The sun set over the Empire, but in Vayne City, the lights never went out.
While the capital relied on flickering oil lamps and expensive mana candles, the city built atop the Blackstone Range hummed with a different kind of energy.
Thick cables, glowing with processed neon-blue mana, ran along the sides of the steel buildings like arteries. Steam vented from the underground reactors, mixing with the cold mountain air to create a perpetual, glowing fog. High above, the red eyes of Sentinel Drones swept the streets in grid patterns, their turbines whining softly.
It was a sight that would have terrified a medieval peasant. It was a cyberpunk nightmare birthed in a fantasy world.
On the rooftop of the Central Processing Plant, five shadows moved with unnatural silence.
They were The Black Hand. The Emperor's personal wet-work squad. Ghosts who had toppled kingdoms, silenced dukes, and erased bloodlines without ever being seen.
Wraith, the squad leader, signaled his team to halt. He was a Level 46 Assassin, draped in a cloak enchanted with [Greater Invisibility].
"Target is the Engineering Spire," Wraith whispered via telepathy. "Objective: Secure the 'Green Light' blueprints. Eliminate the Dwarf engineer, Brok. Leave no witnesses."
The team nodded. They were efficient professionals. They looked down at the glowing city with disdain. Lights and noise. It was a playground for amateurs. They were the darkness.
They leaped across the gap to the Spire, their boots touching the metal roof without a sound.
"Bypassing magical wards," the mage of the group whispered, waving a wand over the ventilation grate. "Strange. No rune circles. No alarm spells. The security is nonexistent."
Wraith sneered beneath his mask. "The Baron is arrogant. He trusts his walls too much."
They opened the grate and dropped into the ventilation shaft.
They didn't trigger any magical wards because there were none. They did, however, break three infrared laser tripwires and disturb a motion sensor grid.
Fifty floors below, in the security hub, a red light blinked on a screen.
The team dropped into the hallway outside the Main R&D Lab. It was a pristine corridor of white tiles and chrome.
"Breaching," Wraith signaled.
The heavy door was locked. The lockpicker stepped forward, pulling out his tools.
Click.
The door slid open instantly. It wasn't locked.
Wraith frowned. Something felt wrong. His instincts, honed by a hundred kills, were screaming.
But the mission came first. They slipped inside, daggers drawn.
The lab was dark, illuminated only by the blue glow of holographic tables displaying complex schematics.
In the center of the room, sitting on a swivel chair, was a woman.
Seraphina held a steaming cup of tea in one hand and a data-slate in the other. She wore a sleek, form-fitting bodysuit that shimmered with hex-weave fibers.
She didn't look up.
"You're late," she said, her voice echoing in the silent lab. "The Boss said you'd be here by midnight. It's 12:03."
Wraith froze. The element of surprise was gone.
"Kill her," he ordered.
Five assassins exploded into motion. They were fast—blurring speed that no normal mage could track. Poisoned daggers aimed for her throat, heart, and eyes.
Seraphina took a sip of tea. She snapped her fingers.
KL-CLACK.
The walls of the laboratory didn't just slide open; they rotated.
From hidden bays, six spherical metal objects floated out. Mark IV Combat Drones. Their central lenses glowed an angry crimson.
"Fire," Seraphina commanded.
The assassins were mid-air when the drones fired.
ZREEE-ZREEE-ZREEE!
These weren't arrows. They weren't fireballs. They were concentrated beams of superheated mana. Lasers.
The lead attacker's chest vanished. One moment he was flying; the next, he was a smoking torso falling to the floor.
"What?!" Wraith screamed, skidding to a halt.
"Formation B!" Seraphina said, bored.
She slammed her hand onto the desk. A rune circle—mathematically perfect and digitally enhanced—flared under the assassins' feet.
[Spell: Cryo-Stasis Field (Amplified)]
The temperature dropped to absolute zero in a split second. The three remaining assassins froze mid-stride, encrusted in blocks of clear, unbreakable ice.
The drones swiveled, locking onto the frozen targets.
ZREEE!
Three precise headshots shattered the ice statues into red mist and sparkling dust.
Total combat time: 4 seconds.
Wraith, the only survivor, stared in horror. He had fought Arch-mages. He had fought Dragons. He had never seen his team erased by furniture.
"Monster," he gasped.
He threw a smoke bomb and activated his [Shadow Step], disappearing into the darkness of the corridor. He had to report this. The Emperor had to know.
He sprinted down the hallway, heart hammering. He reached the elevator.
The lights in the corridor died.
Total darkness.
Wraith froze. He was an assassin. The dark was his ally.
But this darkness was... heavy. It tasted of old iron and deep water.
Two purple flames ignited in the air in front of him. Floating. Watching.
"Going somewhere?" a voice asked. It sounded like metal grinding on bone.
Nero stepped out of the wall. Not through a door—out of the wall. He was massive, his obsidian armor absorbing the faint emergency lighting.
Wraith slashed with his dagger—a desperate, terrifying strike meant to sever the soul.
Nero caught the blade. With two fingers.
SNAP.
The dagger broke.
"The Master is waiting," Nero growled.
The floor beneath Wraith turned into a pool of black liquid. He tried to scream, but the shadows grabbed his ankles, dragging him down into the Void.
Wraith fell through freezing nothingness for an eternity.
Then, he hit a soft surface.
Thump.
He gasped for air, scrambling backward.
He was in a penthouse office. A fireplace crackled warmly. Jazz music played softly from hidden speakers.
Sitting behind a massive desk of void-wood was a young man in a silk shirt, tinkering with a small, rectangular device with a jeweler's screwdriver.
Baron Lucas Vayne.
Lucas didn't look up. He rotated a micro-screw.
"The Emperor is rude," Lucas said conversationally. "If he wanted my secrets, he could have just bought a subscription."
Wraith pressed himself against the wall, trembling. He was a Level 46 elite. He was terrified of this Level 20 boy.
"You... you killed them," Wraith rasped. "The Black Hand. We are the Emperor's shadows."
Lucas finally looked up. His eyes were blue, calm, and utterly unbothered.
"And now you are fertilizer for my hydroponics garden. Efficiency is key."
Lucas stood up and walked around the desk. He held the small device he had been working on. It was a slab of black glass, slim and elegant.
"I'm going to let you live, Wraith," Lucas said.
Wraith blinked. "Why?"
"Because fear travels faster than rumors," Lucas replied. "I need someone to tell Aldric exactly what happened here tonight. Tell him that my walls have eyes. Tell him my soldiers don't sleep. Tell him that Vayne City is unassailable."
Lucas tossed the device to the assassin.
Wraith caught it. It was smooth, cool to the touch. The screen lit up with the Vayne Corp logo.
"What is this?"
"It's a VayneCom," Lucas said. "Prototype 1. It's a communication device. Better than a sending stone. Instant, encrypted voice transmission anywhere on the continent."
Lucas leaned against his desk, smiling.
"Give that to His Majesty. Tell him it has a direct line to me. Number 1."
His smile sharpened.
"Tell him the next time he wants to talk, he should call. Breaking into my house is poor etiquette."
Lucas pointed to the balcony door.
"Leave. Before Nero gets hungry."
Wraith didn't hesitate. He scrambled out the door, jumped off the balcony, and activated his glider, fleeing into the night as if the devil himself was snapping at his heels.
Lucas watched him go, swirling his whiskey.
Seraphina walked in from the lab, holstering her wand. She wiped a speck of blood from her cheek and smirked.
"They really thought they could sneak in here," she said, shaking her head.
"Arrogance is a common flaw in the old regime," I replied, swirling my drink. "They still think the dark protects them. They don't realize we own the light switch."
I looked down at the city—my city. The neon lights pulsed like a heartbeat.
The Empire was playing a game of swords and shields. I was playing a game of information and industry.
And I had just handed the Emperor a phone so I could tell him exactly when he lost.
[ System Notification: Imperial Black Ops Neutralized. ]
[ Emperor's Trust: -50%. ]
[ Reputation: The Untouchable Baron. ]
[ Reward: +1,200 Destiny Points. ]
"Seraphina," I said, turning back to the desk. "Start mass production on the VayneComs. We launch next week."
"The price?"
"Expensive," I grinned. "Very expensive."