Chapter 12: Warlock's End
Qarth's warlock district loomed under a crimson dusk, its spires jagged against the sky, their sandstone facades carved with eerie sigils that pulsed faintly, the air thick with ozone, incense, and the low hum of forbidden magic. Shadows twisted in narrow alleys, torches flickering, casting jagged light on cracked walls. Adam Stiels crouched beside a ruined shrine, its altar stained with ash, his black cloak blending into the gloom, his hazel eyes piercing the darkness, his HUD glowing: [SYSTEM: LEVEL 2, 6/1,000 USES, 9-MINUTE COOLDOWN.] His smirk was sharp, his fingers twitching to snap, his boots silent on the uneven stone, the air cool with dusk's breath, his sword hilt cool under his palm. These warlocks are done playing, but I've got the final card, he thought, his cloak brushing the shrine, its sandstone rough, his breath steady despite the magic's weight.
The warlock leader, a gaunt figure cloaked in black, his eyes glowing with unnatural light, unleashed a magical assault on Daenerys' palace, illusions of wraiths shrieking through the marble halls, their forms twisting like smoke, her guards scattering, their swords clanging uselessly. Adam snapped his fingers, casting enhanced Igni, flames roaring like a dragon's breath, consuming the illusions, ash scattering like dark snow, the warlock's scream sharp as he stumbled, his cloak sizzling. [SYSTEM: IGNI (ENHANCED), 1 MINUTE, 7/1,000 USES.] Lyra, disguised as a warlock via Faceless Men training, her face shifting to mirror a robed acolyte, infiltrated the stronghold, slipping past guards, her silver sword hidden, planting a Grapeshot bomb that shattered a ritual altar, stone cracking, flames blooming. [SYSTEM: LYRA, DISGUISE SUCCESS.] Daenerys, her silver hair tightly braided, stood firm, her violet eyes steady, her voice soft but resolute. "You're unstoppable, Adam." He tossed a coin, its silver flashing in the torchlight, his grin wide. "Qarth's toast, Dany. Westeros next?"
At a Qartheen council, its chamber heavy with silk drapes and jasmine, Adam pranked Viserys, casting Axii to make him sing a bawdy tavern tune, his voice cracking, Qartheen lords laughing, their goblets raised, Viserys' face purple, his tarnished crown slipping. [SYSTEM: AXII (ENHANCED), 30 SECONDS, 8/1,000 USES.] "Sing louder, Your Grace, the warlocks are fans," Adam said, smirking, Viserys' glare venomous, his hands trembling. In a shadowed market, Adam spotted a system NPC, his glow faint, a Gwent deck spread on a table cluttered with vials. Adam's Vesemir card crushed the NPC's Nilfgaard deck, winning a steel sword diagram and a sack of gold, the coins heavy in his hand. [SYSTEM: GWENT WIN, STEEL SWORD DIAGRAM, 7/10 MATCHES.] "My deck's sharper than Viserys' wit," he teased, the trader's laugh warm, his hands shuffling cards with practiced ease.
Adam crafted a Grapeshot bomb at an alley table, mixing wildfire traces and sulfur, the air acrid, the fuse sparking as he tested it, stone shattering in a controlled blast, dust swirling. [SYSTEM: ALCHEMY, GRAPESHOT CRAFTED, 5/5 POTIONS, ALCHEMY LEVEL UP.] He explored the warlock district, its alleys narrow, finding ritual artifacts—vials of blood, dragon claws, a charred scroll—his HUD pinging: [SYSTEM: WARLOCK PLOT ENDED.] He bonded with Daenerys over spiced wine, its tang sharp, joking about Westeros, her violet eyes bright, her smile warm, her fingers tracing her goblet. "Iron Islands or bust, Dany," he said, her laugh soft, the torchlight catching her silver hair. He bantered with Lyra, praising her disguise: "Kid, you're sneakier than me dodging council meetings." Her grin was fierce, her sword hilt steady, her leather creaking.
Adam sparred with Tomas, his Shadow Trick creating flickering illusions, their blades clashing, the air sharp with sweat and steel, Tomas' moves swift from warlock training. Money-maker's got flair, Adam thought, his HUD updating: [SYSTEM: TOMAS, SHADOW TRICK PROFICIENT.] He planned a group prank with Tomas, targeting a Qartheen lord, plotting to use Axii to make him gift his robes to a servant, Tomas' eyes gleaming with mischief. Adam inspected the warlock artifacts, decoding their sigils under torchlight, their magic faint but ominous, his HUD warning: [SYSTEM: DESTROY BEFORE WESTEROS.] Pacing the district, he reflected on Daenerys' destiny, the air heavy with incense, Prophecy's a pain, but I'm her ace, his smirk cautious, the warlock threat fading but not gone.
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