Ch 99: A City Unaware

The city carried on as if nothing had changed.

In the markets, vendors hawked their wares—fresh fish, dried spices, bolts of dyed fabric. The rhythmic clang of blacksmiths' hammers echoed through the alleyways, blending with the sounds of merchants shouting their daily deals.

Children ran through the streets, kicking a worn leather ball between them. Carriages rolled down cobblestone roads, their iron-rimmed wheels clattering.

To the average citizen, tonight was just another night.

But beneath that normalcy, in the shadows and hidden corners of the city, Kael and Mira prepared for war.

Kael crouched inside the dimly lit hideout, carefully adjusting the pressure valves on a canister of compressed gas.

The mixture inside was highly unstable—a concoction of alchemic compounds that, when released, would create an instant wall of choking fog. Perfect for blocking sight lines and forcing enemies into a kill zone.

Across from him, Mira double-checked a satchel of alchemical flasks, each labeled in her sharp, deliberate handwriting.

Ignition: A thick, gel-based flame that could burn through armor. Tear Powder: A noxious blend meant to incapacitate and disorient. Resin Gel: A binding agent that could be used to seal doors, clog weapons, or trap limbs.

She glanced at Kael as he sealed the final canister.

"You always work so quietly," she noted.

Kael didn't look up. "Less talking, fewer distractions."

Mira smirked. "Right. Because it's not like we're about to start a citywide bloodbath or anything."

Kael finally met her gaze. "We won't need to, if this goes right."

"Since when has anything ever gone right for us?"

Kael exhaled sharply through his nose. "Then we improvise."

While they worked, the enemy moved.

Across the city, in a warehouse on the outskirts of the dock district, the surviving mercenaries gathered under the command of Derrik Iron-Fang.

The fire at the docks had decimated their forces—but it hadn't ended them.

They still had numbers. They still had weapons. And now?

They had a plan.

Derrik stood before his men, his burned coat still smoldering at the edges, his expression carved from pure, unfiltered rage.

"That bastard has had his fun," he growled. "Now it's time to end it."

A murmur ran through the crowd.

One of the mercenaries hesitated. "Sir, you saw what he did. If he has more, we won't be able to—"

Steel flashed.

Derrik's blade sliced across the man's throat, cutting off his protest with a wet, gurgling choke.

The rest fell silent.

Derrik wiped the blood from his blade.

"No more running. No more waiting. Tonight, we take his head—or we don't come back."

The mercenaries nodded.

The hunt was on.

Back at the hideout, Kael and Mira finished their preparations.

The warehouse was set.

Trap lines rigged to the entrances. Blind grenades in key positions. Fire bombs ready to turn the place into an inferno.

Kael adjusted the straps on his belt, ensuring his blades were in place. His sword, his throwing knives—every weapon within reach.

Mira secured her alchemical gloves, the reinforced leather bracers lined with vials of quick-reacting compounds.

Then, they waited.

The city continued around them, oblivious.

Night fell.

And the enemy came.

The final battle was about to begin.