Breathing haggardly, Cenvin finally stops struggling against the creepers. Through the combined effort of Durand and Lenny, they trapped Cenvin in a web of vines that restrained his every attempt to break free. Cenvin raises his head to look at his party members.

  “I’m sorry for being a goofy goober. I think I’m just very pissed off at the fact that we’re not getting paid.”

  “At least Lucius provided us with this penthouse, and he agreed to help us heal Brett.”

  “I don’t know- didn’t you say Lucius was a traitor?”

  Cenvin stops, working to find the correct phrase.

  “It’s my kleptomania. I NEED to get gold, and you forbid me to steal and stuff, so, you know, it’s making me demented!”

  Durand sighs and unravels the vines. He crashes into the ground.

  “You made Shyn leave and who knows where she is right now, you probably pissed off Lucius for that foiled attack on Starmetal which lost a lot of his men, and Starmetal is probably pissed off too, come to think of it. How are you going to repent?”

  “I’ll get us a salary,” Cenvin breathes.

  “We don’t care about money as you do.”

  “I'll go by myself then!”

  Durand sits on the couch and begins sharpening his knife. “Go ahead.”

  Looking to Lenny for support, Cenvin picks up his shortswords. Lenny shakes his head and joins Durand in cleaning his prized scimitar. Cenvin shakes his head disappointingly and leaves for Shadow’s Edge’s base.

  The grizzled doorman slides open the peephole and narrow his eyes at Cenvin. He takes note of Cenvin’s distraught appearance.

  “Whadda you want now?”

  “Let me in to see Lucius.”

  “None can do, kid.”

  “Oh, come on!”

  “Kid, you need a passcode, didn’t Lucius tell you one?”

  “He didn’t!”

  “Don’t know nothin’ to say then, goodbye-”

  “Wait!”

  The peephole slides shut.

  “Sephyr!”

  Someone said my name? Haha, jk. Despite appearing quite disgruntled to do so, The doorman opens the door.

  “God damn it, the devil must've told you,” the doorman complains as Cenvin slides in. He makes a face at him, which angers him even more. Cursing, he returns to his chair.

  Cenvin opens the door to see Lucius playing with a toy star. He happily squeezes it, which lets out a piercing noise. A maniacal smile forms around his lips. Upon seeing Cenvin he stows the star away in his cabinet and crosses his fingers and legs, leaning back in classic evil mastermind fashion.

  “Cenvin. Quite… a surprise.”

  Cenvin smirks as if he had just gained access to blackmail material.

  “Didn’t know you liked to play with kid’s toys.”

  “Ah, well, it is quite satisfying to hear screams. I like to imagine it’s from an actual human. Don’t you as well?”

  “That will be Lenny. I can’t match his war criminal psyche.”

  “Anyway, what wind blows you here, my friend? Take a seat.”

  Cenvin yields the request and sits on the chair directly in front of Lucius. Cenvin looks around, marveling once again at the mixture of rainbows and sunlight, and redirects to Lucius.

  “I want to get paid.”

  “Is this demand echoed by your party?”

  “...Yes.”

  Lucius narrows his eyes and bores into Cenvin’s. They lock eye contact as Cenvin shields his true thoughts from Lucius’s gaze.

  “Very well. Who am I to object? You execute your orders well, after all. But one small thing,” his smooth voice flickers with a hint of emotion.

  “Anything you ask,” Cenvin pushes eagerly, “I just want to be paid from now on.”

  An invisible hammer slams into Cenvin, knocking the air out of him.

  “Wha-”

  A transparent force shoves him into the ceiling with a POOM, and as he falls, two air walls crush him from both sides in a resounding CRACK(that’s gotta be a few broken bones!). He lands on the ground, his body quivering in pain. Lucius stands, casually flourishing a longsword of air.

  “Thank you, my friend, for being the outlet of some long-suppressed stress,” he remarks cheerfully. “I haven’t forgotten the death of my brother, after all, and all the fiasco that comes with you storming one of the most powerful organizations in Italica.”

  He stabs the invisible blade into Cenvin’s back, earning a scream.

  “Here’s my proposition. For every successful mission, you earn one silver coin, a bargain. What say you, friend? I can solidify the very air in your lungs. Decide wisely!”

  “Yes… yes,” Cenvin whispers.

  “Splendid! I wish you a good day, Cenvin. If your party had come, I’d known you were telling the truth. But alas!”

  Cenvin scrambles up like a terrified mouse and shuffles away from Lucius’s room, as fast as possible. The doorman nods him goodbye solemnly as if he knows what has taken place behind him.

  “Words can’t describe how much I want to grab Lucius’s stupid noggin and thrust it into barbed wire! Unless Diem lets me swear-” he looks hopefully to the sky.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  No.

  “Damn!”

  I’ll allow that.

  “So from what you’ve told me,” Durand slowly states, “it seems like you’ve angered yet another significant and powerful person, essentially the mafia’s godfather. Is that right?”

  Lenny grabs his scimitar tightly, ready to pounce on Cenvin. Durand waves him back.

  “Cenvin?”

  Blood coursing through his veins, Cenvin manages to sit stiffly on the couch. “No more in-fighting, we’re not getting anywhere.”

  Lenny sheathes his scimitar in disappointment. Durand shakes his head and also sits.

  “Game plan. Progress the story. What’s next?”

  “Well, it seems that we are just waiting for another message from the sending stones, right?”

  “Where’s our sending stones?”

  Their eyes fall on a small pebble on the table. Cenvin snatches it first before Durand can react. He turns it over to see the symbol.

  “It’s a… black hole?”

  Lenny picks it from Cenvin’s hand.

  “‘Tis mine,” he says irritably.

  “Oh. Sorry. Durand, found our sending stones yet?”

  “No. When was the last time you saw them?”

  “That doesn’t help. Everyone asks that! It’s rhetorical!”

  “Well, how about we just look at every inch of this big-ass penthouse then? Would that please you?”

  “Don’t look at me like that, man. Inventory management is a pain and you know that! I mean- you’re a spellcaster, cast Detect Magic or something-”

  “I don’t have it prepared!”

  “Jesus, then prepare it!”

  “Do you have any idea how Ranger’s spellcasting works?”

  “Ok then, Megamind, tell me, how do you prepare spells?”

  “Levelling up, dummy.”

  You are arguing like a married couple, cut it.

  “WHY DID YOU MISPLACE THE SENDING STONES THEN, DIEM-”

  It’s not my fault you guys are blind! Look under you!

  “Oh.”

  Cenvin hands Durand the triangle-etched sending stone and keeps the cross-shaped one for himself.

  “Uh… yep, this is mine. Triangle, check.”

  “Now that whole fiasco is over,” Lenny says, “would you care to get back on track? Any new missions?”

  “No,” Durand replies, tracing his finger over the carved triangle of his sending stone.

  “Then we will have to wait.”

  Lenny tosses his stone into the air and catches it again. Holding it out in the dying sunlight, he looks into the black hole. A sliver of solace weaves across his mind and he sighs.

  In the dead midnight, vague forms of spectrals can be seen carrying the living into the sky to feed. The streets, devoid of civilians, are spotted with torchlight across the city. These moving spotlights, their owners Orions and Mercs alike, scan neatly amongst the towers and magnificence. Outside the party’s penthouse, a portal opens and Cenvin gingerly leaps out, careful not to alert his slumbering party.

  Finally, when the coast is clear, Cenvin sneaks onto a Hyperslate and goes down the Skytower, returning to Shadow’s Edge. Slinking amongst the shadows, he carefully avoids a group of Orions hurriedly rushing by, walks around an amalgamation feeding on a group of stray cats, melding their crushed parts into its form, and parkours over a group of Mercs in an alleyway, silently staring at their sending stones. One looks up to the veil, attempting to pierce past to see the distant stars. Cenvin pulled himself against the wall just in time. He stealthily treks across the roofs like a ninja with a clear mission.

  Once again using his portals to teleport into the hall outside the entrance, he pauses, listening to the fruity smells of fragrances and the lumbering snores of the doorman. Stepping through the pocket dimension he swiftly infiltrates the complex.

  “Can’t beat you, huh?” he flourishes a dagger previously hidden inside his cloak. “Just die, you disrespecting bastard-”

  He blends with the wall as a sleepy Merc walks by, yawning as he drags his spear down the hallway. Cenvin falls into his pocket dimension right before the Merc turns to him.

  Popping out into a lightless room, he feels around, hands outstretched, and feels something metal, rumbling, and alive. He silently yelps as he quickly pulls back. Lighting a torch, he waves it around to illuminate the room.

  Machines. Large and small, the still and the moving, the engines and the apparatuses. Cenvin is frozen with wonder but an idea strikes him in seconds. His face contorts into a cruel smirk.

  Carefully placing his torch on the ground and drawing his shortswords, he begins stabbing at the machinery. He jabs his blades into what seems like a power box. The machine it connects to sputters and gasps. He continues by jamming his hilt between a few cogs. The machine jolts, shudders, and finally dies. Turning to another what seems like a tank, he slashes it open, spilling crude oil across the ground. He quickly moves the torch away.

  “Not yet,” he whispers to himself.

  Kicking at the puddle, he cuts apart a tangle of rods and wires. The mechanism chokes and electric bolts immediately consume the entire body, frying it and leaving it burned and charred.

  Grabbing a small flask of alcohol he preserved, he splashes it in an oil-free section of the room. He draws a piece of fabric, soaks it with the oil, and rubs it onto the machines. The ones still functional around him seem to beg for mercy and cry in their metallic voices. He looks cooly at the technologies around him, and picks up the torch, putting it close to the bleeding oil. The tank that had leaked the blood had bled out.

  “Electricity, industry, machines. It’s the medieval times, Lucius! What else do you have?” he whispers. “I’m genuinely so excited to see what other inventions your organization wields.”

  The torch lands into the oil and an ocean of flames is created. It rapidly consumes the weeping machines as Cenvin falls into his portal. He rapidly travels across the complex and out of the Skytower, creating an average of four portals per second, and pushing his ability to the limit. He finally collapses in the middle of a small street, his stamina drained and his muscles cramping with fatigue. He groans and struggles to stand up, his head a bit light.

  “You! Curfew, get inside!”

  He turns to see two Orions standing several meters away from him, their swords out and eager to strike.

  “Every civilian- YOU!”

  An Orion shouts as he recognizes Cenvin’s face, swinging his sword and striking Cenvin to the ground. The other Orion stands in confusion, but upon close inspection, he also seems to remember his appearance.

  “Cenvin the Dishonest. The punk who attacked Headquarters. Ohoho… how lucky, for me and how unfortunate for you.”

  “I’m going to avenge my friend!”

  Before executing him, the Orions stop as they and Cenvin receive an urgent message on their sending stones. They grab their sending stones and stare at it. A message floats in Cenvin’s head:

  Gather at Citadel; code Force Majeure.

  The Orions steal a final glance at Cenvin, and they rush off to the center of Italica City, leaving Cenvin behind. He lies on the ground, gracefully descending into a soothing coma.

  A spectral descends from the sky, after watching its target lying still for a few minutes. It needs to get it before others can, and now that it is sure the prey is dead it can finally feed. It scrapes up the limp body of what seems to be a dishonest thief(determined through its telltale aura) and flies up. The thief is pure. It is Gifted. It will make a filling meal.

  A glowing missile strikes the spectral squarely in the torso. It drops the prey and flies away, its alarm sounding. That is a Lumi, the apex predator of the Otherworld, the image of death, the unkillable demon, incarnations of Darkness-

  Nyri sighed as she gently carried Cenvin back onto the ground. She strolled around him impatiently. She could simply wake him up, but after sending that one orb to update Sinner she can’t reach the desired size anymore. She had recalled some orbs; just enough to make do, but her size is twice as small as what she was at the start. She sniffs and glares at the skies. Hadke formed an enormous L. Taunting her, probably. She meekly grins at him and he quickly flies away, losing shape in the night sky.