Ch 98: The Messenger's Fate

The surviving mercenary limped through the dark alleyways, his breath ragged, his body broken. He had lost too much blood, his comrades were dead, and his armor was scorched. But he clutched the sealed canister in his trembling hands.

His employer would want it.

He finally reached the hideout—a discreet warehouse along the docks, where figures in dark coats waited under dim lantern light. The moment he stepped inside, hands grabbed him, dragging him to the center of the room.

A tall man, clad in reinforced leather and lined with steel plates, stepped forward. Derrik "Iron-Fang" Vaul. A veteran of wars, a commander of mercenary bands, and the man who had ordered the attack on Kael and Mira.

"You're alive?" Derrik sneered. "Barely. What happened?"

The mercenary coughed. "I-I brought a message."

Derrik's gaze fell to the black canister in the man's grip. He motioned for one of his lieutenants—a wiry man with scarred hands—to take it.

The lieutenant examined it, shaking it slightly.

"A poison, maybe?" he muttered. "Or a chemical weapon?"

Derrik snorted. "Cowards send messages in ink. Butchers send messages in blood."

He gestured. "Open it."

The lieutenant hesitated. But orders were orders. He twisted the metal seal, breaking the alchemical lock—

The canister hissed.

Then it exploded.

The black tar-like substance ignited instantly, consuming the lieutenant and the two men near him in a violent chemical inferno. The heat was unnatural, clinging to their skin like molten oil, melting flesh and armor alike.

Screams filled the warehouse.

Derrik stumbled back, his eyes wide. "What in the—?!"

The remaining mercenaries panicked. Some drew weapons, others tried to stamp out the flames—but it didn't stop.

The survivors who had inhaled even a trace of the fumes began coughing blood. One dropped to his knees, convulsing. Another clawed at his throat as his skin blackened.

Derrik snarled, slamming a gauntleted fist into the wall. That bastard.

Kael had sent them a message, all right.

And he had made sure they wouldn't misinterpret it.

ack at their warehouse-turned-workshop, Kael worked with meticulous precision. He had limited resources, but that didn't mean he couldn't make them count.

On the workbench before him, the inner workings of a drone lay exposed—its frame lightweight but durable, fitted with small compartments designed for chemical payloads. He wasn't building crude machines of war—he was engineering tactical tools, each designed for a specific function.

A soldering iron sparked as he connected a thermal detonator's trigger system. The drone wouldn't just fly into a fight—it would pick its targets, execute with precision, and then vanish before the enemy could react.

Nearby, a row of chemical canisters stood ready. He had devised a variety of compounds—one for disorientation, one for incapacitation, and another for armored targets. The key was adaptability.

The crawler stood at the far end of the workshop, stripped open for modifications. Its armor was being reinforced, its main weaponry adjusted for better crowd control and quick-response attacks.

Mira entered, tossing a data slate onto the workbench. "You'll want to see this."

Kael didn't look up. "Find anything useful?"

She scoffed. "More than useful. Those mercs? They were bait. Someone was testing our response."

Kael set his tools down. "And?"

Mira leaned against the bench, arms crossed. "The Consortium's involved, but they're not alone. The Union of Steel has a hand in this too. And then there's another player—Red Veil. They're a cleanup crew, the kind that makes sure loose ends don't get a second chance."

Kael exhaled, rubbing his chin. "So, we're in the middle of a proxy war."

"Looks that way," Mira confirmed. "And I don't think they're going to stop."

Kael glanced at the half-finished drone, then at the crawler. "Then we'd better make sure they regret starting this."

Mira tapped the data slate, bringing up a list of names, locations, and encrypted communications she had decrypted. The screen flickered as she scrolled through intercepted messages, reports from informants, and financial transactions linking various factions.

"These mercs weren't just here for us," she said. "They were part of a larger operation—one that's been running for months. They were testing Absheron's stability, gauging how much resistance they'd face if things escalated."

Kael leaned in, scanning the data. "And?"

Mira exhaled, tapping one of the names. Rothan Drex.

"He's the main handler here, working under the Union of Steel. They're an arms-dealing syndicate that operates under the guise of a logistics company. They're not as big as the Consortium, but they're ambitious. They've been expanding their influence in the Blanks, and Absheron is one of their key locations."

Kael crossed his arms. "And they're working with the Consortium?"

"Not exactly. More like they're taking advantage of the situation. The Consortium is tangled up in too many conflicts right now, so the Union is slipping in wherever they can." Mira scrolled down. "But the bigger problem is Red Veil."

Kael's brow furrowed. "The cleanup crew?"

Mira nodded. "They don't fight wars. They end them. When factions need to erase evidence or eliminate problematic individuals, Red Veil steps in. Their specialty is covert operations—assassinations, sabotaging supply lines, destabilizing governments."

She turned the slate toward Kael. A grainy image of a masked figure appeared—Serik Vash.

"He's here," Mira said. "Red Veil's leading operator. He's been in Absheron for a week, watching. Probably waiting for the Union and Consortium to tear at each other before stepping in to clean up. And now that we've entered the equation, we're a variable they didn't account for."

Kael's fingers drummed against the workbench. "That explains why the mercs came so fast. They're trying to see how much of a threat we really are."

Mira folded her arms. "And we just gave them an answer."

Kael exhaled. "We're not just dealing with low-level mercs anymore. We're facing arms dealers, corporate manipulators, and professional assassins." He glanced at the crawler, then at the drones waiting for final assembly.

Mira smirked. "Regretting it?"

Kael shook his head. "No. Just means I need to work faster."

He turned back to his workbench, grabbing a set of tools. If these factions wanted to test the waters, he'd make sure they drowned in them.