Morning in the district didn't feel like morning anywhere else.
The neon lights never dimmed, the sky never brightened, and the air never cooled. But Malerion had learned to feel the rhythm of the Lust Ring anyway the subtle shift in noise when the night crowds died down, replaced by the early movement of workers, smugglers, and sleepless demons drifting through the streets.
He stepped out of his private quarters with an almost automatic motion.
The building felt different now like it was too small, too narrow to contain the new power humming inside his veins but he pushed that aside. Today wasn't about cultivation.
Today was about building.
And Sin Rouge had become something worth building.
The hallway opened into the main floor: a hybrid space that served as bar, operations center, safehouse, storage hub, and unofficial community hall for the nearby slums. The scent of alcohol mixed with oil and glowing rune-dust, a uniquely Sin Rouge aroma.
Dreg was already awake, which meant he had likely never slept.
He didn't have to, because of the enhancement by Malerion, not only his strength increased but also his endurance
2 or 3 days without sleep is normal for him.
He sat at a central table, armor half-dismantled across it 5 t5tbt. I6. Thick-metal plates, straps, sharpened edges his gear looked like it could survive a tank shell. His voice rumbling low and steady.
"Morning, boss," Dreg muttered without looking up. "Patrol routes for today are mapped. We had a bit of gang movement near the southern alley. Already dealt with."
Malerion nodded.
"Dealt with" in Dreg's vocabulary usually meant "I broke their legs but left them alive as a warning."
Good enough.
Rafe leaned on the table next to him, cigarette dangling from his mouth at an angle that seemed physically impossible. He gave Malerion a lazy salute.
"The marketplace is heating up," Rafe said. "Heard two new groups wanna move into our supply routes. Nothing hostile yet. Just sniffing."
"If they sniff too close," Dreg growled, "they lose their nose."
Rafe smirked.
It was strange how well those two worked together brutal enforcer and cynical negotiator but they made it look natural.
Malerion moved on.
Quill's lab occupied the entire right wing now, built out of scavenged parts, stolen machinery, and runic panels powered by Malerion's resonance. When he stepped inside, the lighting flickered violet for a moment Quill's systems reacting to his energy signature.
Quill was inside, goggles on, surrounded by half-finished devices. The air buzzed with crackling echo-current.
"Perfect timing!" Quill practically launched himself forward. "Look look at this. Version nine-point-two! The stabilizer unit. I improved the lattice alignment. Now it catches resonance noise in real time your breakthroughs shouldn't shake the building anymore!"
Malerion raised an eyebrow.
"It shook because of my power, not your device."
"Well yes," Quill admitted, "but we don't want neighbors asking questions."
Fair.
Quill wiped his hands on his coat, eager to talk.
"Also small breakthrough. I combined infernal alloy with your residual Echo traces. It creates a hybrid material that holds enchantments better than base hellsteel. Stronger weapons, stronger armor, stronger wiring. I'm gonna need more scrap metal though."
"Send Skit and Bit," Malerion said.
Skit the larger imp was strong, fast, and loud.
Bit the smaller one was quiet, quick, and unnervingly good at slipping into places no one should fit. Together they handled transport, salvage, and all the physical tasks the others didn't want to do.
As if summoned, both imp brothers burst into the room, Skit carrying a crate, Bit carrying two crates somehow.
"Boss! We're ready!" Skit yelled.
"Ready for what?" Bit asked quietly.
"Doesn't matter," Skit replied. "We're always ready."
Quill pointed at them dramatically.
"You two! Scrap run. And be careful. don't kick any demons today."
Skit frowned.
"No promises."
Bit sighed.
They ran off.
Malerion left the lab and headed toward the darker corner of the building. Liza's domain.
She sat alone at a small table, notebook open, dagger spinning between her fingers with unnatural precision. Her wings twitched when she sensed him approach she was always aware, constantly alert.
She didn't speak immediately.
She closed her notebook first. softly, deliberately.
"Information routes are tightening," Liza said quietly. "Gangs are stirring because of yesterday's events. They think a new faction is rising. They're right."
Her eyes flicked to Malerion.
"And they're afraid."
"Good," Malerion replied.
Liza leaned back.
"But fear draws attention. Not all attention is useful. Especially from higher circles."
He understood the warning.
The Lust Ring might be chaotic, but its hierarchy still mattered.
Attract the wrong eyes, and survival became a coin toss.
"Keep monitoring Goetia movements," Malerion said. "Especially young ones."
A ghost of a smile touched her lips.
"Like our new visitor?"
He didn't answer.
She didn't expect him to.
Malerion stepped away, moving through the rooms, observing the life he had built:
■ agents coming and going
■ supplies tracked and stored
■ messages carried in and out
■ training underway
■ Quill's rune-tech humming
■ Dreg's drills shaking the floor
■ Liza's quiet presence mapping threats
■ Donnie coordinating the flow of information like a living network
This was no longer a crew.
It was an ecosystem.
And as Malerion walked through it, he felt the truth settle into his bones:
They trusted him because he had given them a place where they mattered.
Not as pawns.
Not as labor.
Not as replaceable bodies.
But as foundations.
Donnie met him at the main counter, holding a page filled with lists.
"We secured three new businesses under our protection," she said. "A clinic, two shops, and a weapons repair station. Payments come in weekly."
She glanced up, her expression softening.
"You built something real here, Malerion."
He didn't respond.
She didn't need him to.
He continued walking until he reached the balcony overlooking the district.
The air vibrated faintly his Fourth Ring still stabilizing, settling deeper into his soul.
The streets below were alive:
Neon lights flickering
Demons shouting
Vendors calling
Music bleeding through walls
Fireworks exploding at random
Chaos and color and hunger
The Lust Ring.
His territory.
His beginning.
Behind him, Alastor's voice slid into his mind like a quiet whisper:
"They would follow you anywhere."
Malerion didn't turn.
"I know."
"And with your new power…"
A pause.
A slow hum.
"…this organization might become far more than you imagined."
Malerion let the sounds of the district wash over him before answering:
"Then let's make sure we're ready for it."
And Sin Rouge lived on
not as a bar,
not as a gang,
not as a business.
But as a force growing quietly, steadily, inevitably…
Strong enough to shape the future.