Chapter 293 Securing Control & Establishing Authority D

The scent of blood still lingered in the mansion's halls, a grotesque reminder of what had transpired within its walls. Garik and his men had been purged, their broken bodies left to rot in the very space where they once commanded fear. But their deaths were only the beginning.

Eir and Mist stood over the corpses, their boots darkened with dried blood. The two freed dwarven women, their faces still pale from their ordeal, watched in silence. Their hands no longer trembled, their expressions no longer bore the vacant stares of victims. They had embraced the path of vengeance, and now, with their tormentors dead, they awaited the next step.

Mist turned to Eir, her golden eyes gleaming with amusement. "We should put these bodies to good use."

Eir nodded. "Agreed. The weaker gangs need to see what happens when power shifts hands."

The Flint gang had once dominated the underbelly of Blesas, ruling through brutality and fear. Now, with Garik's death, power was up for grabs, and if they did not act swiftly, chaos would consume the vacuum. Lesser gangs—scavengers by nature—would attempt to carve out their own territory from the remains. Eir and Mist would ensure that did not happen.

Tonight, the city would witness the rebirth of the Flint gang under new leadership.

The remnants of Garik's men had fled into the shadows after their leader fell. Some were smart enough to disappear, but others—whether out of loyalty or stupidity—lingered, waiting for an opportunity to reclaim their lost power. Eir and Mist would give them no such chance.

One by one in the dead of night, they hunted them down.

The first was found in a brothel, drinking away his sorrows in the arms of a woman who had no interest in him beyond his coin. Eir dragged him out by his hair, his screams cut short when Mist drove a blade into his throat.

The next few were gathered in a basement tavern, murmuring plans of revenge. The door barely creaked before Mist and Eir descended upon them, shadows moving in tandem with their blades. There was no battle—only slaughter. The smell of spilled ale mixed with blood as bodies hit the floor.

By the time dawn approached, the old Flint gang was no more. Those who had refused to kneel were erased. The few who surrendered—cowards who valued survival over loyalty—were spared but marked. Their new lives belonged to Eir and Mist, and they would prove their worth through servitude.

In the city's depths, the new Flint gang was already taking shape.

The bodies of Garik and his men were dragged through the slums of Blesas, their corpses dumped in the heart of the lower territories where the smaller gangs gathered. Their blood soaked the cobblestone streets, a grim reminder that power had shifted.

Mist stood before the gathered scoundrels and criminals, her stance relaxed but predatory. Eir was beside her, calm and unreadable as always. The whispers among the assembled gangs grew louder.

"The Flint gang is finished," a voice muttered.

"No," Eir corrected, her voice carrying despite its softness. "It has been reborn. It is now called the Mist Gang and we now control everything. Anyone who objects please step forward."

Silence followed. All eyes were on the bodies sprawled behind them, proof of their claim.

Mist stepped forward. "You all know what Garik and his men did—how they ruled by exploiting the weak, selling people like cattle, forcing women into their beds against their will." Her golden eyes gleamed, sharp and unrelenting. "That ends today."

Eir's voice followed, steady as steel. "The Flint gang will no longer prey on the powerless. The Mist gang will now protect them."

Murmurs of disbelief rippled through the crowd. The lesser gangs had never seen the Flint gang as anything but tyrants.

Mist smirked. "That doesn't mean we're soft. We will still control these streets, and those who don't submit will meet the same fate as Garik and his men." She gestured lazily toward the bodies. "Consider this your only warning."

A tension hung in the air. Then, one of the gang leaders—a burly dwarf with scars across his face—stepped forward. "And what happens to us?"

Eir met his gaze and then pointed to the mount of corpses. "Those who kneel will serve. Those who resist will perish."

A long pause. Then, the scarred dwarf dropped to one knee, bowing his head. One by one, the others followed, bending the knee in submission.

The new Mist gang had taken root.

With control established, the true work began. The vacancies left behind by the slaughter of the old guard needed to be filled, and Eir and Mist carefully selected who would be brought into the fold.

The women they had freed were given a choice. Some chose to walk away, wanting nothing to do with the underworld. They were given coin and safe passage out of the slums. But others, their souls scarred beyond repair, chose to stay.

For them, Mist and Eir provided options:

Some chose to work in the hostess bar Mist was planning to establish—a place where dwarven men could drink and talk, unaware that their secrets were being collected.

Others preferred a more direct role, opting for the security service that would serve as both a protection racket and a force to keep order in the underworld.

A few had skills suited for intelligence gathering, perfect for the black market network that would allow Eir and Mist to control the flow of information.

And some, still burning with the desire for vengeance, chose to become enforcers—soldiers of the new regime.

For the lesser gang members that had submitted, roles were assigned rather than chosen. The most dangerous were placed under watch, given tasks that ensured their usefulness without giving them too much freedom. The ones willing to prove their loyalty were given a path forward.

Eir personally ensured that each recruit understood one thing: their lives belonged to the Mist gang now, and disobedience would not be tolerated.

As the night stretched on, Eir and Mist stood atop the mansion's balcony, overlooking the streets below. The fires of Blesas flickered in the distance, casting long shadows over their domain.

"The first move is complete," Eir murmured. "Now we begin building."

Mist exhaled, the weight of their victory settling over her. "The city won't know what hit it."

Below them, the newly restructured Mist gang moved like clockwork—organizing, establishing order, preparing for what was to come. The underworld had been claimed, but this was only the beginning.

The new Mist gang was no longer just a collection of thugs. It was a force—a shadow looming over Blesas, growing stronger by the day.

And soon, it would be unstoppable.