Chaosbound: Elarith Chronicles

The Vengeance Trail

Ron idly spun the sigil-card, the sun wreathed in shadows staring back at him like a silent challenge. Its stark simplicity, its quiet defiance, captivated him. Behind him, Faelyn knelt, her expression impassive, as she examined Rupert's lifeless body—a clean, surgical slice across the neck.

"He's definitely gone," Faelyn stated, rising and brushing dust from her dark robes. "Whoever did this wasn't sending a warning. This was… final."

Nearby, Markus leaned against the crumbling wall, arms crossed, a theatrical sigh escaping him. "And all those shiny documents—poof, gone. Great job keeping track of things, Ron," he quipped, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Ron chuckled, unfazed. "I expected as much. Lucky for us, I'm no amateur." He pocketed the card, folding his arms confidently. "I have duplicate copies of every single one. I've already arranged the channels and coordinated with the authorities." He offered Markus a sly grin. "You're welcome."

Markus rolled his eyes, muttering something about "control freaks in fancy coats."

Faelyn stepped closer, tilting her head. "So, the trail's cold, then? Or do you have some grand revelation you're holding onto?" Her voice was sharp, skeptical as always.

Ron's eyes lit up, his grin widening just enough to make Markus groan inwardly. Here we go, Markus thought, rubbing the bridge of his nose. That look. That detective look. Ron's got his case face on again. I've seen this a hundred times, and it always ends the same: us running straight into danger.

Oblivious to Markus's silent lament, Ron pulled out the sigil-card and held it aloft. "Faelyn, my dear," he began, his tone playful yet sinister, "the documents aren't the loss here. What we've gained far outweighs them." He held the card higher. "We've learned who's been weaving through the shadows, disrupting not just Rupert, but us. This disruption? Unforgivable."

Ron let the weight of his words linger as Faelyn raised an eyebrow, waiting. It was Markus who cut to the chase. "So… what now? What's the grand plan?"

For a moment, Ron didn't answer. He stared down at the card, the shadowed sun glinting faintly. When he spoke, his voice was low, measured, almost poetic.

"What now?" Ron repeated, his grin sharpening into something wicked. "Now, we hunt. Because in these shadows lies a ghost. A ghost they call Vengeance."

His voice grew lighter, tinged with delight. "A phantom who moves like the wind, unseen and untouchable. Oh, but phantoms leave trails, my friends. And this one…" He held the card up again, the sigil catching the light. "…this one is a sun wrapped in shadow. A contradiction. A challenge."

Markus sighed inwardly, feeling the weight of inevitability. Ron's already chasing it. This case is his obsession now.

Ron ignored everything, lost in his excitement. "Danger, Markus? No, this isn't danger. This is a game. And games, my dear friends, are meant to be played." He laughed softly, almost maniacally, before whispering as if to himself, "Vengeance… let's see if you can outrun the light."

The Hunt Begins

Ron and his team meticulously mapped out Rupert's network based on the stolen documents. Each channel and location was marked, the map spread across the dim, wooden table of the inn. With an air of determination, Ron assigned Faelyn and Markus to visit the mapped places in pairs while he investigated independently, knowing their ragged, criminal facades blended effortlessly into Fallenleaf's chaotic streets.

The team regrouped later to reconcile and share their findings. Faelyn, her tone sharp and efficient, reported first: "One of the places is gone—destroyed completely. Three others? They'd already been reduced to rubble, days before we even stepped foot in them."

Markus nodded, his expression grim. "Same here. The warehouses and hideouts I checked were either wiped out entirely or in ruins before I arrived."

Ron's report was no different. Every location targeted seemed to share a single trait, a chilling hallmark that couldn't be ignored. "Every place," he said, gesturing at the map, "had the same calling card. The sigil of the sun wreathed in shadows. Vengeance has already left his mark."

Ron smirked, the weight of realization sinking in. "I've underestimated this guy. He's already ahead of us, and—whether he intended to or not—we've actually helped him along the way."

Ron's Revelation

Ron's expression shifted as he entered his characteristic trance, murmuring fragmented thoughts as he paced back and forth. His hands gestured randomly, his mind chasing possibilities as if solving a puzzle no one else could see. Faelyn crossed her arms, watching him with slight amusement, while Markus leaned against a wall, sighing quietly. He knew this behavior—the "Ron look" was unmistakable.

Suddenly, Ron stopped pacing, his eyes wide with realization. He spun on his heel and faced the group, his voice clear and resolute. "Alright, listen up."

The team straightened, giving him their full attention.

"Based on Vengeance's activity pattern—the time intervals, his methods, even witness statements about the cold air and darkness surrounding every hit—I can say with certainty: he's not acting in groups. He's operating alone." Ron pointed to the map. "This isn't an organization. This is one person with terrifying precision."

Faelyn arched an eyebrow, intrigued. Markus frowned, his skepticism apparent. "Alone?" he asked.

"Exactly," Ron said, his grin widening. "Look at this—he's destroyed every channel Rupert ran. Took out every major route. Even killed Rupert's clientele! His mission is clear. He's dismantling every thread tied to Rupert, to make sure no piece of that web survives. That's a crusade if I've ever seen one. This guy? He's doing it for justice. His methods are twisted, yes, but his purpose… well, it's noble in its own way."

Ron held the map higher, revealing three remaining locations. "Look here," he said. "These are the last three places 'Vengeance' hasn't hit yet. The time between his attacks suggests that one of these spots is his next target. If we move fast, we can follow his trail."

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The First Target: Too Late

The team split again, rushing to the first location. Ron pushed through the crowd, Faelyn and Markus close behind, their tension rising with every step. When they arrived, the scene was exactly what they feared: the hideout was in ruins, smoke curling into the air, the stench of destruction overwhelming.

Ron walked ahead, spotting the familiar card resting neatly on a burnt table. He picked it up, the sigil of the sun wreathed in shadows staring back at them. "He really acts fast," Ron muttered, irritation creeping into his tone. "We have to move."

The Second Target: Another Sigil

Hurrying to the next location, the team found the aftermath of another hit. The hideout was eerily quiet, but signs of violence were etched into the walls. Faelyn picked up another card, handing it to Ron without a word. This time, something new was scrawled across the back.

"Catch me if you can," Ron read aloud, his smirk returning. He flipped the card between his fingers, shaking his head. "Well, isn't this cute? This message… it's for us. He knows we're following him."

Markus frowned, leaning closer. "So he's taunting us?"

"Taunting? No," Ron said, his grin widening. "It's a challenge. And I intend to meet him face to face."

The Last Target: The Final Chance

Ron and the team regrouped, tension running high. He slammed the map onto the table, pointing at the last remaining location. "This is it," he said. "Our final chance. This is the last clue we have, and once it's gone, so is our trail. Vengeance may hold more knowledge—more pieces of the puzzle. If we can find him, if we can speak to him, he might have the answers we need."

The group exchanged determined glances, knowing that this chase had reached its tipping point. For Ron, this was no longer about tracking a target or even stopping Vengeance—this was about uncovering the truth. The shadowy ties between the Luminaries and the Shadow Order were now closer than ever, and meeting the man behind the sigil was the next step. The hunt would end here, and the answers would begin.

The Last Location: Meeting Vengeance

The air inside the abandoned building was heavy with silence, every step echoing faintly through its desolate halls. Ron and his team moved cautiously, the faint creak of worn floorboards beneath their boots the only sound accompanying them. Faelyn broke the quiet as they reached the center of the ground floor. "Good. At least it's not yet destroyed," she said, her voice tinged with relief. "I guess we're ahead of Vengeance this time."

But Ron's expression told a different story. His sharp eyes scanned the corners, catching every detail. "No," he said quietly, his tone laced with certainty. "He's here."

At that moment, Markus noticed something resting on a dusty table—a card bearing the familiar sigil of the sun wreathed in shadows. He handed it to Ron, whose grin widened as he examined it. "Definitely here," Ron muttered, a glimmer of excitement flashing in his gaze.

There were no dead bodies, no signs of violence—not yet. The group pressed on, ascending the creaking staircase to the next floor. Another card lay waiting, set deliberately on the banister. Ron laughed softly as he picked it up. "This guy wants to lead us with this trail," he said, his voice brimming with anticipation. "And we'll obediently follow." His excitement was palpable, infectious—a hunter who had just caught scent of his prey.

The Top Floor: A Scenic Revelation

They climbed higher, the staircase narrowing until they reached the top floor, an open space bathed in dim light. The view stretched far beyond the walls of the building, revealing the sprawling chaos of Fallenleaf in its raw glory. A figure sat on the ledge, his silhouette framed against the cityscape. The man's posture was calm, his movements deliberate as he spoke, his voice carrying through the air.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he said, gesturing to the labyrinth below. "Fallenleaf—where the streets weave a tapestry of shadows. A haven for those who thrive on misdeeds, a sanctuary for the broken. A city cloaked in grime and sin… yet somehow, it remains breathtaking. A den of beasts disguised as beauty."

Ron stepped forward slightly, his head tilted as if captivated by the poetry. After a moment, he added his own, his voice smooth and tinged with theatrical flair. "And yet… the city is haunted by Vengeance. Shadows that stalk its alleys, whispers of fear that cling to every breath. A place where even the beasts cower beneath the weight of reckoning."

The man turned his head slightly, the edge of a grin visible from the shadows. With a casual gesture, he pointed to a crate resting just to his left. "What you're looking for… the black stuff. It's there," he said simply. "And documents trailing its ties to the Dark Order, Malrick, and even the Luminaries—you'll find them, too."

Ron stiffened slightly, taken off guard by the revelation. He hadn't expected this chase to lead to the very answers they sought. Faelyn moved to check the crate, her movements cautious, while Markus lingered, his eyes fixed on the man.

A Dramatic Entrance

The figure stood, his silhouette shifting as he rose from the ledge. Slowly, he stepped away from the edge and moved toward the group. His face remained shrouded in shadow until he reached the light streaming through the broken windows. He paused for a moment, allowing his features to emerge gradually—a striking mix of resolve and weariness, his eyes sharp and unwavering.

"Pleasure meeting you, Ron Rugal," he said smoothly, his voice carrying a quiet confidence. His gaze flicked briefly to the others, his tone turning playful. "And greetings to your dynamic duo, your merry band of misfits."

Ron narrowed his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Elyrion Grimmer," the man continued, his name spoken clearly, powerfully, as if it alone carried the weight of his presence. "I am the one who has haunted these streets, the vengeance that has stalked your hunt. And now, here we are."

The Legacy Unveiled

Ron stepped closer, the card still tucked between his fingers as his sharp gaze locked on Elyrion. A slow smirk curved across his face, the thrill of discovery lighting up his expression. "Ah, Elyrion Grimmer," he began, his tone equal parts admiration and intrigue. "I know your story—or at least the fragments that remain etched in history. Thadeus Eldon of Shellcrest… What a tragic tale."

Ron paused, letting the weight of his words settle as he paced forward, his voice softening into something more reflective. "A fortress, once a beacon of resilience. The Shellcrest stronghold, ruled by Thadeus, a leader who inspired his people and stood tall against adversity. But then… the Luminaries came, sweeping through like the winds of ruin. I read the story in the Rugal Familia archives, buried in a section of forgotten lore. The raid that reduced Shellcrest to rubble, the massacre of innocents…" His voice dipped lower. "And Dyann. Dyann—your mother—slain amidst the chaos. No leader, no fortress, no family. All gone in the blink of an eye."

Elyrion's face remained unreadable as Ron continued, the cadence of his speech growing heavier with meaning. "But there was a survivor, wasn't there? A boy left to claw his way out of destruction. A shadow cast from the legacy of Thadeus the Great. And that boy… was you." Ron stopped, turning his full attention to Elyrion. "Grimmer. So you took that name, huh? I guess that's fitting. A thread to your past, yet a mark of the Eclipseborn tribe you seem to belong to now."

The Praise of Vengeance

Ron's smirk returned as he tilted his head, openly appraising Elyrion with something close to admiration. "I'll admit, I underestimated you, Elyrion. Shadow magic, wielded so effortlessly—impressive. Your precision in dismantling Rupert's channels, your ability to stay ahead of us in this 'catch-me-if-you-can' game." He laughed softly, shaking his head. "You've truly lived up to the legacy of Thadeus the Great. A vengeance incarnate. And I'll even admit—you've got style."

Faelyn and Markus watched silently, exchanging curious glances as Ron's tone shifted to something almost delighted. He stepped closer, his grin widening. "I suppose you wanted to meet me too, didn't you?" His voice carried an edge of excitement, like a detective unraveling the final thread of a mystery. "I'd say this situation is working out quite nicely, wouldn't you?"

Elyrion's expression shifted slightly, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. The tension in the air hung delicately between them, the meeting of minds setting the stage for what would come next.