The cold night air bit at Char's skin as he and the girls sprinted through the misty streets of Oryn-Vel, the rhythmic pounding of their boots against the stone echoing in the silence. The city was still alive with celebrations, the distant sound of laughter and music from the upcoming Festival of the New Year contrasting starkly with the tension thrumming through Char's body.
They moved swiftly, ducking through alleys and side streets, keeping to the shadows. Char's mind raced, trying to piece together everything they had learned from Davin's interrogation.
"Okay, let's go over this again," he said, slightly out of breath. "Davin wasn't just some ex-member hanging around—he was still Syndicate."
Elyan, running beside him, nodded grimly. "Which means Rook knew exactly what he was doing when he gave us his name."
Char cursed under his breath. "Of course he did. He fed Ishmael just enough truth to make us believe it, but it was bait."
Renna scoffed from his other side. "Typical Rook. A bastard, but a smart one."
Char grit his teeth. The way Rook played them irritated him to no end. They had assumed they were ahead of the game, but they had been manipulated from the start.
And yet, what bothered him more than Rook's deception was the location of the Syndicate's base.
"Why Keep Valcian again?" he muttered, more to himself than anyone. "The Syndicate got destroyed there. I don't get why they'd set up in the same place."
Elyan gave him a sharp glance. "Maybe because no one would expect them to go back?"
"Or," Renna suggested, "because they never truly left."
Char inhaled deeply, his hands clenching at his sides as they turned another corner. That was a disturbing thought. If they had never left, then it meant that even after their supposed downfall, they had still been rebuilding in the shadows.
Then there were the Holy Knights.
Just hearing those words made Char's stomach churn.
He'd written about them. He knew exactly what they were capable of.
The Holy Knights were enforcers of the Royal Church, the highest authority in the north, far beyond Oryn-Vel. They were supposed to be unwavering pillars of justice—paladins clad in black and silver, wielding enchanted blades, fighting against corruption and chaos.
But Alden and Zefaria had abandoned that cause.
Why?
What would drive two highly ranked knights to defect to the Syndicate, an organization known for its underhanded tactics and criminal dealings?
What happened up north?
"We need to tell the others about this," Elyan said as they approached the Sharpies' safehouse. "If the Syndicate is back in full force and they have Holy Knights on their side, this is worse than we thought."
Char nodded. "And we still don't know who else they've recruited. If they managed to get exiled knights, there's no telling what other dangerous people they've brought in."
Renna sighed dramatically. "I hate this job sometimes."
Char almost snorted. "Tell me about it."
They reached the safehouse, slipping through the side entrance into the dimly lit interior. The place smelled faintly of old wood and burning candle wax.
Ishmael, Marin, Callen, and Tess were already inside, gathered around the table with maps and documents sprawled across it. They looked up as Char, Elyan, and Renna entered, their expressions shifting from exhaustion to sharp attentiveness.
Ishmael was the first to speak. "Well?"
Char exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Bad news."
Tess groaned. "Of course it's bad news."
Elyan strode forward and leaned against the table, crossing her arms. "Davin was still a full Syndicate member, not just some loose end. Meaning Rook played us. He wanted us to find Davin, and Davin knew we were coming."
Marin's expression darkened. "That damn snake."
Callen frowned. "Then why let us capture Davin at all? If it was a trap, wouldn't he have set up something more dangerous?"
Char shook his head. "I don't think he wanted us dead. Just… to know that we're still far beneath him."
Ishmael clenched his jaw. "Sounds like Rook, alright."
"But that's not the worst part," Renna said, hopping onto the edge of the table. "We know where the Syndicate's set up again."
Marin stiffened. "Where?"
Char hesitated before saying, "Keep Valcian."
Silence fell over the room.
Ishmael cursed under his breath.
Tess ran a hand through her hair, clearly frustrated. "Why would they go back?"
"No idea," Elyan admitted. "But it gets worse. They're not just rebuilding with their usual mercs and assassins."
Char inhaled sharply. "They have Holy Knights working with them."
That got a reaction.
Marin's brows shot up. Callen straightened, eyes wide. Ishmael's grip on the table tightened.
Tess, however, let out a hollow laugh. "No. No way."
"I wish I was joking," Char muttered.
Elyan continued. "Two of them. Sir Alden and Lady Zefaria. Ex-Royal Church enforcers."
Marin's face was unreadable. "The Royal Church doesn't lose knights. They don't defect."
"Well," Renna said, swinging her legs, "they do now."
Tess leaned forward, gripping the table. "So what does this mean? That the Church is corrupt? That the Syndicate has somehow gained enough influence to turn them?"
Char exhaled slowly. "It means we're dealing with something way bigger than just a gang trying to make a comeback."
The Syndicate alone had been dangerous enough before. Now, with rogue Holy Knights, their power had increased exponentially.
"We need to act fast," Elyan said. "Before they get too strong to stop."
Ishmael nodded. "Agreed. We need more information, and we need a plan."
Callen scratched his chin. "So, what do we do?"
Char took a deep breath, considering. They had gathered vital information, but now came the hard part—deciding what to do with it.
They could try to infiltrate Keep Valcian, but that would be suicidal without a proper plan. They could try to track down more Syndicate members, but that was risky.
"We need to decide our next move carefully," he said. "If we rush in without thinking, we'll end up dead."
Tess sighed. "You're no fun."
Char shot her a look. "You want to die?"
"Depends on the day."
Marin rubbed her temples. "Focus."
Ishmael drummed his fingers on the table. "Maybe we can use this information against the Syndicate. If we can leak it, turn public opinion against them before they fully rise—"
"—We might force them to act rashly," Elyan finished, nodding. "It's risky, but it could work."
Renna grinned. "I do love making people panic."
Char exhaled. The weight of responsibility pressed heavily on his shoulders, but he knew they didn't have the luxury of hesitation.
"Then let's get to work," he said.
Because if they didn't act now, Oryn-Vel wouldn't survive what came next.
*
The night air was crisp as Char stood in the courtyard behind the safehouse, his breath fogging in front of him. The city beyond was alive with celebration, the pre-Festival parties growing rowdier by the day, but here, in the shadows, was where the real work was being done. He rolled his shoulders, shaking out the tension, and called upon his power.
Author's Note.
A flickering crimson aura surged around him, twisting like fire and light, shifting in intensity as his thoughts willed it. He was slowly turning Benjamin's power, Crimson Armor, into his own. There wasn't a day he didn't miss the grumpy man, so he was glad he at least had one piece of him left. It was a power unlike any other—intangible and frustratingly complex. He was learning, piece by piece, but the deeper he delved into it, the more he realized how little he understood.
And he wasn't the only one who needed to grow stronger.
The Syndicate was rebuilding. Again. After everything—after Edmund Ardent, after Lucien, after the devastation unleash upon them—those bastards still weren't done. Varrel had new plans. They had Holy Knights.They were returning to Keep Valcian. And worst of all, Rook had played them.
He grit his teeth, his mind flashing back to Ishmael's report—how Rook had given them information just to set them up, how Davin had been waiting for them with his Helios ability, nearly blinding them with blasts of searing light. They'd won in the end, but barely. And that was only one Syndicate member.
They couldn't afford to be weak.
Char clenched his fists, letting Author's Note fizzle out as he turned on his heel.
They needed more power.
*
It didn't take long to gather them. Marin, Ishmael, and Tess stood before him, eyeing the three Ascension Stones he held in his palm. The smooth, glowing artifacts pulsed faintly with raw, untapped power.
"You want us to use these?" Marin asked, skepticism clear in her tone.
Char nodded. "You saw what happened with Callen. His Afterimage ability makes him almost untouchable now. We need to level the playing field."
Ishmael, ever the stoic one, reached for a stone without hesitation. "Fine. Let's see what happens."
Char tossed it to him. As soon as Ishmael caught it, the air around him rippled. His body exploded in light and he screamed as his cultivated the power of the stone. Darkness crept at his fingertips, tendrils of shadow coiling up his arms like living ink. His breath hitched. His pupils dilated. And then—
A deep, unnatural slash split the air.
Ishmael staggered but didn't fall. His hands trembled as he lifted them, staring as the shadows around him sharpened, forming jagged, wispy blades at his fingertips.
"…Huh," he muttered, flexing his fingers.
Char exhaled. "Darkness Cut. You can infuse your attacks—sword or fist—with dark energy. It cuts deeper, moves faster, and lingers longer than normal."
Ishmael tested it, swinging his arm. The air itself cracked, as if slashed by an invisible blade.
His grin was sharp. "Yeah. I like this."
Marin stepped forward, rolling her shoulders. "Alright. My turn."
She caught the second stone as Char tossed it to her. Her body became a ball of fireworks as her mana nodes unleashed. The effect was instant—her body locked up, her muscles tensing as a dull, metallic sheen spread from her hands up to her shoulders. The ground beneath her cracked under the sudden weight shift.
Then—
CRACK.
Her right hand turned to solid iron.
Marin's breath was heavy, but her eyes gleamed. Without hesitation, she pulled back her arm and slammed her iron-coated fist into the stone wall beside her.
The entire wall shook.
Char grinned. "Iron Reinforcement. You can turn your fists—or anything you're holding—into iron. More power. More durability."
Marin inspected her hand as the iron shimmered and faded back into flesh. "I can work with this."
Char turned to Tess, holding up the last stone. "And you?"
Tess sighed, looking almost bored. "If this one makes me explode, I'm haunting you."
She took the stone.
Light burst from her body.
Her pupils dilated unnaturally. Her irises shifted, turning from sharp blue to a deep, glowing gold. She blinked rapidly, then gasped. "Holy shit."
Char stepped forward. "What?"
"I can see everything."
She snapped her head toward the horizon, eyes widening. "I can see past the city walls. I can see heat signatures. I can see—" Her gaze suddenly landed on Ishmael, turning smug. "—through things."
Ishmael immediately crossed his arms over his chest. "Stop that."
Tess cackled. "No promises."
Marin huffed. "This is the worst possible ability for her to have."
Char groaned. "It's Cat's Eye. X-ray vision, infrared, ultraviolet, telescopic—you name it. You'll never get snuck up on again."
Tess flicked a finger at the air. "And I'll never miss anything interesting."
Char ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. It had worked. Just like it had for Callen. Just like it had for Mira and Merrick.
He looked at the three of them, each now crackling with newfound power. Ishmael's hands twitched with dark energy, Marin flexed her fingers as the iron faded in and out, and Tess… Tess was smirking like she was about to abuse her power in every way possible.
Char exhaled. "Alright." His gaze hardened. "We're ready."
The Syndicate wouldn't know what hit them