Battle continued to rage through the tunnels, the air thick with the sound of clashing steel, arcane detonations, and the cries of both allies and enemies. Duskmere soldiers pressed forward, bloodied but unyielding, while enemy lines began to fracture under the relentless assault.
Though she heard the screams of her own wounded men, Sylviane remained composed. Her violet eyes scanned the chaotic battlefield with sharp clarity.
They were losing soldiers but they were winning ground.
She could feel it. The enemy was splintering.
"Push further!" she called out above the noise, her voice cutting through the din like a whip. "Don't let them regroup!"
The soldiers rallied behind her words, surging forward with renewed ferocity, their formation tightening as they advanced deeper into the enemy stronghold.
Amid the chaos, Sayo struck down another elite guard with chilling precision. Sylviane seized the moment.
"Flank them!" she commanded. "Sayo—trim them from the side. Shura, finish the rest! Collapse their line!"
Without hesitation, Sayo vanished into motion, light on her feet, swift as wind, her movements flowing like an elegant performance. She danced through enemy ranks with deadly grace, each strike ending a life before the body could hit the ground.
On the opposite flank, Shura carved her way through the panicking enemy guards with wild, animalistic savagery, her laughter unhinged and delighted as she tore through armor and bone alike.
The enemy's fear grew louder than their blades.
"KINGMAKERS! THEY'RE HERE!" one guard shouted. "EVERYONE RETREAT—!"
But it was too late.
They were caught in a pincer. Trapped between the cold, surgical precision of Sayo and the gleeful butchery of Shura.
The tunnel became a slaughterhouse. And the enemy? Just insects waiting to be crushed.
Back on the opposite side of the stronghold, where screams still echoed from the Nexus chamber, Ceris stood firm beside Ethan. The powered guard with glowing green tattoos was still holding his ground, his breath ragged but his stance unbroken.
Ceris exhaled and tightened her grip on her blade. "Same tactic as before," she said, not taking her eyes off their target. "We do this together. You weaken him, I'll finish it."
Ethan nodded, his heart still pounding from everything that had happened. His mark flickered with light, responding to his resolve.
"Got it," he said, steadying his stance. "Let's end this."
Before moving in, Ethan pulled another syringe from his belt and slammed it into his neck with a sharp hiss. The liquid surged through him instantly, energy flooding his limbs, the haze of fatigue replaced by a renewed edge.
Ceris followed suit, jabbing her own syringe into her side, regaining what stamina she could and sealing the minor cuts across her arms.
Without waiting, Ceris charged forward, her footsteps loud and intentional, drawing the guard's attention with a fierce war cry.
Ethan moved in the opposite direction, gliding through the shadows like smoke. He circled behind their opponent and lunged in, striking with his dagger only for the blade to snap instantly against the guard's hardened skin.
"Damn it—!"
Omen's voice surged into his mind, urgent and sharp. "Use the morphing blade. Cut through him properly. You've only got one clean shot—make it count!"
Ethan tightened his grip. Then he shouted over the clash of chaos, "Ceris! I only got one shot on this—make it count!"
The powered guard snapped his head toward Ethan, his glowing tattoos flaring. Ceris froze mid-step as Ethan stepped forward not rushing, not dodging just walking, casually.
The guard scoffed. "What the hell are you thinking, boy? Come and charge at me!"
But Ethan didn't respond. He kept walking—slowly—his movements unreadable.
The enemy's confidence wavered.
Then Ethan flinched.
The guard reacted instantly, preparing to intercept only to see no weapon in Ethan's hand. Just a chain wrapped loosely around one arm, and a rusty, broken dagger in the other.
He smirked, too soon.
Because in the blink of an eye, the dagger warped chains slithering and twisting as Omen's morphing hand-blade emerged, gleaming and sharp.
With one precise motion, Ethan sliced through the back of the guard's leg cutting clean through muscle and tendon.
The man screamed, collapsing to one knee.
Ceris surged forward without hesitation, her blade flashing in the dim light as she swept through his arm WOOSH!, clean, brutal, controlled. The limb dropped to the ground, still twitching.
The guard slumped forward, alive but no longer a threat.
Just as planned.
The guard writhed on the ground, blood pooling beneath him. His remaining hand clenched into a fist as he spat out through gritted teeth, voice laced with venom.
"So you're both Kingmaker and Candidate… heretical bastards." The guard Stated.
Before either of them could reply, another door burst open at the far end of the chamber.
Sylviane, Sayo, and the remaining Duskmere soldiers stormed in tired, bloodied, but intact. They found Ethan and Ceris standing in the aftermath of their fight, both of them hunched slightly, gasping for breath.
Ethan stumbled a step back, groaning as he clutched at his right arm. It felt like muscle tearing apart from the inside each movement sending searing pain through his nerves. But it wasn't as bad as before. Manageable. Barely.
He hissed through his teeth, but he didn't fall. Not this time.
For a few moments, the chamber settled into a heavy silence until the sound of rapid footsteps echoed from behind.
"Lynn! Lynn!" Kite's voice rang out, cracking with panic. He stormed into the room, eyes darting until they locked onto a small figure strapped into one of the experimental chairs.
His twin sister.
Tubes glowed with arcane light, pulsating softly as they fed unknown substances through intricate rune-etched syringes and bindings. She was pale, unconscious, her limbs twitching faintly.
Kite rushed forward, arms outstretched, reaching to tear the tubes away
"DON'T TOUCH HER!" Sylviane's voice snapped like thunder across the room.
Kite froze.
She stepped forward, her tone icy but controlled. "Those bindings are arcane-anchored. Remove them wrong and you might kill her."
Kite stood frozen, eyes wide with horror.
A moment later, Carter entered the chamber with backup in tow medics, Duskmere researchers, and armored soldiers filtering in behind him, already moving toward the prisoners.
"We've got it from here," Carter said, assessing the scene with a practiced eye. "Everyone hold position until the medics finish stabilizing the victims."
Carter turned to the lead researcher. "Secure every piece of evidence you can: notes, tools, samples, devices, anything tied to these experiments. I want nothing left behind."
He then motioned to the medics. "All arcane-innate children are to be transported back to Duskmere Manor immediately. Lady Maelin will oversee their treatment personally."
The medics nodded, already working with practiced hands to stabilize the unconscious children.
Carter turned back to the room of weary, blood-soaked soldiers. "All soldiers who fought today were dismissed. You've earned three days' rest. Report back on the fourth."
His eyes settled on Ethan, Ceris, Sylviane, and Sayo. For a moment, he allowed a rare smile to flicker across his face.
"Excellent work," he said. "Minimal losses, objective secured. This was a perfect operation well done."
Kite, still kneeling beside his sister, looked up quickly. "Please… let me come with her," he said, voice low but trembling. "I'm her only family. When she wakes up, she'll look for me. She'll need me."
There was a beat of silence.
One of the researchers immediately shook their head. "Out of the question. Unauthorized civilians are not permitted within the manor's medical wing."
Kite's expression fell, and he lowered his head, still clutching his sister's hand.
Ethan watched the exchange in quiet frustration, his fists clenching. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He wanted to say something, to argue for Kite but what good would it do?
He didn't have that kind of authority.
Not yet."
Soon, the chamber began to empty, soldiers escorted the injured, medics wheeled the unconscious, and researchers packed away everything of importance. Only a few Duskmere soldiers remained behind, along with Carter, to oversee the final sweep and inspection.
Carter stepped toward the captured elite guard, who was bound and slumped against the wall, blood still oozing from his severed arm.
"Who do you work for?" Carter asked, voice low but commanding. "Why the children? What's your motive?"
The guard chuckled through ragged breaths, his lips curling into a bloodstained smile. "Oh… if you think this is where it ends, you're dumber than you look."
He coughed, spitting to the side.
"You think you've saved something today? All you've done is delay the inevitable. We are already moving."
Carter's eyes narrowed. "Who are you working for? What are they planning?"
But the guard only smiled wider until his body jerked violently.
Veins bulged. His flesh began to tremble and bubble as if boiling from within.
Then.
With a wet, grotesque sound, his body burst from the inside. Toxic green liquid gushed out, his blood entirely replaced by the same glowing, chemical hue that had fueled his strength.
The few soldiers nearby stumbled back, covering their faces as the air filled with an acrid stench.
After a while…
The capital plaza, once filled with the usual bustle of vendors, performers, and passersby, suddenly quieted as a low hum rolled across the cobbled streets. Arcane pylons lining the square lit up, glowing softly with runes that pulsed to life one by one.
A shimmering projection formed in the air, words woven in light, accompanied by faint illusionary visuals for all to see. The crowd gathered, eyes locked on the magical display as it began to broadcast the news.
📜URGENT ANNOUNCEMENT: SYNDICATE BENEATH THE CAPITAL SUBJUGATED BY HOUSE DUSKMERE 📜
A major underground syndicate operating beneath the capital city has been successfully subjugated by the forces of House Duskmere, led by the respective Candidates Lady Sylviane Duskmere and Lady Ceris Valen Duskmere, alongside their Kingmakers and Duskmere Forces.
The mission uncovered the site of an illegal human trafficking operation. Multiple kidnapped personnel were rescued, including several arcane-innate children who were found strapped to experimental arcane apparatuses.
All surviving victims have been taken to Duskmere Manor, where they are currently receiving care and magical purification. The children, in particular, are being closely monitored for potential residual effects from the unknown arcane experiments inflicted upon them.
Both The Throne and the Capital Merchant Guild have expressed deep gratitude to House Duskmere for their decisive action in eradicating these criminals and restoring peace and order within the region.
The final image lingered a brilliant, glowing projection of the Duskmere crest with the words "FOR HONOR, FOR PEACE" etched beneath it.
Whispers filled the plaza. Some in awe. Others, in fear.
But all eyes now turned to Duskmere.
And not all of them were friendly.
Behind closed doors, within candlelit halls and crystal-sealed chambers, the whispers began.
Other noble houses, especially those vying for prestige and influence near the capital, bristled with barely veiled resentment.
They had long suspected something stirred beneath the city's underbelly but it was House Duskmere who had struck first. It was Duskmere whose name now graced the headlines, whose Candidates stood triumphant before the Throne.
Some viewed it as a power play. Others, a calculated stunt.
But none could deny it: they had been outmaneuvered.
Fury bubbled quietly in certain salons and court meetings. Glances sharpened. Alliances shifted.
And while the public celebrated, the game of power had already begun anew.
House Duskmere had claimed a victory.
But in doing so they'd also painted a much larger target on their back.
Meanwhile Private Council Hearing
The chamber was silent but heavy with tension. Nine high-backed seats circled the arcane table, each one etched with the crest of a powerful noble family or faction. Protective glyphs shimmered faintly along the walls, sealing the meeting from prying ears and arcane interference.
The speaker of the chamber gave a nod.
Lord Renat Viremont, draped in deep crimson robes embroidered with a golden lion, leaned forward first. His voice was smooth, calm, and polished with venom.
"So. House Duskmere believes it can act without oversight now. Bold. Reckless. Embarrassing, for this Council."
The representative of House Roum, an elegant woman with a serene but unreadable expression, folded her hands calmly on the table.
"While I will not fault their intent, the… velocity of their action leaves no room for proper counsel. We cannot have nobles operating as they please beneath the capital."
The youngest among them, the Valan patriarch, adjusted his glasses and spoke without hesitation.
"And yet they succeeded. Cleanly. Decisively. While the rest of us debated, they acted and saved lives. That deserves recognition, not reprimand."
Viremont's tone chilled.
"It sets a dangerous precedent. Candidates bypassing protocol? Kingmakers moving unchecked in the streets? We are not above the law. Not even the righteous."
House Roum's matriarch added quietly,
"The people are watching. The merchants speak. The press glorifies them. If we do not maintain control of the narrative, we lose the balance we've worked so hard to preserve."
Valan shot back, tone calm but pointed.
"Perhaps it is the Council's balance that must change. If House Duskmere can act without our permission and still protect the capital better than we have perhaps it is not them who are failing the realm."
Viremont's eyes narrowed slightly.
"And why, may I ask, did they take every arcane-innate child straight to their manor? As if they were claiming property, not people."
Valan responded without pause.
"You've heard the reports. We are not talking about simple rescues, we are talking about children exposed to illegal arcane experiments. While the Council's medical ward is adequate, let's be honest House Duskmere's medicine under Lady Maelin is leagues beyond anything we can offer. If there was ever a time to trust a healer's hands, this is it."
Silence again. Tension rose like steam from the stone floors.
The masked Arcane Commission representative finally spoke. Their voice was neutral, mechanical.
"Kingmaker regulation and Candidate autonomy will be reviewed. No formal reprimand. But oversight will be increased."
No vote was called. No names were marked. But a message had been sent.
And the Council, rattled by a house that didn't ask permission to be heroic, began sharpening their laws in the dark.
Later that evening, within the quiet halls of Duskmere Manor, a sealed letter arrived by hawk, its wax bearing the unmistakable crimson lion crest of House Viremont.
Arthur received it in silence, his fingers steady as he broke the seal. The parchment within was laced with perfumed ink, written in Lord Viremont's exacting hand.
📜"Lord Arthur Duskmere,📜
While your recent actions have stirred the admiration of the common folk, I urge you to remember that such glory, when seized without sanction, breeds instability.
Heroes who act without chains often become the very chaos they swore to prevent.
I trust you will tread more cautiously in the future, for the eyes of the Council do not close so easily.
—Lord Renat Viremont"
Arthur read the letter in silence, his eyes narrowing with each line.
Across from him, Edrick sat quietly, already sipping from his tea.
"So, House Viremont has decided to flaunt their pettiness," he remarked, voice calm but sharp. "Still... I must commend you, brother. Bold moves, even if dangerously so."
Arthur said nothing.
Edrick set down his cup with a soft clink. "We need to seize the narrative while it's still ours to shape. Host a public ceremony. Open the new healing ward Maelin has been quietly preparing one, hasn't she? Use it. Frame the operation as a service to the people. Let them see the ones we rescued. Let them see Sylviane and Ceris."
He paused.
"And honor them. Ceris, Sylviane the Kingmaker, whoever else was involved. Elevate them before the public eye. If we control what the people talk about, the Council will be forced to respond to the court of opinion, not just their own posturing."
Arthur raised a brow slightly. "A show of compassion... and strength."
Edrick nodded once. "Exactly."
Arthur leaned back in his chair, contemplative for a moment. Then he gave a firm nod.
"Very well. In four days' time, we'll host the event. Make the preparations discreetly but thoroughly. If we are to make a statement, let it be one they can't ignore."