Chapter 8: The Phantom’s Message

The Rusted Fang tavern was filled with an uneasy silence. The usual sounds of drunken laughter and clinking mugs were absent. Instead, Gorran's men sat in tense clusters, murmuring among themselves. The air was thick with dread.

Hours ago, the unthinkable had happened.

The eastern dockyard—the heart of Gorran's smuggling empire—had been razed to the ground. His men slaughtered. His shipment stolen.

No one had dared strike him like this before.

And now, all of Velmire's underworld was watching.

Inside the back room of the tavern, Gorran paced furiously, his heavy boots thudding against the wooden floor. His scarred face twisted in rage as he slammed a fist onto the table, sending a goblet of wine spilling across the map of the slums.

Across from him, his second-in-command, Drennar, stood stiffly. Unlike Gorran, Drennar was lean, with a hawk-like face and cold, calculating eyes. He was the kind of man who didn't believe in superstition. But even he couldn't ignore the fear gripping their men.

"They're calling him the Phantom now," Drennar muttered. "Saying he has magic. That he made our men turn on each other."

Gorran's face darkened. "I don't care if he's a damn ghost. I want him dead."

Drennar nodded. "We've doubled patrols. Raised the bounty. Every cutthroat in Velmire will be looking for him."

Gorran wasn't satisfied. His power came from fear—from the knowledge that no one could touch him. But now? Now there was a challenge.

And if he didn't crush it soon, others would follow.

The streets of Velmire were restless that night. Word of the dockyard massacre had spread like wildfire. Some gangs whispered of rebellion. Others waited to see if the Phantom was just another fool with a death wish.

Then, just before dawn, the message appeared.

Every tavern, every alley, every black-market stall—each one found the same parchment, nailed to their doors with a dagger.

The words were written in bold, confident strokes:

---

"Gorran is not untouchable. His reign is built on stolen coin and fear. That fear now belongs to me."

"This city will not kneel to tyrants forever."

"The Phantom is coming."

The message was signed with a symbol—a black crown with a single, golden eye at its center.

The city trembled.

The underworld had seen gangs rise and fall. But this? This was something different. This wasn't just a rival thug looking for power.

This was the birth of something greater.

And Gorran?

Gorran had just become prey.