The real game of Roman Crowell had begun.
His eyes were sharp, fixed on the arcane map hovering in front of him in the Duke's office.
The operation to seize the Ephor Dukedom and annihilate the Rockson household was finally in motion. Every piece had been set; all that was left was a single command.
Mage Tower Master Velkan stood beside him, maintaining a glowing magical screen that showed the live feed from a mage stationed deep inside the Ephor Dukedom. Beside them sat Duke Jacob, silent and wary, and Selena, her gaze fixed on Roman half-worried, half-in awe of how far her little brother had come.
"Everything and everyone is ready, Young Master," Velkan said, his fingers tightening around the staff as streams of mana flickered through the projection.
Duke Jacob's voice was heavy. "Think once again, Roman. This is dangerous. One mistake, and the entire kingdom will be after us."
Roman took a slow breath, his golden and black aura faintly rippling around his body. He looked straight at the map, then said in a low, calm voice that carried command.
"Let the covert operation begin."
The words ignited movement miles away.
Ephor Dukedom Operation 'Specter'
The infiltrators Presia's knights disguised as refugees received the signal.
Jeremiah Nara, the young spatial mage, relayed the activation order through mana-linked runes, his hands glowing with faint blue light. Across the streets of Ephor, scattered in safe houses and taverns, Presia's men nodded to one another.
The operation had begun.
Their first target: Arshan, a so-called merchant whose trade was human trafficking and the illegal sale of magical creatures protected only because of his deep ties with Duke Noah Rockson himself.
A small unit of knights and mages led by Simon, one of Roman's most trusted field captains, moved through the narrow streets under cover of dusk. Their orders were clear:
> Eliminate Arshan.
Retrieve all evidence.
Free the captives.
Leave nothing but ashes.
The Ephor streets were thick with tension.
Simon signaled his men with two fingers—swift and silent. The unit moved through the alleys, blending with the evening crowds. When they reached Arshan's warehouse, two Ephor knights stood guard at the door, bored and unsuspecting.
Steel flashed once.
No screams followed.
Both guards collapsed silently, dragged into the shadows.
Inside the warehouse, muffled cries echoed women, children, and old men chained and gagged in cages.
Simon's expression hardened. This filth ends tonight.
The squad slipped through the back entrance, blades glinting faintly under the lantern light. A brief clash ensued steel on steel, sparks flying but the Presia knights fought like wraiths, silent and efficient. Within moments, every guard was down.
Disguised now in the armor of the fallen Ephor knights, the squad pushed deeper into the merchant's quarters.
Meanwhile, word had reached Arshan that intruders had breached his shop. Panicked, he fled through a hidden passage toward his underground bunker. But before he could reach the stairs, a group of "Ephor knights" intercepted him.
"Lord Arshan," Simon said, lowering his voice to sound formal. "A terrorist group has attacked your shop. We'll escort you to safety."
Arshan, sweating and pale, nodded immediately. "Y-Yes! Hurry! Protect me!"
The moment they turned into a deserted alley, an injured guard bleeding from his gut stumbled toward them and gasped out his dying words.
"L-Lord Arshan… t-they're… not knights… they're… terrorists…"
And then he collapsed, dead.
Arshan froze. The fake knights stopped walking. For one heartbeat, silence reigned.
Then Simon smiled darkly beneath his helmet.
"Orders from the young master, gentlemen."
A voice, calm and commanding, came through the communication crystal in his ear Roman's voice.
> "Cut his hands and legs. Hang him in the street. Burn the house. Save the captives. Bring me the proof. Then retreat."
Simon didn't hesitate.
One knight seized Arshan's arm. Another pinned him down. The merchant screamed, begging for mercy.
Steel sang once. Then again.
The alley echoed with short, brutal strikes and silence followed.
They wrapped the body in cloth, gagged the mouth to stifle any sound, and dragged him to the center of the market street.
His blood painted the cobblestones.
They tied the mutilated body high on a pole, the crimson soaking through the fabric and dripping onto the stone below.
When dawn light touched the town, the crowd gathered.
Someone screamed.
Another shouted in disbelief.
And then, one voice rose:
> "That's Arshan the slaver! He deserved this!"
The mob turned from shock to fury not at the killers, but at the man who had tormented them for years.
"The gods have judged!"
"You finally paid for your sins, scum!"
The street erupted into chaos, the people cheering, crying, venting years of anger at once.
Moments later, flames burst from the windows of Arshan's mansion.
The fire roared high into the night, casting an orange glow over the city.
The sign Arshan & Company melted away, and with it, one of Duke Noah's oldest pawns.
Back in Presia Dukedom
In the Duke's office, the projection faded as Velkan ended the spell.
Roman leaned back in his chair, watching quietly. His eyes reflected both the fire and the calm.
"Send the captives here," he ordered. "And make sure you secure the documents. Every record. Every transaction."
"Yes, young master," Velkan said. "They're already retrieving the ledgers."
Moments later, Jeremiah Nara opened a shimmering spatial portal in front of the Duke's desk.
Through it stepped trembling captives men and women freed from Arshan's cages followed by sacks of ledgers, scrolls, and blood-stained account books.
"Welcome to Presia," Roman said softly. "You're safe now."
Velkan quickly moved to close the portal as Jeremiah collapsed to one knee, exhausted.
Even Duke Jacob was silent for a while, his gaze fixed on the evidence in front of him.
"The merchant deserved what he got," Jacob said at last, his tone grim but approving. "You've done justice where the crown would not."
Roman smiled faintly.
"This is just the beginning, Father. I will turn their lives into living hell and send them straight to the end they deserve."
The room fell quiet.
Selena stood beside her brother, her expression unreadable half pride, half unease.
Jacob exhaled slowly, looking at his son the boy who had once been weak, uncertain, and forgotten by nobles and now the man orchestrating silent revolutions from the shadows.
Outside, the night sky burned faintly red from the flames rising over Ephor.
But for Roman, it was only phase one.
The game had just begun.