrower than the main floor, a creation no doubt to ensure the second floor rooms could maximize the use of space rather than needing larger hallways.
The walls here bore scratches, weapon marks, boot scuffs, the careless scars of men who had stopped respecting the place they lived in.
The smell of wine was thicker, clinging to the walls like mold.
Sweet.
Rotting.
Overpowering.
This was where the rot had taken root.
A place where a deluded god believed he could entice his followers to attain greater heights through showing them the pinnacle that wine itself could be.
Neme moved low and slow, hugging the wall as voices drifted from behind a closed door to his left.
Laughing.
Slurred words.
A bottle shattered against stone, followed by cheering.
He ignored it.
Those weren't his targets.
Ahead, the corridor bent slightly, opening into a wider space.
At the far end stood a reinforced door—thicker wood, iron bands, polished handle.
The treasury.
Zanis's room would be adjacent.
And as if summoned by thought alone—
There were footsteps, coming closer, measured in their step clearly they were coming from someone sober, not hindered by drink at all.
Neme flattened himself against the wall just as a figure rounded the corner.
Zanis Greyrat.
Broad shoulders.
Thick arms.
Expensive armor worn casually, its polish dulled by neglect rather than battle.
His face was sharp, eyes calculating even at rest.
He was a man who wasn't affected by the draw of Soma's divine wine, no instead he found the gods laughable attempts to entice his familia as the perfect medium from which to control them.
After the first round of wine resulted in an overwhelming failure as the familia members were all driven mad with desire to acquire just another sip of their gods wine.
Since that moment, Soma retreated, while Zanis took over.
If there was a god of the soma familia then it wasn't Soma himself, but rather Zanis, the god of greed.
The only level two left alive in the familia, after Zanis caused the deaths of those within who refused to follow his command, or posed a threat to his position as Captain of the familia.
Zanis stopped his walk halfway down the hallway.
Slowly, his gaze slid across the corridor.
"…Who's there?" he asked, hand drifting toward his sword.
Neme didn't respond, instead he moved.
The dagger flashed toward Zanis's throat, fast and silent—but Zanis wasn't a fool.
Steel rang as he twisted, blade intercepting just in time.
Sparks bit into the stone as the two weapons locked.
Zanis's eyes widened, then narrowed.
"So," he growled, strength flooding into his arms as he shoved Neme back, "we've got a rat."
He kicked forward.
Neme barely twisted aside, the blow grazing his ribs hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs.
Pain flared—but he didn't retreat.
He stepped in, slashing low.
Zanis laughed, parrying with ease, then slammed his shoulder into Neme's chest.
The world lurched.
Neme hit the wall hard, stone cracking beneath the impact.
His vision swam for half a heartbeat—just long enough for Zanis to bring his sword down in a killing arc.
Neme ducked.
Steel screamed as the blade bit into stone where his head had been.
Dust exploded outward.
Neme rolled, came up low, and drove his dagger into Zanis's thigh.
It didn't sink deep.
Zanis snarled, backhanding him across the face.
Bone cracked.
Neme staggered, blood warm in his mouth.
"Level One," Zanis spat, eyes gleaming. "You picked the wrong house."
He pressed the advantage, blade relentless, forcing Neme back step by step.
Each strike carried weight, trained muscle, Falna-enhanced force.
Neme blocked what he could, dodged what he couldn't—and took the rest.
His arms burned.
His breath came sharp and ragged.
But he smiled.
Because Zanis was breathing harder now too.
Because Zanis was slowing.
Level breaking Peak Level 1 wasn't equal to a Peak Level 2, but thankfully Zannis was far from peak Level 2, if anything he was low-mid tier level 2.
But it was close enough to hurt.
Neme ducked under a horizontal slash, slammed his elbow into Zanis's ribs, then drove his knee upward.
Zanis grunted, armor absorbing some of it—but not all.
He retaliated with a punch that caught Neme in the shoulder, spinning him halfway around.
Neme used the momentum.
He let himself fall.
Zanis stepped in to finish it.
That was the mistake.
Neme's dagger flashed upward, slicing across Zanis's forearm.
Blood sprayed.
Zanis cursed, recoiling just enough for Neme to surge forward, burying his shoulder into Zanis's gut and driving him back into the wall.
The corridor shook.
In the next instant Neme thrust a hand into Zanis's throat, choking him, lifting him slightly off the ground with brute force, all while his second hand drove its dagger into the forearm of Zannis pinning his arm to the wall, while also forcing his hand to release the blade.
Their faces were inches apart now.
"You don't know who you're messing with," Zanis snarled. "I can make you rich. Powerful."
Neme's vision darkened at the edges, it was true what they said back from his old life.
Someone truest nature came out when they were on the verge of death itself.
But his grip tightened instead of lessened.
"Please," Zanis said suddenly, voice cracking—not from fear of death, but fear of loss. "Listen. Valis. Hundreds of thousands. Millions. I'll make you my right hand. Second in command. You can do whatever you want. Kill whoever you want."
Spittle hit Neme's face.
"Free reign," Zanis insisted, desperation bleeding through. "This Familia is yours if you want it."
Neme couldn't help but laugh in the face of this disgraced swordsman.
"You already sold your soul, and im not going to bother to take on the burden of the rotting husk of a familia you've created."
Zanis's eyes hardened.
He tried to tighten his grip on the arm holding him aloft.
But Neme moved faster, the dagger piercing his arm was retracted but in the next instant the blade was tossed up.
While his hand moved to his thigh against.
In a flash, the flying blade was caught by Neme's left, and while the newly drawn one was in his right.
Released Zanis's body began to fall to the floor but before his feet could even touch.
Slash Slash.
The pair of blades passed by one another heading in opposite directions.
Both slipping effortlessly through the flesh of the being once known as Zanis.
But knowing the end result, Neme didn't bother to stick around.
As the thump of feet hit the ground, Neme was already a few paces away walking deeper into the Familia mansion.
From behind came a series of thumps.
As the falling body, first landed on its knees before falling entirely to the floor, while the separated head of Zanis himself landed with a wet thud, before rolling across the floor trailing a streak of blood, before coming to a rest against the opposite wall, eyes wide in panic.
Even as he walked on, breathing heavily, Neme didn't pause.
This was the first of many deaths he would cause, and in the moment he chose to harden his heart, his mission not yet over, and there would be time in the future to process what he had just done, and what he was about to do.
Simplyfying things in his mind for now, as behind him was not Zanis a fellow human, but rather the cooling corpse of a man who thought money made him immortal.
Focusing his mind that was on the point of breaking down, Neme wiped the blood of his victim on the cloak he wore before heading deeper, blades still drawn in his hands.
Ahead stood the final door.
Soma's door.
From behind it came no shouting.
No movement.
Just the faint clink of glass and the slow, steady sound of liquid being poured.
Neme rested his hand on the handle.
The countdown in his head ticked closer to zero.
And then—
He opened the door and stepped inside the god's abode.