The night reeked of blood. Streets glistened under the pale moonlight, littered with the bodies of those who thought rebellion was possible. Fear once again wrapped the city like a cloak, and the whispers of defiance faded into silence.
Inside the estate, the council gathered before Lucius. They had returned from the slaughter, their blades still wet, their clothes carrying the stench of death. None dared speak first.
Lucius sat on his throne, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim hall. He watched the broken rebels dragged forward, bound in chains, their spirits shattered. "Look at them," he said softly. "Men who believed courage could shield them from me. Tell me, where is that courage now?"
The prisoners whimpered, avoiding his gaze. Ravenna smirked, crouching close enough to make one of them flinch. "I could cut out their tongues, my lord. That way, their lies never leave their lips again."
Adrian Crowe raised a finger. "Not yet. Their words are more valuable than their lives. We need names, allies, and most of all, who fed them hope."
Victor Draemont adjusted his coat, his voice calm but sharp. "Funds moved through channels I could not immediately trace. Whoever supported them was careful, almost too careful."
Silvio Marcellus's eyes narrowed as he studied the prisoners. "Then this was no simple rebellion. Someone guided them, someone who knows how to mask his hand."
Lucius leaned forward, his voice low. "You speak of a ghost. One who hides behind the weak to test my strength. Let him hide. He will reveal himself soon enough."
Darius stepped closer, his presence suffocating. "Give me the word, master. I will rip apart every street until he crawls from his hole."
Lucius raised a hand, stopping him. "Patience, Butcher. A true enemy reveals more when he believes he is unseen."
The rebels were dragged away to their punishment, their cries fading into the distance. Yet Enzo, standing quietly near the council, noticed something strange. One of the prisoners, just before being taken, whispered a name under his breath. Enzo strained to hear, but only caught fragments: "…he… betrayed… Lucius…"
That night, while the council celebrated their victory, the figure appeared again, watching from the rooftops. His cloak fluttered in the wind, his face hidden in shadows, but his voice was sharp with venom. "Lucius," he whispered, "you thought me dead. You thought me erased. But I live, and I will carve your empire into pieces."
The figure moved swiftly, his steps silent across the rooftops. He carried no banner, no crest, only a scar across his face that glistened in the moonlight. Those who saw him whispered his name in fear—Dominic Kain.
Back in the estate, Victor Draemont studied his ledgers again, frowning. "Untraceable money. It vanished from official accounts only to reappear in rebel hands. This reeks of someone with government influence."
Adrian tapped his papers with cold precision. "If that is true, then our ghost is not only alive but thriving in the halls of power."
Enzo finally spoke, his voice tight. "Who is he?"
The council fell silent. Ravenna smirked, her voice playful yet laced with poison. "A name your master once buried in fire and ash. Someone foolish enough to crawl back from the grave."
Lucius's crimson gaze fixed on the boy, his tone heavy with old memory. "Dominic Kain. Once an ally, then a traitor. A man who dared to bite the hand that fed him. I left him broken, but clearly, I did not break him enough."
The hall darkened as silence followed his words. Cain Mortalis's axe rested against the stone, his silence heavier than thunder.
Darius spat on the ground. "If he is alive, I will finish what we started."
But Silvio raised a hand, his expression grave. "Not so simple. If Dominic has survived this long, then he is patient, cunning, and dangerous. Men like that do not crawl back without a plan."
Lucius smiled faintly, his grin sharp. "Good. Let him plot. Let him believe he can strike. When he comes, I will not only destroy him but also every fool who stands with him."
Meanwhile, in a hidden chamber beneath the government offices, Dominic Kain sat with cloaked figures around him. His voice dripped with venom as he addressed them. "Lucius believes himself untouchable. But I know his council. I know his weaknesses. We will cut off his wings, one by one."
One of the figures trembled. "But… he is the Devil. None have survived him."
Dominic slammed his fist on the table, the scar on his face twitching. "I survived. And if I can, then so can you. Fear is a lie he has fed this city for too long. It is time we feed him fear instead."
Back at the estate, Lucius stood on his balcony, staring into the night. His crimson eyes glowed like embers. He felt it—the faint tremor of an old enemy stirring.
"Dominic," he whispered, his laughter low and cruel. "You dare crawl back into my world. Very well. Come closer, and I will show you what true damnation looks like."
The wind howled across the city, carrying both his laughter and the distant whispers of Dominic's promise. The Devil's rule stood unchallenged for now, but the first cracks had begun to show.
And in those cracks, the shadows gathered.