Zareth had shattered the hidden opposition within the city and sent a brutal message to the Dominion with the annihilation of their scouts. He had bought himself time, but not security.
He would not waste it.
The scent of burnt flesh still lingered in the streets, a testament to the price of defiance. The bodies of conspirators hung from the walls—silent warnings carved with Zareth's decree. But terror alone would not hold the city. He needed something more.
Standing atop the highest spire of the ruined citadel, Zareth surveyed his domain. The city had been a den of corruption under Dominion rule, its defenses neglected, its people divided by greed and fear. That would change.
The outer walls were thick but pockmarked with age, sections crumbling from years of disrepair. The inner city was a mess of tangled alleys, perfect for ambushes and insurrections. The military district held barracks and forges, but many were abandoned or barely functional.
Zareth turned to Veyron, who stood at his side. The strategist had proven competent, but his real test was only beginning.
"Catalog everything we can use," Zareth commanded. "Walls, forges, soldiers. I want a full report."
Veyron nodded. "It will take time."
"You have two days."
Veyron stiffened but did not argue. He had learned that failure had consequences.
Fear and brute force could keep a city in check, but Zareth needed loyalty—or at least discipline.
He issued his decree:
Every man and woman who wished to serve would be trained. They would fight, not for scraps, but for power. Aetherbrand mastery would be tested. Those with potential would be given the means to awaken their strength. Cowards and weaklings would be discarded. There was no place for mediocrity under his rule.
The first trials began that evening. Warriors, mercenaries, and desperate men seeking power lined the training grounds, unaware that most would not survive the coming days.
Zareth stood in the training yard, watching the first wave of recruits clash. Steel met steel in brutal, unrefined combat. Most were little more than brutes, relying on instinct and strength over skill.
That would change.
The first round of tests was simple—combat. No rules, no restraints. Only the strong would be allowed to continue. The second test was loyalty—Zareth demanded absolute obedience. Aetherbrand oaths would bind those he deemed worthy. Those who failed? They were given a choice—serve in lesser roles or be cast out. The corpses of those who resisted were already piling up.
But among the masses, a few stood out.
A former Dominion soldier, bitter and broken, yet his skill was undeniable. A mercenary, half-mad with ambition, whose Aetherbrand glowed with raw potential. A nameless warrior, fighting with a ferocity that reminded Zareth of himself.
Each had value. And each could be shaped into something greater.
As the city shifted under his rule, fate presented an unexpected offering.
Zareth found himself walking through the lower districts, where the desperate clung to the ruins of their old lives. Here, power was hidden beneath filth, waiting to be uncovered.
It was there that he saw them.
A fight had broken out in a nameless alley, a half-dozen men surrounding a lone figure. At first glance, it was a massacre waiting to happen. But then the lone warrior moved.
Their blade was swift—merciless. Aetherbrand flared at their fingertips. Each strike was precise, each movement honed by years of hardship. By the time Zareth approached, only corpses remained.
The warrior turned, wary. Their eyes held no fear—only defiance.
"Who are you?" Zareth asked, intrigued.
That was the moment a new piece entered his game.
News of Zareth's defiance had spread, but this time, there would be no delay.
The Dominion did not send another scout force. They sent judgment.
Kaldros had witnessed everything. The massacre of Dominion scouts. The brutal efficiency of Zareth's rule. He could have struck earlier. He did not. Why? The Dominion believed in absolute force—but they also believed in certainty.
If Kaldros moved, he would not fail.
But he was not moving yet.
Instead, the task of bringing Zareth to heel had been handed to another. Another Inquisitor party, led by a force not yet seen.
Why? Because Kaldros had something greater planned.
He is not absent—he is waiting. Watching how Zareth grows, understanding his patterns. He does not waste time with tests. If he comes, it will be for total eradication. The Dominion is using another force first. A powerful but lesser Inquisitor, meant to gauge how far Zareth has come.
And so, a new enemy approaches.