Chapter 9: Blood on the Streets

The slums of Velmire were restless. The Phantom's message had spread like wildfire, igniting whispers in dark alleys and setting flames of rebellion in the hearts of those who had lived under Gorran's boot for too long.

Some believed the Phantom was a myth. Others feared him.

But one thing was certain—Gorran would not let this stand.

By midday, the killings began.

Gorran's men—brutal enforcers known as the Huntsmen—swept through the slums like wolves. They weren't looking for Aedric himself; they were hunting anyone who spoke his name.

A merchant who had whispered about the Phantom's rebellion? Throat slit.

A beggar who had been seen reading the message? Body hanging from a lamppost.

A gang of street thugs who had joked about Gorran's weakness? Dragged from their hideout, never seen again.

By sundown, the message was clear:

Defy Gorran, and you die.

But fear was no longer Gorran's alone to wield.

Because in the shadows, the Phantom watched.

Aedric crouched on a rooftop overlooking a bloodstained alley. Three Huntsmen had just finished their work—an elderly man lay in a pool of crimson, his eyes wide with shock. A message was carved into the wall beside him:

"The Phantom is a lie."

Aedric's golden eyes burned.

He had expected Gorran to retaliate. He had even counted on it. But this? This was slaughter.

Aedric turned his head slightly. Beside him, Lirian watched with a grim expression. The thief queen's usual smirk was gone, replaced by something colder.

"This won't stop," she murmured. "He'll keep killing until you're either dead or forgotten."

Aedric's jaw tightened. "Then we don't let him."

Lirian raised an eyebrow. "And how do you plan to stop a butcher with an army?"

Aedric exhaled slowly, feeling the familiar pull of power inside him. His fingers twitched, and the shadows around him seemed to stir, responding to his will.

"We become the monsters in the dark."

The Huntsmen were brutal, but they were still men. And men could be hunted.

That night, as the streets lay silent in terror, Aedric and Lirian struck back.

One by one, Gorran's enforcers disappeared. Some were found the next morning, their bodies hanging upside down from rooftops, throats cut. Others simply vanished, their fates unknown.

But the worst was yet to come.

Because at the heart of the slums, at the very center of Gorran's power, a gift was left for him.

A single Huntsman's head, placed neatly on the steps of the Rusted Fang.

A note pinned to his forehead with a dagger:

---

"You hunt me in the streets.

I hunt you in the dark."

"-The Phantom"

Velmire's underworld held its breath.

The war had truly begun.