Chapter Text
The man had collapsed on the floor, barely conscious. He was breathing heavily and his face was covered in blood. His hands were tied behind his back, and even if they had been free, it would not have changed his situation. He was going to die, of that he had no doubt. However, his torturers had no intention of letting him go peacefully. He hoped to pass out so he would no longer feel the excruciating pain that had been inflicted on him. His tormentors were very imaginative, as he knew only too well, having infiltrated this gang and participated in this kind of activity so as not to risk blowing his cover. Now that his identity had been discovered, it was his turn to receive the blows he had once inflicted. He had already cracked, revealing everything he knew to his torturers about his mission and the list of contacts that had allowed him to join the organization. However, the men who had stabbed him repeatedly wanted to continue toying with him. His thighs and arms were bleeding profusely, but not enough to render him unconscious.
“Nikos, Nikos,” echoed the voice of the gang leader, proud of himself for having found a mole. “I'm really disappointed. I truly trusted you.” ."
Nikos didn't know what the man with glasses was saying. He could hardly hear anything, and he could hardly see anything, so much did the pain cloud his senses.
The man opposite stood up. He had absolutely no charisma, which was not surprising for a small fry like him.
“Your betrayal really hurts me,” said the man, making no effort to hide his smile, “but maybe the fact that I managed to flush out an Okhema government agent will help me climb the ladder. Mydeimos likes it when we eliminate traitors.”
If the man hadn't had his will broken and his jaw completely shattered, he would have told him that Mydeimos certainly wasn't interested in small-time crooks who only ran local gangs. Even the lieutenants of the Castrum Kremnos crime boss had probably never heard of Skott Lyndon. Nikos knew that the man who was torturing and beating him was considered a nobody in the underworld, a nobody whom the Castrum Kremnos bosses left alone because his neighborhood was not considered strategic at all. However, this nobody, Skott Lyndon, had connections, and some of them were apparently quite important in the organization. That was why Nikos had been given the mission to infiltrate the group around this small-time boss. Unfortunately, Skott the loser would be the one to kill him.
“Cut off his fourth finger,” Skott ordered Vincente, his most loyal henchman.
Vincente carried out the order without any remorse, and Nikos didn't even have the strength to scream. Vincente was a former mercenary who had worked for the city of Styxia and loved bloodshed too much to settle for a normal life after Styxia no longer needed him. He had boasted several times about participating in the massacre of the Chrysean heirs, and although Nikos thought it was a tall tale, he knew that Vincente was still a veritable killing machine, especially when under the influence of Nikador's Blood, a drug whose distribution was completely controlled by the Castrum Kremnos organization.
“Poor Nikos, he doesn't even amuse me anymore,” Skott said, yawning. "I would have thought he'd be more tenacious."
“Should I kill him, boss?” asked Vicente, who was surrounded by a dozen henchmen.
“Even though the show is starting to bore me, we have to make an example of him. Mydeimos will surely reward us,” replied Skott, full of disillusionment. “Cut off his remaining fingers and then dismember him. We'll send his remains to his colleagues. I'm sure they'll appreciate it.”
Vincente hesitated, perhaps he had more conscience than Skott.
“What is it?” Skott asked, annoyed.
“I was wondering, boss, if it was really wise to do this. His colleagues might try to avenge him...”
Skott sneered.
“Castrum Kremnos destroyed that organization of Chrysian heirs who were getting in his way. No one will dare challenge us after that.”
However, the sound of an explosion seemed to answer Skott, as if to mock him. The walls shook for a few seconds and screams could be heard outside the room.
“What... what's going on?” stammered Skott, who was as white as a sheet and had completely forgotten to torment Nikos any further.
Vincente signaled to five of his henchmen to leave the room to see what was happening. The building was well guarded; this kind of attack couldn't happen. Skott was shaking and pressed himself against a wall, while Vincente remained calm. He took a dose of Nikador's Blood; with this drug, he was absolutely invincible. His men looked at him before doing the same. They had hesitated, even though the drug was highly addictive and its devastating effects on the brain were no secret. However, if someone had really been able to eliminate all the gang members around the building, they would probably need it. Skott hid behind Vincente. After about twenty minutes, the men Vincente had sent to assess the situation still hadn't returned. The mercenary began to break out in a cold sweat. These men were competent and efficient; they should already be back. Vincente knew exactly what their absence meant. Those who were attacking them had eliminated them and would soon be arriving in this room.
“We're going to evacuate the building,” Vincente declared.
“No... no...” Skott stammered, “if they find us...”
“We can't just wait for them,” said the former mercenary. “We have to go out and let the other men inside take them out. The people attacking us don't stand a chance against us, but it's better to be safe than sorry.”
He hoped that his false confidence would temporarily calm Skott down.
Skott didn't dare contradict him; he too was afraid of Vincente. Vincente's men positioned themselves around the back door of the room where they were and opened it quietly before coming out with their weapons drawn.
All was silent. Skott sighed with relief, thinking that the attackers must have been eliminated and that everything had returned to normal, but Vincente was not so foolish. The silence meant that all his henchmen were dead. He shouldn't worry, he had taken a dose of this miracle drug, no one could resist it, he repeated to himself mentally, but he found it hard to convince himself. His men were also beginning to show signs of concern. They may have been professionals, but they were still unsettled by this unknown threat. They moved slowly along the emergency exit. They hoped their attackers wouldn't discover it. He regretted not bringing Nikkos with them; he could have served as a hostage. It was too late to turn back now. Those who had attacked them were certainly not far away, and they must be very skilled. Skott was so distraught he could barely walk, and Vincente had to grab him firmly to force him to move forward. He couldn't allow his employer to slow them down. They reached a staircase on the side of the building. All they had to do was go down and get their vehicle, hoping their attackers hadn't thought to destroy them first. The smell of blood was everywhere, and Vincente would recognize it anywhere. Those who had attacked them had been particularly effective, but certainly not subtle. When he reached the bottom, Vincente saw the cars on fire. Skott let out a cry of despair, and the henchmen began to panic. Vincente was not calm either.
“Enjoy this moment, vermin of Castrum Kremnos,” boomed a male voice, “for it is the last of your life.” Then two men fell, their throats slit. However, there was no sign of those who had just killed them.
“Where are you?” shouted Vincente, who was beginning to panic. “If you're not cowards, show yourselves!” "
A young man dressed in black, his hair covered, holding a bloody blade, advanced toward them. Vincente couldn't make out his face clearly; after all, it was night outside.
“The members of Castrum Kremnos are in no position to call me a coward,” replied the man, who made no attempt to hide the hatred in his voice.
“Where are your companions?” replied the mercenary. “Are they going to attack me treacherously?” "
“I don't need companions to eliminate a bunch of losers like you.”
The man disappeared for a few seconds, and two more of Skott's subordinates collapsed to the ground, dead. Vincente, who was a very experienced fighter, had been unable to follow the stranger's movements.
“You're a Chrysos heir,” growled the former mercenary. “I thought you were all dead!”
Skott crawled away from his attacker, but the latter had no trouble catching up with him.
“I came for you. Don't think you'll get away with this!”
“Wait,” cried Skott, “spare me and I'll give you everything you want, absolutely everything!”
The young man kicked him violently in the face before Vincente had time to intervene. Skott was stunned and didn't move.
“I hear you killed several Chrysos heirs on the day of the massacre,” said the man, looking at Vincente. “This fight shouldn't scare you.”
The last man in the gang accompanying Vincente desperately tried to escape, but the man killed him instantly by throwing a dagger that pierced his eyes.
Vincente was desperate. This man was certainly not just any Chrysos heir, and the mercenary realized that even the Blood of Nikador would not save him. The Blood of Nikador had the ability to increase the physical strength of any individual tenfold, but against a Chrysos heir of this caliber, it would not be enough. Who was he? Then the mercenary remembered some rumors he had heard, rumors of a Chrysos heir more dangerous than the others, the one the men of Castrum Kremnos had long nicknamed Death, the one Mydeimos was said to have been frustrated at not finding on the day of the massacre.
“Khaslana... you are Khaslana!”
Phainon threw himself behind him at lightning speed and slit his throat with a swift sword stroke. Vincente collapsed to the ground, Phaenon deliberately not killing him outright.
"You're nothing but a pathetic loser, and you claim to have killed several of us. Even the weakest of my companions would have had no trouble against you. "
Phainon stabbed Vincente again, avoiding his vital organs.
“I don't like doing this,” said the Chrysos heir, “but I'll make an exception for scum like you ! An exemplary death to inspire fear. Your leader is familiar with this method, after all !”
The scene lasted a moment, and after a dozen sword strokes, Phainon finished Vincente off. However, the mercenary was not his main target. He returned to Skott, who was shaking so badly that he had lost control of his body. The man with the glasses didn't even have enough composure left to beg Phaenon to spare him. He tried to crawl across the floor again, then turned around and put his hands out as if to block Phainon, who was inexorably approaching. He was truly pathetic.
Phainon grabbed him by the neck and lifted him slowly.
“You have two choices, Skott the loser: Either you tell me what I want to know right now and you'll die painlessly, even though you don't deserve it, or you refuse to talk and I'll subject you to the same torture that you and your men inflicted on the man you just murdered.”
“I... I... don't... torture me...” Skott cried desperately.
“Very well,” replied Phainon with an icy stare of hatred, “tell me where Mydeimos is.”
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Phainon knew he couldn't expect much from Skott. He was a small-time gang leader with no real future prospects if he stayed alive. However, his contact had insisted that Skott Lyndon had connections and certainly knew more about the leader of Castrum Kremnos than anyone realized. Massacring Skott and his men had been no challenge for Phainon. On the other hand, he knew it would be much more difficult to get to Mydeimos and his horrible friends. Skott, unsurprisingly, knew nothing about his main target. However, he did have information about another important person: Hephaestion. The latter was considered Mydeimos' closest friend and confidant, and rumors suggested that the two men were actually even more than that. Phainon didn't care about his targets' love lives, except when it could be useful for his revenge. If Hephaestion was really that close to Mydeimos, Phainon would get even more satisfaction from killing him. Being able to get to the man who had taken everything from him would certainly satisfy part of his desire for revenge. Skott had even given him some interesting details about Hephaestion, details on how to approach him. Hephaestion was in charge of the Okhema sector. This had particularly annoyed Phainon when he learned of it. Okhema, the holy city, the largest capital of Amphoreus, where he had met all his companions, but also the city where they had all been murdered. Phainon had hoped never to return to this city, which was now a shadow of its former self, but Mydeimos liked to play tricks on him. The Chrysos heir hoped that the massacre of Skott's gang and the rumor of Khaslana's return would deprive his enemy of a good night's sleep. It was time for fear to change sides, and all those involved in Castrum Kremnos' illegal trafficking had to know that they risked incurring Khaslana's wrath.
However, his plans for revenge would have to wait, as the priority today was to settle in Okhema without attracting attention. But since the collapse of the Chrysos heirs' organization, Phaenon was penniless. He knew he would have no trouble finding a small job; he had always been good at promoting himself, and his good looks and charm helped convince potential employers. That wasn't his immediate concern, though. First and foremost, he had to find a place to live, and in a city in as much crisis as Okhema, it wouldn't be as easy as it had been a few years ago. Phainon looked again at the contact details he had saved in his phone. The apartment wasn't in the worst part of town, but it wasn't far off. He knew that given his financial situation, he couldn't hope for anything better. Since the death of his friends, Okhema had descended into complete insecurity, and the council of elders, who had believed they could do without the Chrysos heirs, were now completely overwhelmed by the situation. Phainon did not feel sorry for them; after all, they were complicit in what had happened two years ago. The council of elders had therefore, due to their powerlessness, decided to concentrate what authority they had left on the few most affluent neighborhoods in the city and completely abandon the others to criminal organizations, mainly Castrum Kremnos. The neighborhood where he hoped to find lodging was one of them, but it wasn't one of the areas where Castrum Kremnos was most active. As he walked through the streets, Phaenon observed the passersby. They were few and far between; the streets of Okhema were much more deserted now that the Chrysos heirs were no longer there to maintain order. Those who were there had no choice, and they all constantly looked over their shoulders for fear of being attacked or kidnapped. Phainon knew that this wasn't the worst part of town, that it was even relatively quiet compared to many other neighborhoods, but the inhabitants of Okhema now lived in fear, wherever they were. He hoped he could put an end to this reign of terror.
The apartment was located in the middle of an old building that was still fairly well maintained. After all, broke students couldn't really ask for more. Of course, there was no elevator. After climbing several flights of stairs, Phainon finally arrived at the apartment landing. Everything depended on the other student who lived there, a certain Caelus. How could he convince him to choose him, Phainon, and not someone else ? What could set him apart from the others ? Phainon was broke, a point that would clearly work against him. He could make Caelus believe that he had already found a part-time job, but that was a risky strategy. Once again, he would have to rely mainly on his charm and smile. Because if there was one thing Phainon was well aware of, it was his ability to easily please others, thanks in particular to his attractive appearance. He was very popular among the Chrysos heirs and had often received rather indecent proposals. Even after the massacre of his comrades, when he was on the run and had nothing left, he continued to attract others, which had proved useful to him on several occasions. He knocked slowly on the door and waited for Caelus to open it.
“Coming! Coming!”
Phaenon noticed that the young man with gray hair who opened the door was also very handsome. However, what caught his attention most were the chocolate stains on his clothes and cheeks.
“You must be Phainon,” Caelus said, looking very embarrassed. “I'm sorry, but I'm really not presentable.”
Phainon knew it was time to flash his most beautiful smile and give him his most radiant look.
“It's okay,” Phainon replied. “It happens to everyone.”
Caelus stared at him for a few seconds, motionless, and Phaenon wondered if the young man was already receptive to his charm. However, Caelus quickly looked away without any ulterior motive, and the Chrysian heir realized that it would not be so easy to secure this apartment sharing after all.
“Come in,” Caelus invited him, “but... I don't have anything to offer you to eat.”
The apartment itself wasn't bad at all, but Caelus had left it in a terrible state. It was a complete mess, and Phainon realized that Caelus was neither the king of tidiness nor the king of cleaning. The worst part was the kitchen. Caelus had apparently been experimenting with cooking, and it had ended disastrously. There was cream and chocolate all over the walls. If Phainon had been a normal student, he would certainly have left already, but he desperately needed this apartment sharing, and if that meant he had to cook and clean to prevent Caelus from dying of food poisoning, so be it. After all, the Chrysos heirs had learned to take care of themselves, and Aglaea was very strict about discipline: their rooms had to be spotless and their meals had to be proper.
“I'm really sorry,” said Caelus, who was even more embarrassed. “I tried to make you some chocolate chip cookies, but... I must have messed up somewhere.”
Phainon promised himself that he would never taste Caelus's cooking, no matter what. He couldn't risk food poisoning preventing him from getting his revenge.
“I... stammered Caelus, you're not leaving right away, are you ?”
Phainon stared at his interlocutor for a few seconds. In the end, there might not be that much competition for the roommate spot, as Caelus's tidiness and culinary skills had probably already scared off all the other potential candidates.
“Please don't leave,” Caelus pleaded. “I even tried to bake you cookies to make you stay. Everyone else has already left!”
Phainon looked at Caelus cautiously for a few seconds. His roommate really seemed to be a hopeless case.
“I'll take care of dinner,” said Phainon. “I'm not a complete disaster in the kitchen. But you'll have to make an effort to tidy up your things better, because with everything lying around, we're both at risk of having an accident !”
“That means you agree to stay ! Finally, someone is willing to help me !”
Phaenon didn't have time to react before Caelus threw himself into his arms.
“You're my hero !” "
His roommate was definitely someone very special, and Phaenon still couldn't decide whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.