The city of Eldren sprawled beneath a sky of bruised indigo, its limestone walls glowing faintly under the first stars. Towers capped with bronze domes pierced the dusk, and the air carried the mingled scents of spice markets and forge-smoke. Yet beneath the bustle of merchants and clattering carts, a tension coiled, sharp as a drawn blade. Toji stood at the edge of the central plaza, his dark coat snapping in the evening breeze, nano-magic humming through his veins like a living current. He scanned the crowd—traders haggling, guards patrolling, children darting through alleys—but his senses locked on something deeper, a pulse of wrongness woven into the city's stones. Eldren was a jewel of trade, but it glittered with deceit.
Frankie adjusted his dust-streaked robe, clutching a leather satchel of scrolls. "Voryn's hall is just ahead," he said, voice low. "He's the only governor who hasn't pledged to Helmund's war. If we can sway him…"
"He's hiding something," Toji said, eyes narrowing. "Men like him don't sit out wars for honor."
Elian, leaning against a lamppost, twirled a dagger with practiced ease. "Neutral's just another word for coward. Or schemer. Bet he's got his own game."
Toji didn't respond, but his hatred for greed—for men who wielded power like a cudgel—burned hot. Helmund's war on Valthorne and Marveth had been a lie, a spark to feed the Horned One's chaos. Now, whispers of revolt among Sarfin's governors reached Toji's ears, and Voryn, ruler of Eldren, was the key to understanding why. The confusion gnawed: what drove these men, if not the same demonic taint as Helmund?
They crossed the plaza, passing a towering statue of an Old God, its stone face weathered but stern, one hand raised in benediction. Frankie paused, squinting at its base. "Look at this," he whispered, tracing a faint spiral glyph etched into the limestone. The symbol pulsed with violet light, subtle but unmistakable, mirroring the runes Toji had seen in Gulmund's dungeons.
"Demonic," Toji said, nano-magic flaring to map the glyph's energy. It wasn't just a ward—it was alive, woven into the city's foundations. "This isn't decoration. It's control."
Frankie's eyes widened. "Like Helmund's binding spells. But why here? Eldren's no warfront."
"Yet," Elian muttered, gripping his dagger. "Let's move. Eyes on us."
Toji followed his gaze. A pair of guards in bronze-trimmed armor lingered near a fountain, their stares too deliberate. He nodded, and the trio pressed toward Voryn's hall, a marble edifice flanked by columns carved with crescent flames. The air grew heavier, the glyph's pulse a faint drumbeat in Toji's senses. Whatever Voryn knew, it was tied to this corruption—and Toji would tear the truth from him.
Inside, the hall gleamed with opulence: polished floors, drapes of Sarfin's battles, and braziers casting golden light. Governor Voryn awaited them on a raised dais, his silver hair swept back, his robes a deep emerald that shimmered like serpent scales. His eyes, sharp and gray, studied Toji with a mix of curiosity and wariness. Two advisors flanked him, their hands clasped in practiced calm, but Toji's nano-senses caught the faint tremor of their pulses—nervous, guarded.
"Lightbringer," Voryn said, voice smooth as oil. "Eldren welcomes the hero of Marveth. Your deeds precede you."
Toji stood rigid, unswayed by flattery. "I'm no hero. I'm here for answers. Why do you sit out Helmund's war while cities burn?"
Voryn's smile tightened. "War is a crude tool. Eldren thrives on trade, not blood. But I hear whispers—cities restless, governors questioning the crown. Perhaps you know more of this than I."
Frankie stepped forward, clutching his satchel. "We know Helmund's tainted. Demonic runes control his army. We've seen them here, too—in your statues."
The advisors stiffened, but Voryn's expression remained serene. "Ancient relics," he said, waving a hand. "Eldren's stones are older than Sarfin itself. You mistake history for treachery."
Toji's nano-magic surged, probing Voryn's aura. A faint shadow clung to him, not as blatant as Helmund's corruption but undeniable—a taint that whispered of demons and greed. "History doesn't pulse with demonic energy," Toji said, voice cold. "You're part of this, or you're blind. Which is it?"
Voryn's eyes flickered, a crack in his composure. "Bold words for a guest. Accuse me, and you accuse half the kingdom's lords. The governors grow restless, yes, but not for demons. For power. For freedom."
"Freedom?" Elian scoffed, stepping closer. "Sounds like revolt. You planning to stab the king in the back?"
The advisors' hands moved to hidden blades, but Voryn raised a hand, silencing them. "Revolt is a strong word. I merely observe. The crown's grip weakens, and men like Helmund exploit it. You'd do well to choose your allies carefully, Lightbringer."
Toji's hatred flared. Men like Voryn—cloaked in silk and lies—were no better than Helmund, trading lives for ambition. He stepped forward, nano-particles sparking faintly at his fingertips. "I serve truth, not allies. If you're hiding demonic taint, I'll burn it out myself."
The air crackled with tension, advisors poised to act, but a scream shattered the moment. Glass exploded inward as cloaked figures—five, hooded, their blades etched with violet runes—crashed through the hall's windows. Assassins, their movements unnaturally swift, eyes glowing with demonic fervor.
"Protect the governor!" Toji roared, nano-magic flaring. He leaped, nano-blade forming—a humming edge of compressed energy—and met the first assassin mid-air. Their rune-etched dagger sparked against his blade, but Toji twisted, disarming them with a precise strike. The assassin crumpled, unconscious but alive.
Frankie ducked behind a column, chanting an old tongue. A rune-stone flared in his hand, casting a web of light that bound two assassins, their blades frozen mid-swing. "They're enchanted!" he shouted. "Like Helmund's soldiers!"
Elian moved like a shadow, daggers flashing. He felled one assassin with a throat-cut, then tackled another, pinning them to the floor. "Stay down!" he growled, blood streaking his face.
Toji faced the final assassin, a woman whose eyes burned red, her blade radiating demonic heat. She lunged, her strike a blur, but Toji's nano-senses tracked her. He sidestepped, nano-threads wrapping her weapon, and shattered it with a pulse of energy. She snarled, raising a rune-etched amulet that pulsed with violet light—a spell mid-cast, summoning a wave of black flame.
Toji acted instinctively. His nano-magic infiltrated the spell's matrix, rewriting its arcane code mid-cast. The flame flickered, then imploded, scorching the assassin's cloak. She staggered, and Toji knocked her out with a nano-charged fist, her amulet clattering to the floor.
The hall fell silent, save for the crackle of dying braziers. Voryn's advisors cowered, but the governor stood, unscathed, his gray eyes wide. "You… saved us," he said, voice trembling. "Why?"
Toji sheathed his nano-blade, chest heaving. "Because I serve a God who values life, not power. But you're not clean, Voryn. Those glyphs, these assassins—they're tied to the same taint as Helmund."
Frankie retrieved the amulet, studying its runes. "These match the statue's glyphs," he said, voice urgent. "They're embedded in Eldren's foundations—dozens, maybe hundreds. This city's a web of demonic control."
Voryn's face paled, but his voice held steady. "If what you say is true, I've been blind. But I'm no traitor. The governors… some seek change, others something darker. I'll share what I know, Lightbringer, but trust is earned both ways."
Toji's nano-senses probed Voryn again. The taint lingered, subtle but real, yet the governor's fear seemed genuine. Confusion swirled—why protect a city laced with demonic runes? Was Voryn a pawn or a player? "You'll talk," Toji said, "or I'll carve the truth from these stones myself."
Elian wiped blood from his dagger, smirking. "He's good for it, governor. Start with who sent those assassins."
Voryn hesitated, then nodded. "Not here. My private chambers, tonight. Bring your scholar—he'll want to see the archives."
Frankie clutched the amulet, eyes gleaming. "If there's proof of a wider conspiracy, it's in those records."
Toji turned to the shattered windows, where Eldren's lights flickered like a city holding its breath. The glyphs' pulse lingered in his senses, a silent warning of corruption spreading beyond Helmund, beyond Gulmund. His hatred for greed—for men who traded souls for power—burned brighter, but a deeper question gnawed: who wove this web, and why? The Marveth relic, the dungeon runes, now Eldren's stones—all threads in a tapestry he couldn't yet see.
As they followed Voryn deeper into the hall, Toji's hand brushed the relic in his coat, its spiral glyph warm against his skin. His faith steadied him, a beacon in the dark. Whatever truth awaited, he'd face it with the light of his God—not for glory, but for the lives this corruption threatened. Eldren's stones held secrets, and Toji would break them open, no matter the cost.