169 THE TRAITOR
Juggler's eyes widened in terror.
Gravity …was his own weapon…. now the same was turned against him. He had killed countless others with it, never imagining it would be the cause of his own death.
"Please… spare me," he choked out.
"Who sent you?" Damen's voice burned with fury. "Who ordered you to kill us?"
Juggler's body trembled violently in Damen's grasp, his face reddening as he struggled for breath.
Damen saw it—the raw, helpless fear in the man's eyes. If Juggler truly knew anything, he would have spoken by now.
He didn't.
He really didn't.
"I… I don't know…" Juggler gasped.
"I believe you," Damen whispered. His grip loosened for an instant… mercy flickering like a dying spark.
"Spare me", Juggler pleaded helplessly.
Then his eyes hardened. "This man wouldn't hesitate to kill me if our roles were reversed."
"Well then," Damen said coldly, tightening his grip again, "just die."
He no longer cared about the truth.
Damen tightened his grip, ready to crush Juggler's throat, when the dying man screamed,
"It's the Syndic of Fracture…!"
The respond surprised Damen. When he was about to give up, Juggler volunteered to reply.
The name though made Damen pause for half a heartbeat — then his eyes hardened. No further explanation was needed. He drained the last of Juggler's energy into himself; the man's body convulsed, his veins glowing faintly.
"Your reply is too late, Juggler."
With a sharp twist, Damen snapped his neck. The body went limp, falling like a broken puppet.
When Damen's boots touched the ground, the battlefield was already in chaos. The others who had fought beside Juggler — mercenaries and killers from the same fold — were running for their lives.
Damen didn't bother chasing them. His eyes were fixed on the lake.
The boat drifted quietly under the pale light, its reflection trembling on the water. Zairgid lay sprawled across the deck, motionless.
Damen rose into the air, his boots whispering with static, and glided toward it.
"Wake up, buddy," he said softly as he landed beside him.
-----
Zairgid woke in a hospital bed.
He could feel the aftershocks of Moody's psychic lash — a fog in his skull, shards of sound and feeling that didn't belong to him.
It took him a long time to realize the room was real.
When his eyes opened, his friends crowded the foot of the bed.
"My head… what happened?" he asked, his voice rough.
"The girl you were chasing tried to control you," Kail said flatly. "Mind control."
"What? Weira — how is that even possible?" Zairgid croaked.
"She's a psychic," Damen cut in. "A killer working for the Syndic of Fracture. There were two other Rank-B metas and a pack of thugs with them. If I hadn't followed you, you'd be dead."
"Two Rank Bs?" Zairgid's eyes went wide. "Did you beat them?"
Kail smirked. "Of course. Big Brother is the strongest Rank B in the world."
Liorea glanced at Damen. "Boss, you're already Rank B?"
Damen nodded. After draining the three Rank-B metas, his own meta rank had climbed to B.
Damen folded his arms. "What is the Syndic of Fracture, and why are they after you?"
Zairgid looked genuinely puzzled.
"The Syndic of Fracture," Liorea said, "is a killers' syndicate in Silver City. They specialize in corporate hits."
"Corporate hits?" Damen raised an eyebrow.
"You know—murders tied to business disputes. Subordinates eliminating superiors, staged accidents, market collapses that 'happen' to rivals, that kind of things," Liorea explained.
"Who'd place a hit on you?" Damen asked.
Zairgid swallowed. "The only person who wants me dead in this city is my uncle, Arom."
The room went quiet.
Liorea's face hardened. "Then it's him."
"How dare he," Zairgid growled, heat rising in his chest.
"He probably thinks your digging into his embezzlement is a problem, killing you is the solution," Liorea said.
"I'll kill that bastard," Zairgid said, the promise low and dangerous.
------
Arom looked around carefully, scanning the ceiling corners for cameras. He knew where every lens was — after all, he'd designed the blind spots himself when he renovated the auction house.
He slipped into a dead-end corridor no one ever loitered in.
With a press of a hidden remote, a section of wall hissed open, revealing a concealed elevator. Arom stepped in, and the wall sealed shut behind him.
The elevator descended silently, deep beneath the Aukouma Building.
When the doors slid open, he stepped into a sleek underground suite — his real office. The air hummed faintly with the pulse of machinery.
He approached a secure chamber and keyed in a sequence. The door unlocked, revealing rows of stacked aur cards, data servers, and a glowing aur bank — the digital vault where he hid the funds siphoned from company accounts.
"Damn it," he muttered while recharging several aur cards. "Why don't that bastard die. Looks like I'll have to top up the contract."
Arom had been the one who placed the kill order on Zairgid through the Syndic of Fracture.
It was a risky move, but he had no choice because Zairgid is already collecting incriminating evidence on him. Now that the first assassination attempt failed, to keep Zairgid from talking, he had to pay more.
He walked to the vault door, when suddenly-
POP! POP! POP!
Colored streamers exploded in his face. Arom flinched back in shock.
"What the—?"
"Congratulations, Uncle Arom," said a familiar voice.
Zairgid stood in the doorway, flanked by Kassely and surrounded by corporate security and senior executives. The sight froze Arom in place.
"What are you doing here?" he stammered. "Why congratulate me?"
Zairgid smiled coldly. "Congratulations on your new position… in prison."
The guards stepped forward, their guns drawn.
"How dare you arrest me! I'm your uncle!" Arom roared, backing against the vault wall.
Kassely's voice was calm and precise. "Vice Chairman, we have overwhelming evidence of your embezzlement of company's funds and your attempt to murder the Acting CEO."
"You—traitor!" Arom spat at her.
Kassely had been his confidant, his right hand in the company.
"What crime are you accusing me of?"
Zairgid stepped closer, his voice sharp as glass. "Embezzlement from the construction budget. Receiving kickbacks from suppliers. And…" he let the words hang, "…illegally inflating auction prices to rig bids."
Arom's face went pale. "No! That last one—I never did that!"