Seducing the Guideverse With My System — Raising an Anomaly [BL]

Hale-Ferguson Residence

"I meannn." Devon burst the door open, carrying a sleeping Orion in his arms. "The penalty for this mission doesn’t sound that bad. At least, compared to the others you’ve told us about."

"Yeah," Viktor walked right beside Ambrose, an arm slung lazily around his shoulders. "Just a random teleportation. With that black key of yours and your current power level, it could just be a brief vacation at most."

It was just past one pm in Aurelia—but everyone was exhausted. Rightfully so after the fun evening they had at Geneva.

Sadly, that fun was already over for Ambrose thanks to the system’s new mission.

"You guys don’t get it," He sighed, shutting the door behind them. "This system is so... unpredictable. It could say I’ll only be randomly teleported and end up seizing the Black Key."

Viktor arched a brow. "Now that you mention it," he turned his head to him, "have you ever failed a system mission? Like... ever?"

"... Nope."

"So how are you sure it’ll give you these punishments?"

"Oh, trust me," Ambrose scoffed. "It will and can. The thing already pulled my soul across universes and rewards me each time I win. What makes you think it won’t lash me if I fail?"

The ice Prince sighed. "Fair point." He planted a peck on Rose’s cheek, gradually slipping away from him. "I’m sure you’ll figure this out. You always do."

Devon, who was already climbing the stairs with Orion, spun briefly to add.

"I know that’s right. I’d cheer you on more but... you know." He jerked his chin toward the troublemaker in his arms.

Ambrose smirked. "You know there’s a chance he’d be awake tonight now that you’re letting him sleep this afternoon, right?"

"And THIS is exactly why I hate travelling sometimes," Devon grumbled, continuing his ascent. "I might get some shut-eye myself."

"Make room for me." Viktor rushed to him after grabbing a can of vodka soda. "We can cuddle."

"You’re sleeping on the ground if you try that."

"That’s not very husband material of you."

"Husband? Did the spatial turbulence from Gabriel teleporting us here mess with your head?"

As the two S-Ranks disappeared from his line of vision, bickering as silently as possible... Ambrose shook his head with a smile.

[You worry too much, you know.] Aura finally chimed in his head.

If he could give her a stink eye, he would. ’And who set that system up?’

[I don’t know what you’re talking about.]

’You’re literally the system’s voice and avatar. Don’t try acting like you’re suddenly innocent.’

[... Well, to be fair, I’m programmed to push you past your limits. You can’t exactly blame me.]

’Well, until I find the assholes who created you, I’m gonna be blaming your ass for a LONG time.’ A pause. ’That’s if the Archons don’t destroy us before that.’

He moved to the kitchen countertop, palms resting on its cool surface.

How does he go about finding a dungeon with an intelligent race willing to listen to him?

So far he’s encountered the Elves of the Purple Rift. From what he heard, they’d originally been hostile to the Hunters who arrived there before him—killing one of them because they thought they were a threat.

Then there was the Veyr who kidnapped Viktor.

The clear pattern here was that just like humans, these people would always be cautious around alien outsiders.

[There’s one race you’re forgetting, sweetheart.]

Ambrose blinked. ’Hm?’

[Before the Elves and the Veyr. There’s an intelligent race you’ve become quite acquainted with.]

It only took a couple more seconds for it to click.

The orcs!

"Wait," He rubbed his forehead. "Ignoring the fact that I’m confused on why you’re helping me out... the orcs might be the worst race I’ve encountered so far. Easily. Beherath and his cronies were ready to kill me back then."

[Yes, but that was one tribe isolated in a single cave ecosystem. Just like you encountered one tribe of the Veyr while there are several scattered around their world.]

[Also, I’m not ’helping’. It was merely a suggestion.]

Now Ambrose found himself squinting, his mind going into deep thought.

What if there was a Rift out there that could lead him to another Orc tribe? Or, maybe... to the main Orc civilisation itself?

’Beherath.’ He straightened, dark wisps of Necrotic energy already snaking around his wrists. ’Rise.’

The lights flickered twice, Beherath appearing behind him a heartbeat later.

He stood so high that he had to crouch to avoid breaking the ceiling, the scent of smoke and sulfur surrounding him.

"My lord." He gave an acknowledging grunt in the orc tongue. "You called."

Ambrose faced him, arms folding in front of his chest. "You never told me anything about the orcs. Outside your tribe." His head tilted. "Does your race have a single world? Perhaps separated into—"

"For millennia," the orc king switched easily to English, "the orcs have travelled beyond our home world. After the great war that scarred the planet, we began opening up gates to other worlds."

"We do not share a single, supreme ruler. Haven’t for thousands of years now."

The explanation settled into Ambrose’s head.

So they were an interstellar race.

Just great.

"Your tribe," He went on. "The Mordak tribe, was it?" His head inclined. "Did they have prior relations with other tribes? Also, the women and children... do you have a clue on what might’ve become of them?"

An odd sense of realisation mixed with guilt stirred in him, forcing him to quickly utter:

"I know this is a sensitive topic for you. You don’t have to—"

"Nonsense," Beherath shook his head. "I live to serve, my lord."

His crimson gaze lowered for a fleeting moment.

"The Mordak tribe traded with others," he answered quietly. "Weapons. Ore. Livestock. We were not beloved... but neither were we alone."

His massive jaw tightened.

"If any survived our army’s absence, they would have returned to our ancestral homeland. It is where every Mordak is taught to go should the tribe ever fall."

Ambrose’s eyes lit with understanding. "Can you take me there?"

"Not by my power." The orc king shook his head. "The bond that ties me to you is stronger than the bond to my homeland. But..." His nostrils flared. "You possess a key capable of crossing worlds. If you will it... it should answer."

Silence settled over the kitchen.

An intelligent civilisation. One where Beherath’s name could still carry weight.

It wasn’t a guarantee of success.

But it was infinitely better than stepping into an unfamiliar world and hoping diplomacy won over instinct.

This was his best chance.

Ambrose exhaled slowly, already reaching into his inventory.

A jagged black key materialised in his hand, its obsidian surface swallowing the light around it.

"Well then," he murmured, curling his fingers around the ancient artefact, "let’s pay the Mordak tribe a visit."

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