The Heist of the Century

The smoke from Khaz's cigarette hung in the air, mingling with the scent of old oil and dust. The warehouse was a jumble of rusted shelves and forgotten crates. The dim lightbulb flickered, casting restless shadows on the peeling walls. The group was gathered around a makeshift table, each digesting the leader's words. The atmosphere was no longer casual. Now, there was a real weight to it.

Khaz flicked the cigarette butt to the ground and crushed it under his boot. Then, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

"Listen up, because I won't repeat myself. Tonight, we break into the underground vault of the Reliquary."

The silence that followed was absolute.

Gideon was the first to react. He let out a low, disbelieving laugh.

"You're kidding, right? The Reliquary vault? The most secure building in the city? You've finally lost it, boss!"

Willy whistled, propping his chin on his hands.

"Well, if we're going to hell, might as well go in style."

Troy, who had been lounging in his chair, now seemed a bit more attentive.

"Okay, and what exactly is in this vault that's worth the risk?"

Khaz stood up and walked over to an old metal cabinet in the corner of the warehouse. With a tug, he opened one of the doors and pulled out a black briefcase. He placed it on the table and popped the latch with a sharp click.

Inside were a series of documents, maps, and hastily scribbled notes. In the center, a photograph caught their attention: a golden medallion with arcane inscriptions.

Salen narrowed his eyes, pulling one of the papers toward him.

"And what's so special about this medallion?"

"They say it's a divine artifact. A conduit of pure power." Khaz closed the briefcase. "If we can get our hands on it, we won't be puppets to those damned Avatars and their gods anymore. We'll have power of our own."

The group exchanged glances. It was an insane risk, but the promise of independence from the Avatars was tempting.

Nero swallowed hard.

"And... how exactly do we do that without dying in the process?"

Khaz smirked.

"That's where the plan comes in."

He pulled out a map of the Reliquary and spread it across the table.

"We have a fifteen-minute window during the guard shift change in the underground sector. The main security system is based on divine runes, but we've got a workaround." He pointed to a less-monitored side passage. "We'll need a rune expert. Fortunately, I've already taken care of that."

Gideon raised an eyebrow.

"Who?"

The warehouse door creaked open once more.

All eyes turned to the hooded figure who entered. Their steps were firm but silent, as if they were accustomed to walking in shadows. The dim light cast their silhouette in an almost menacing way. There was something about their presence that made the air in the warehouse feel heavier, as if they had brought a piece of the night with them.

They stopped in front of the table, observing the group without hurry. Then, they lowered their hood, revealing a pair of sharp, blade-like eyes and a smile that seemed both friendly and treacherous.

"Greetings, gentlemen. I hear you need someone who understands magic."

Gideon didn't hide his suspicion.

"And how do we know we can trust you?"

Ezra simply chuckled low. Without answering directly, he leaned over the map and ran a finger along one of the routes Khaz had drawn.

"You're planning to enter through here, right?" He pointed to the side passage. "Bad choice. This rune here activates a containment seal the moment an unauthorized person steps into the area. Meaning, you'd be trapped before you even saw the vault."

The group exchanged glances, now even more cautious. Khaz narrowed his eyes.

"And what's the alternative?"

Ezra pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket and drew a small symbol in the corner of the map.

"There's a way to temporarily disable the defenses, but it requires precision. I perform the ritual, and you'll have exactly seventy-two seconds to get through. One second more and..."

He snapped his fingers.

"You turn to dust."

The weight of the mission grew even heavier on the group.

Khaz slammed his palm on the table.

"Understand this: this is our chance. If we succeed, we're no longer just a bunch of thieves trying to survive. We'll be playing on the same level as those bastards."

The group still seemed hesitant, but something in Khaz's voice pulled them into the promise. It was a leap into the unknown, but maybe it was worth it.

"Rest while you can." Khaz gave a half-smile. "At midnight, we move."

The plan was in motion. And there was no turning back.

While they still had time, each prepared in their own way.

Nero disassembled and reassembled his pistol repeatedly, his trembling hands trying to mask his anxiety.

Troy meticulously sharpened a long knife.

Gideon pulled an old photograph from his pocket, studying it for a few seconds before putting it away.

Salen examined the Reliquary documents one more time.

Willy leaned back against a stack of crates, his fingers drumming nervously on the wood.

Ezra remained standing, staring at the map on the table, the glint in his eyes suggesting there was more at stake for him.

And Khaz?

He stepped away from the group and faced his own reflection in a cracked mirror on the wall.

For a moment, he saw something different there—perhaps a man about to make history, or perhaps just a fool marching to his own ruin.

A voice echoed in his mind, familiar and malicious:

"Going to need our help, big guy?"

Khaz frowned.

"I don't need you for this."

Nathanos's low laugh reverberated in his mind.

"Ah, but you do. You know you do. These little friends of yours? They don't have what it takes to really win. Me, on the other hand…"

Khaz took a deep breath, pushing the thought away.

"Stay out of this."

"Sure, sure. But when things go wrong… when the knife's at your throat…" Nathanos paused, his tone amused. "I'll be here."

The mirror reflected a green glint in Khaz's eyes for a moment before he blinked and turned away.

He lit another cigarette, turning back to the group.

At midnight, it would all begin.