The morning that opened the public accusation against Mael arrived heavy — low clouds and torn posters. The Tribunal organized the final presentation: intercepted documents, intermediary vaults and the tablet with transfer records would be shown to the Council and the people. Renna agreed to a calculated exposure: evidence, charts, witnesses; everything ritualized and redundant so the official narrative couldn't be easily undone.
The hall was packed. Scribes unrolled the parchments, Lio projected each transfer as a micro-hologram, and Garris, his voice still trembling, confirmed the chains of orders coming from the counselor's administrative wing. Kaito felt the weight of the room — every gaze a medal being turned: merchants, minor nobles, guild reps and city delegates.
The HUD blinked with instructions:
PUBLIC_EXPOSURE: MAEL -> PRESENT_EVIDENCE (GARRIS / MESSENGER / LEDGERS)
OBJECTIVE: DELEGITIMIZE_MAEL / TRIGGER_TRIBUNAL_ACTION
RISK: VELARN_PROPAGANDA_COUNTER / UNDERGROUND_RETALIATION
RECOMMEND: SECURE_ESCROW_ACCOUNTS / DEPLOY_MERCHANT_ALLIANCES
The presentation was flawless. Mael’s face kept its silk mask until Lio displayed the sealed order with the black seal: Priority Service – Executor: Fists. The counselor’s color drained. Shouts, accusations, papers thrown — the city woke in shock. The Tribunal pronounced caution but authorized immediate measures: freeze accounts, search private vaults, and summon witnesses.
But politics is old and low. While most waited for the counselor’s fall, Mael activated plan B: an emergency decree declaring the investigation a threat to security, asking for time to review and summoning merchant levies to “restore order.” The maneuver cracked things open: some merchants, with profit dripping from contracts, hesitated; others, tired of risk, began aligning with the Station. Renna worked quick diplomacy: trade guarantees, insurance, war contracts to pull merchant houses to block payment routes.
For three frantic days, “vault-breach” missions ran: discreet teams broke into safes, planted bugs, cut runic locks. Kaito led a team that entered Halvor’s bank at night — not to loot, but to plant evidence linking accounts to the black seal and cut payment routes. The operation demanded absolute silence.
Environment: subterranean galleries, damp stone corridors, gears turning heavy doors. The air smelled of oil and metal. Kaito moved with Lyra, Lio and two Hammer artificers. HUD flagged:
STEALTH_REQUIRED / TRAP_RUNE = HIGH.
When they unsealed the first lock, a series of levers tried to slam a stone door: a mechanical trap woven with runes. Kaito used Net Hands silently — implanting a micro-Amber without detonating it: the left hand held the device while the right hand sliced the cords that would trigger the sequence. The sound was a muffled avalanche: wood cracking, gears groaning. The weight of metal sounded in their bones.
In the vault, files: sealed papers, account books, recording stones. Lio hooked a receiver and downloaded logs. The evidence appeared: transfers, dates, a partial name tying Mael to an offshore agent. When Lio attempted to copy, a subtle alarm — a streak of light — snapped on the ceiling. Someone tried to cloud the vault with a slow gas. Kaito ordered extraction, but the door that had closed behind them trapped two artificers; getting out cost pikes and brute force. The strain tore skin from hands — the sound like rope breaking.
They left with enough evidence. Above ground, Renna was already negotiating with merchant houses: promises, guarantees, ships placed under fiscal blockade. The noose tightened. Mael, cornered, felt the net begin to singe.
But the fire that lit the night brought other laments: a child in the streets pointed to a black symbol daubed on a wall — The Plague — and payment routes trembled. Baran and The Plague knew the line sustaining the contract was being cut. Somewhere, the Fists would respond. Kaito tasted metal in his mouth: the war was about to accelerate.
Alliances and the Dance of Blades
With the accounts partially frozen, Renna organized a coalition: two independent merchant houses pledged to cut routes to Velarn and any suspicious escrow, in exchange for privileges and protections. The political move made the contract hard to honor — payments stalled, exchanges jammed. Mael reacted in desperation: he ordered contract-hunters and sent agents to hire replacements.
Kaito knew the next step would be fatal: cut The Plague at its points of spread — the nurseries where the guild enrolled merchants, suppliers, and forgers. The plan: a coordinated strike, simultaneous at three nodes — Halvor (finance), Varun (logistics) and an inland village (ampoule factory). The coalition would supply ships, merchants and men. It would be both political and military.
HUD:
OPERATION: TRIPLE_STRIKE -> HALVOR / VARUN / INTERIOR_FAB
OBJECTIVE: DISRUPT_PAYMENT_CHAINS / SEIZE_LOGS / CAPTURE_OPERATIVES
ASSETS: MERCHANT_COALITION + MARTELLO_FORCES + STATION_UNITS
RISK: BARAN_RESPONSE / PRAGA_EMBEDDED_IN_MARKETS
The operation began at dawn. Kaito led the Varun strike, where narrow streets and warehouses would host urban combat. They advanced in three synchronized columns timed by Lio. Tactical objective: disable goods and seize records with minimal civilian harm.
Environment: a maze of docks, blackened piers, water-slick beams. The air smelled of fish, oil and mud. Irregular planks groaned. Cold wind bit.
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Breaking the warehouse door Kaito met thugs with hooks and blade-tipped nets; the place had gaps and raised platforms. A hook hoisted them upward and a man tried to slice the decking to make them fall. Kaito used Chain of Bones — Fortnight Leap: a jump that coupled momentum and blade spin to sever the hook ropes — the impact made the beam groan and a pile of sacks collapse on two opponents, crushing them. The sound was metallic and slow: bodies deforming, sacks tearing.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
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The Plague countered with rune-equipped puppets: wooden dolls that detonated in sparks when cut. Kaito couldn’t simply cleave; he needed neutralization. He ordered improvisation: Lyra launched wooden shields that absorbed blasts; Nara fired resin arrows that jammed mechanisms. Each puppet was disarmed carefully, as if performing a choreography of lethal handicraft. The physical toll showed — lifting, prying, bracing — fatigue stacked.
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A lieutenant of The Plague, Vorat, the Hollow Blade, descended from the mezzanine: a tall fighter with knives that seemed to have a will — they sliced light. The duel with him became a five-wave epic: Kaito attacked with Spiral Sever; Vorat answered with Concave Hinge — strikes designed to unbalance and use beams for ricochet attacks. With each blow the timbers groaned; at the third rotation a support cracked and a wooden bridge fell, dragging bodies and breaking pillars. Kaito landed on a knee — sharp pain — but fury rose.
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In the decisive moment Kaito executed Chain of Bones — Varun Lock: a cut that took joints and an improvised lever that hurled Vorat into a salt barrel that exploded into powder. Dust blanketed the scene; when the wind cleared Vorat lay still. The final impact felt like thunder in the chest — the reader should feel the executioner collapse.
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Warehouses were set afire by timed sabotage, but the records — the real objective — were recovered. In the vaults The Plague had left a trail: transfers to phantom lines — accounts ending at a diplomatic address protected by immunity. The remaining knot was political and heavy: whoever used diplomatic channels probably held a piece of the throne.
HUD summarized the strike:
RESULT_VARUN: SUCCESS (LOGS_SEIZED / LIEUTENANT_NEUTRALIZED)
COST: INFRASTRUCTURE_DAMAGE HIGH | CIVILIAN_DISPLACED COUNT = 124
INTEL: TRANSFER_LINES -> DIPLOMATIC_IMMUNITY_NODE (FOLLOW_UP: DIPLOMACY)
KAITO_STATE: HP 16% | LEFT_ARM_CRITIC | STAMINA 6%
The coalition celebrated briefly, but the joy was short: intelligence showed some funds passing through diplomatic channels — invisible to ordinary law. Breaking the contract would require a high-risk political act: challenge immunities and risk diplomatic war. Mael drew breath — the rope binding him was tightening, and someone up there might feel the pull. Baran would watch; and whoever hired the Fists could strike back more violently.
The accumulated evidence forced a final battle of narratives. Renna, backed by merchant houses, issued an ultimatum: Mael would be tried and — if guilty — funding suspended, including immunities. Simultaneously, a diplomatic delegation would open processes to lift protections in certain jurisdictions — a move as risky as it was necessary.
But the visceral preparation was what mattered: an ambush for The Plague that, if Baran or his intermediaries reacted, would turn into open battle. Kaito and the coalition built the Gate of Judgment: a defensive ring around The Plague’s main HQ — a wall of men, Amber and Antigens, with artificers ready to detonate micro-nets to isolate entire maps.
HUD, threshold:
OP: PORTAO_DO_JUIZO -> ENCIRCLING_STRIKE ON PRAGA_HQ
OBJECTIVE: CAPTURE_LEADERS / SEIZE_CONTRACTS / NEUTRALIZE_EXECUTORS
ASSETS: COALITION_FORCES + MARTELLO + MEDICAL / RISK: BARAN_DIRECT / DIPLOMATIC_BACKLASH
The night of the operation was thick: fog, church bells, burning beams. The Plague reacted. They did not expect a hand taken without fight. Baran didn’t show immediately — but his pawns struck with fury and craft. The Gate became a furnace.
Environment: open ground near ruins, tents, blazing torches. The earth vibrated; the air smelled of iron and sulfur. The reader must feel every step, every hammer blow, every stretched leather.
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Initial waves were shock lines: shields, spears, trained men. Kaito coordinated: Net Hands planted Ambers in formations to create “silence pockets” — zones where The Plague couldn’t activate hourglasses. When the first puppet waves came, the pockets detonated in sync: sparks, shards, runes shorted. The impact rolled like thunder.
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Vorat and sub-leaders fell; but assault waves brought a familiar silhouette: an envoy of Baran — black-gloved and brutal — advanced like a locomotive. He touched three coalition fighters; damage rebounded and killed two men and maimed others. Kaito saw the efficiency and the horror — if Baran came, the field would transform.
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As dust rose on the horizon, a cry split the air. Baran appeared on the ridge: short steps, fists curled, gaze like cold steel. The field trembled. He did not begin by smashing the main line; instead he went for command chains, touching officers and spreading redistribution — chaos where there had been order. Kaito, without Administrator, chose to lock the field: artificers fired anchor traps — heavy rune nets that didn't wound but blocked magical touch for seconds.
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Kaito didn't try to go at Baran directly; he engaged one of his champions, Razan, Baran’s shield-bearer. Razan was agile, strong and inked with tattoos that flared with each breath. The fight between Kaito and Razan stretched minutes: dodges, blows that made the air in the reader’s chest hum, using burning beams as levers, cuts that splintered boards and metal. When Razan struck a blow that would have cracked Kaito’s neck, Nara leapt in, a thread of blood across her arm — she diverted the strike and opened a window for Kaito to execute Spiral Sever — Anchoring Execution, a whirl that hurled Razan into a rune trap that detonated and pinned him.
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With the Plague’s command chain neutralized and documents seized, Lio and the artificers synced their work to sever the final transfers: a network of micro-relays was placed in vaults and, when triggered, burned the seals and voided the accounts. Renna’s political push was immediate: merchant ships blocked routes, and the diplomatic court suspended immunities. The contract that empowered Baran was technically dissolved — the financial knot cut.
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Baran was not captured. When he realized the payment was evaporating he slipped away, emerging and vanishing like a storm. The Gate had torn the core of The Plague for a night, but exacted a toll: many wounded, bodies strewn, and Kaito barely standing. HUD at the end read:
BATTLE_RESULT: PORTAO_DO_JUIZO -> SUCCESS (PRAGA_CORE_DISRUPTED)
COST: COALITION_LOSSES HIGH | INFRASTRUCTURE_DAMAGED | CIVILIAN_COSTS MEDIUM
STRATEGIC: ESCROW_ACCOUNTS_DISABLED (MAJOR) | BARAN_STATUS = RETREATED
KAITO_STATE: HP 3% | LEFT_ARM: AMPUTATION_RISK (IMMEDIATE_MEDICAL) | CORE_FRAGMENTATION = CRITICAL
Kaito collapsed among the wounded and the cries. Nara was there, covered in blood and soot, holding his hand. He tried to smile — it came out as a grimace. The enemy’s vault had been opened, contracts burned, and the Fists — for the moment — had been beaten by cutting the machine that fed them. But the victory cost dearly: Kaito’s identity teetered at the edge, the Administrator was gone and he knew pieces of himself were lost forever.
On the makeshift bed before the stretcher, Kaito whispered to Nara: “If I fade, tell the stories. Tell them who we were.” She squeezed his hand, voice steady: “I will tell them. And I will bring you back, piece by piece.” He laughed, a pained sound. “Promise?” “I promise,” she said. The HUD dimmed with a final line:
MAIN_QUEST_UPDATE: PRAGA_CORE_DISRUPTED -> NEXT: REBUILD_SOCIAL_TRUST / PURSUE_REMAINING_REAPERS
KAITO_STATE: MEDICAL_CRITICAL -> LONG_TERM_RECOVERY / IDENTITY_RISK = PERMANENT
The war had won a decisive round: the contract was broken, Mael isolated, accounts frozen. Baran fled but was not destroyed. The Plague weakened — but roots in the throne and fear remained. Kaito had paid dearly; what remained of the programmer must now learn to live with scars that a generation would remember.