NOVEL NEXT Chapter 388: Three Names
Deep in the layers of Carthage, footsteps echoed through the air as the two mercenaries entered the large hall.
The light of the hall bathed their faces as they walked down the walkway, before stopping before the elevated platform that stood on one end of the hall.
They sank to their knees, head bowed.
The entire hall was quiet, save for the low hum of energy buzzing from the silver flame that hovered above the center of the round table that stood on the platform.
The longer the mercenaries waited in silence, the more the air seemed to crackle.
It was as if the air had been charged with a pressure that seemed to press down heavily upon their spines.
Even the walls of the hall seemed to vibrate along with the tune, listening in to whatever orders might be given to it.
One of the mercenaries lifted his head a fraction, peeking at the embodiment of power that was in the room with them.
The man floated on the elevated platform, his feet not even touching the ground.
He hovered in the air, wearing robes of layered black, the edges faintly glowing with a silver sheen that shifted under the lights of the hall.
A silver mask covered the upper half of his face, revealing only a pair of cold, calculating lips and the sharp line of a clean shaven jaw.
He hovered before the flame, one gloved hand extended toward it, as if feeding from its energy, or fueling it.
Finally, he spoke.
"You planted it?"
The mercenary on the left bowed lower. "Yes, Elder. The Shard has been embedded in the substructure beneath District Eleven. It's... stable. For now."
"And the suppression field?"
The other mercenary answered, voice hoarse. "We triggered it exactly as you ordered. It worked as projected. The silence fell over several blocks. However…" He hesitated.
"However, we nearly lost control of the affected zone. One of our own was intercepted. But we pulled back and spent the following days stabilizing the shard."
The silver masked elder remained quiet for a few seconds, then sighed, turning slightly to face them. "You nearly… lost control?"
"The opponents were... not what we expected."
"Explain."
"Three Knights. They were stronger than we anticipated. One had a power unlike anything we've encountered. The second seemed to have a Divine Gift tied to soul reinforcement."
"The last," the mercenary hesitated, jaw clenching, "had an adaptive Gift. He shrugged off my gravitational influence like it was nothing."
Silence.
And then a single word, cold and flat.
"Names."
The mercenaries shifted uncomfortably. "Terence. Thorn. Lilith."
The elder tilted his head. "I've heard those names before. The newcomers. The ones who publicly passed the recent exam." His voice grew colder. "And they survived the suppression?"
"Barely. They killed one of ours."
The elder turned his back to them, staring into the flickering flame.
"In three days," he murmured, "Carthage will fall into silence."
The mercenaries remained bowed, unmoving.
"In three days," the elder continued, "we will break the grip of those who keep the benefits to themselves."
"Their arrogance will be replaced with quiet. Their schemes will be erased beneath the weight of true power. The Shard of Oblivion will speak for us. The Choir will rise."
He turned again. "And we cannot afford... complications."
He raised his hand, and the doors at the far end of the chamber groaned open.
A figure stepped through, a woman clad in bone-pale armor, her face hidden behind a helm sculpted like a snarling beast. She carried no weapon. She didn't need one.
"My general," the silver-masked elder said, gesturing grandly to the woman, "you know your task."
The woman nodded once.
"Find them. Kill them. Bring me their heads, and whatever secrets they hide."
He began floating upwards, towards the hole in the roof of the hall.
"I cannot allow any loose threads to live."
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Elsewhere, within the more mundane layers of Carthage, the world still turned with ordinary problems.
Ren, Thorn, and Lilith stood outside a stone building standing beside one of the main merchant roads.
The location was perfect.
It was close to storage warehouses and market paths, but just removed enough from foot traffic to afford them quiet. The exterior was simple, but sturdy. What mattered was the potential.
Inside, the negotiations were coming to a close.
"I'll be honest," the merchant across from them was saying, his rotund body nearly spilling out of his seat, "I didn't expect you three to offer full year payment in advance. You're either stupid, or you know something I don't."
"We know plenty," Ren replied with a faint smile, signing the final page of the contract. "We just don't like wasting time."
The merchant snorted, then stamped the parchment with his sigil. "It's yours. Top and bottom floors. You handle your own renovations."
"Already planned," Thorn said, leaning back with a grin. "This place is gonna sing by next week."
Lilith gave a small nod. "We'll make the modifications ourselves. We just need the paperwork cleared."
"Done." The merchant handed them the deed, already marked and sealed.
After shaking hands, they stepped out into the street, the buzz of Carthage's activity filling the air around them.
Ren let out a breath and looked up at the pale sky-stone ceiling above, the white orbs glowing to mimic afternoon light. "Finally."
Thorn gave a whistle, admiring the building again. "Front of house for business, top floor for living. Feels... official."
"It is," Ren said. "We're establishing our roots. From this point forward, we know what we have to do."
Lilith folded the deed and tucked it into her pouch. "We should have the first coin delivery route finalized tonight."
Ren nodded, satisfied. "Good. I'll start looking into getting our first wave of clients tomorrow. By the end of the week, I want at least ten regulars using our teleportation service."
"All work and no play makes Ren a poor boy." Thorn grinned, rubbing his hands. "Guess I better start working on the signage."