The government office remained eerily silent after Lucius's departure. His footsteps still lingered in the minds of every official, each echo reminding them that their power now belonged to him. Fear had soaked into the very walls, and not one dared lift their head until the Devil was gone.
At the estate, the council had gathered. Darius leaned against the marble pillar, arms crossed, his axes resting nearby. "It is done," he said. "The officials have bowed. Their fear will keep them chained."
Silvio Marcellus smirked, shuffling through documents already delivered from the government's archives. "Fear is a strong leash. But fear can also fade. We must ensure they are tied by something more permanent."
Lucius entered, and the room fell silent. His crimson eyes glowed faintly in the candlelight, his presence pressing against them like a crushing weight. "Permanent," he repeated, voice calm yet dangerous. "Yes, Silvio. Fear is the seed, but control is the harvest."
Victor Draemont stepped forward, his voice low and precise. "The city's economy is already under my hand. With the government's compliance, we can reroute funding, dissolve resistance, and starve any hidden rebels."
Ravenna licked the edge of her blade, her grin widening. "And when starving does not break them, I will. Let them scream until their bones give way."
Lucius's gaze lingered on her for a moment before shifting to Adrian Crowe, who was hunched over stacks of contracts and decrees. The lawyer's lips curled into a twisted smile. "The courts will not just obey. They will praise you. I have judges ready to declare you the very foundation of law itself."
Selene, kneeling at the foot of the council chamber, raised her head slowly. Her voice was softer, tinged with lingering regret. "Master, I have taken their secrets. Every whisper, every hidden ally… I will tear them out and present them to you, piece by piece."
Lucius stepped closer, tilting her chin upward with one finger. "Do not mistake forgiveness for weakness, Selene. You serve because I allow you to. Fail me again, and you will learn new meanings of suffering."
"Yes, master," she whispered, trembling under his touch.
Cain Mortalis had remained quiet, his axe leaning against the stone wall. At last, he spoke, his voice rough but steady. "The government bends, but something stirs beneath. They are not finished. We should strike before they gather strength."
Lucius's lips twitched into a knowing smile. "They will gather strength. They always do. And when they rise, it will not be to challenge me… but to expose themselves."
Darius slammed a knife into the table, his eyes flashing. "Then say the word, master. Let us hunt them now, before they take root."
Lucius looked at his council one by one, his crimson gaze unblinking. "Patience," he said softly. "Every shadow will reveal itself in time. Tonight, they whisper. Soon, they will shout. And when they do, I will silence them forever."
Victor adjusted his cufflinks, studying Lucius carefully. "And if the whispers run deeper than the city, if the government itself hides foreign allies?"
Lucius's grin widened, sharp as a blade. "Then the world will learn what your city already knows that the Devil cannot be touched."
The council fell into silence, their loyalty thick in the air, though unease lingered in their eyes. For all their power, they sensed that Lucius already saw further than they could.
Outside, the night thickened, and the city pulsed with an uneasy calm. Yet far beyond the streets, in a hidden chamber, cloaked figures gathered around a long table. They whispered of Lucius's rise, of his dominion over both underworld and government.
One voice hissed in the dark. "If he is not stopped, he will not only own the city. He will own the nation."
Another voice, trembling but determined, replied, "Then we must strike first. Even if it means calling on enemies far older than him."
The candlelight flickered, shadows twisting across the room. Their whispers were desperate, but their plan was already in motion.
Back in the estate, Lucius stood at the balcony, overlooking his city. His eyes narrowed as if he could see through walls, through shadows, through every secret hidden from him. He whispered a single phrase to the night.
"Let them plot. Let them gather. When they rise, I will be waiting."
The night answered with silence. But in that silence, the city trembled.