Hutt and Les, the undeniable protagonists of the past few days, struggled to rein in their subordinates—men whose eyes burned bloodshot with a raw, carnivorous fury for revenge. To carve out a place in this notoriously ruthless city, both had relied on cunning and cruelty; they were no fools, and both sensed the trap closing in. But life is full of disappointments—sometimes you step into a pit knowing it’s there, because you have no choice.

  As dusk crept in, a thief weaved through the sparse crowd, feigning casualness while his gaze fixated on pockets, not paths. A seasoned pickpocket, he could gauge a man’s wealth by the sag of fabric over clothing. Two hours of prowling had yielded nothing; the city teemed with paupers, and wealthy marks were scarce.

  Oh, the rich existed—smugglers dripping with gold, slave magnates bloated with profit—but they were untouchable. A smuggler would beat him and sever a finger; a slaver would cage him like livestock and sell him in a foreign market.

  Just as he despaired of an empty haul, a target emerged. The man dressed plainly, but the thief’s practiced eye caught the subtle signs: pockets sagging at the bottom, openings flaring slightly, hems lifting from hidden weight. Coins, not stones. Experience told him: one or two silver coins, perhaps some coppers. A perfect mark—one silver equaled 1,170 coppers, more than a day’s plunder from paupers.

  He melted into the crowd, closing in as an unremarkable passerby. The man showed no sign of awareness—until they brushed shoulders.

  The thief’s wrist was clamped in a vice-like grip. The “mark” turned, face twisted with murderous intent, hatred radiating like heat. Panicked, the thief struggled, shouting, “What the hell? Let go! Help, there’s a madman here!” As he yelled, his free hand slid to the dagger hidden in his chest—thieves stored weapons there, using the pretense of “returning stolen goods” to access them, a safer gambit than reaching for a waist weapon.

  But this was no ordinary mark. The man and his companions were Brotherhood thugs, driven feral by revenge, beyond even Hutt’s control. The Light God grants all the right to pursue happiness—and vengeance. Return joy for joy, death for death.

  Half a dozen men closed in, jostling the thief into a tight circle. Before he could whistle for help, a searing pain exploded in his gut, spreading like wildfire. He lost control of his bladder in terror as the men vanished into the crowd, leaving him staring at the dagger hilt protruding from his abdomen. Blood dripped onto the cobblestones, his strength ebbing. He staggered and fell, body stiffening in the cold night wind.

  Hutt, jaw clenched, led his remaining men into the street, resolved to end things with Les once and for all. Days of reflection had revealed the truth: Pramisburg had abandoned them. Former allies had cut ties after the first battle; men like Harvey had beaten his envoys and thrown them into the street, making their stance clear—they waited to scavenge the ruins.

  No more false hope. Hutt had spent his savings on a smuggler’s promise: sanctuary and passage to another city, provided he reached the smuggler’s camp before dawn, victory or defeat.

  Though rage at losing his empire burned in his chest, survival instinct kept him cold, calculating.

  In the darkness, his eyes glinting like frost, Hutt gripped his longsword and faced the dense, shadowy mass across the street. He raised his arm in a final, defiant gesture. “Kill!”

  A night of bloodshed followed.

  Alma’s mind churned as she held the thin parchment—the very object for which hundreds fought and died blocks away. This piece of paper had shattered Pramisburg’s resistance to Arno, turning allies into enemies. Tonight, every faction in the city watched the battle… except Arno. He’d sent word, entrusting her with the deed to the Golden Ring manor, the spark that had ignited this inferno.

  The promise of a million gold coins made her heart race, blood pounding in her temples. For a moment, she imagined fleeing Pramisburg, starting over in a city where no one knew her name, living as a wealthy woman far from the claws of this urban jungle.

  But reason prevailed over temptation. She would follow Arno’s orders, delivering the parchment to the location he’d specified.

  In the end, she knew better than to trust greed over survival in a city where wolves outnumbered lambs.