The wind howled across the ruins of the tavern.
Ash floated through the air like drifting spirits, the only remnants of the chaos that had just unfolded. Within the rubble, the broken beams, and the blood-soaked ground, Lan stood tall—pale eyes fixed on the kneeling form of Venom.
Mere moments ago, he was a feared tyrant of Ranevia, but he now looked up at Lan through bruised and swollen lids. The light in his eyes flickered, without rage.
Just submission.
Lan sighed.
This was the first step—but only that. The Mad Vipers were one head of a three-headed beast. Two more gangs still ruled their portions of Ranevia like wounds yet to heal—unchecked and unchallenged. If he meant to claim this wasteland, to raise it from rot into reign, they too would have to kneel.
But for now, the Vipers were his. Or so it appeared.
Lan's gaze narrowed.
"I need to be certain your submission is absolute. Without chance of betrayal."
