Chapter 9: But they need to see us.

The door swung open, revealing a world that dwarfed the Caidiz headquarters. Adi gasped, his eyes widening in awe. The Marid branch was a sprawling network of tunnels and chambers, its depths seemingly endless. Multiple floors stretched downwards, connecting to a labyrinth of passageways that snaked through the city, a hidden world beneath the bustling streets. There were more rooms here than in Caidiz, yet the air felt strangely empty, the silence broken only by the echo of his own footsteps.

"Geoffrey!" a woman's voice, sharp and urgent, echoed through the chamber. "Is that him? Get him in the office now!"

Geoffrey, his face grim, turned to Adi. "Seems urgent," he said. "Let's go."

They ran down a narrow corridor, the air thick with anticipation. They entered a large, dimly lit room, its walls lined with maps and charts, its atmosphere charged with tension. Adi, still reeling from the sheer scale of the headquarters, felt a wave of confusion wash over him. He had no idea what was happening.

The Head Master, a woman with sharp eyes and a commanding presence, stood at the head of a long, oak table. Eleven people sat around the table, their faces a mixture of curiosity and concern.

"What is your name?" the Head Master asked, her voice a low rumble.

"Adi," he replied, his voice barely a whisper.

"I am Nita," the Head Master said, her tone brisk. She was a woman in her thirties, her beauty striking, her eyes reflecting a lifetime of experience. She quickly introduced the others in the room.

Three Executioners: Phons, a stoic giant with a scarred face, Berns, a wiry, agile man, and Roxan, a woman with a cold, calculating gaze. Five Blenders: Morales, a wiry man with a sharp wit, Deo, a woman with a chameleon-like ability to blend in, Josei, a master of disguise, Mikael, a skilled infiltrator, and Jirah, a master of observation. One Developer: Celine, Geoffrey's wife and Ella's mother, a brilliant inventor and healer.

"Now that we know everyone," Nita said, her voice regaining its authority, "let's get back to the mission."

She pointed to a picture on a board, a man with a cruel smile and a glint of malice in his eyes. "The noble in question is Jacobo," she said. "He is the son of the former Duke Marion."

Adi's mind raced. He recognized the man in the picture. He was one of the nobles who had plotted against the Duke Vincenzo, the man who had helped him, the man who had died in his arms.

"We have been investigating him," Nita continued, her voice filled with a simmering anger. "We found out that he is part of a cult. He uses his slaves as living sacrifices, believing that sacrificing one will extend his life for a year. But the real problem is the cult. We have no clues about them. They are a wall. We have already lost twenty-seven Niziaris to them. Enough is enough. We will investigate the last place our last Blender was lost. All of us will spread out. Use these if anything attacks you."

Nita pulled out a small, cylindrical object, a firecracker. "This will alert us to your location."

Adi, his senses heightened, his mind racing, felt a surge of adrenaline. This was no ordinary mission. This was a fight for survival, a fight against a hidden enemy, a fight for the very soul of the society. He was ready. He was Adi, the Executioner, and he was ready to fight.

The briefing concluded, and the room buzzed with activity as the Niziari members prepared for their mission. Adi, still new to the society's ways, felt a prickle of unease. He assessed the situation, his mind sharp, his senses alert.

"We will be investigating at night," he said, his voice calm but firm. "But they need to see us. It won't be a stealthy mission. I will wear a brighter outfit."

His words, unexpected and bold, caught everyone's attention. They had all been preparing to blend into the shadows, to move unseen, to strike from the darkness. But Adi's suggestion resonated with them. He was right. They needed to be seen, to be noticed, to break the pattern of their usual operations.

One by one, they chose brighter clothing, their outfits a stark contrast to their usual dark attire. Adi, his mind already strategizing, selected a dagger, its blade honed to a razor's edge, and a set of throwing knives, their points sharp and deadly.

"This is not a fast kill," he said, his voice low and determined. "I need to equip myself, to prepare for something unknown."

They moved under the cloak of night, their senses on high alert. They investigated the open area, the place where their last Blender had disappeared, the place where the cult had left its mark. But Adi felt something was amiss. The air felt heavy, the silence too profound. He pushed deeper into the area, his senses tingling with unease.

He found it. A ritual site, hidden in the shadows, its stones weathered and ancient, its atmosphere thick with a sense of dread. But it was abandoned, its last use three days ago. Something was wrong. Adi's gut told him that this was a trap.

He rushed to Nita, his voice urgent. "I need to go to the headquarters now," he said.

Nita, her face a mixture of confusion and anger, demanded an explanation. "Why? What are you doing? This is a trap," Adi said, his voice laced with desperation.

He didn't wait for her response. He ran, his legs pumping, his heart pounding in his chest. A moment later, a firecracker exploded, its sharp, crackling sound echoing through the night. Nita, her eyes widening in alarm, reacted instantly. She grabbed the firecracker, its smoke a trail leading them to their destination.

They found a horrifying sight. A Niziari member, their body hanging from a tree, a letter clutched in their hand. Nita grabbed the letter, its contents a chilling message.

Before they could react, men in red clothing emerged from the shadows, throwing smoke bombs, their faces obscured by the swirling smoke. Nita, remembering Adi's warning, her voice filled with fury, roared, "Kill them all! Make sure none remain!"

A fierce battle erupted. The Niziari, their senses disoriented by the smoke, fought back with a ferocity born of betrayal and anger. Their bright clothing, a beacon in the smoke, allowed them to identify each other, to move with deadly precision. They slashed, they crushed, they fought with a desperate fury.

As the smoke cleared, Phons, his face grim, stood over a laughing enemy, his grip tight. "You all thought you were the target?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He laughed, a deep, chilling sound.

Nita, her eyes blazing with rage, understood. The real target wasn't the Niziari members. It was the headquarters, their sanctuary, their home. The cult had lured them away, creating a diversion, a trap, a deadly game.

The battle was over, but the war had just begun.