The flickering candlelight cast long shadows along the stone walls of Lucian's office. The room was quiet now, save for the rhythmic tapping of his fingers against the desk. The encounter with the Circle of the Silent Hand still lingered in his thoughts, their veiled threat hanging in the air like an unspoken challenge.
They wanted him to play by their rules.
He had refused.
And that refusal would have consequences.
Lucian had no illusions about the power the Circle wielded. They were not some petty organization clawing for scraps of influence. They were deeply embedded in the underbelly of Arkaris, their hands stretching into every sector of magic, politics, and crime. His rejection had likely set something into motion—something unseen, something inevitable.
But Lucian Vale was not a man who played defense.
If the Circle thought they could coerce him, they had gravely underestimated him.
A sharp knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. This one was different from the previous visitors. It was urgent, almost desperate. Lucian remained seated, his posture relaxed as he spoke.
"Enter."
The door swung open, and a young man stumbled in, drenched from the relentless rain outside. His clothes were soaked through, his boots tracking mud onto the floor, but it was his face that caught Lucian's attention. Panic. Fear.
"Please," the man gasped, doubling over as he tried to catch his breath. "I—I need your help!"
Lucian tilted his head slightly, observing the man with a calm, unreadable expression. "You're either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish to barge in here like this. Which is it?"
The young man straightened, his face pale and lined with stress. "I… I have nowhere else to turn. The debt collectors are after me. They say I owe them, but it's a setup. I swear, I never borrowed from them!"
Lucian leaned back, interlocking his fingers. "And why do you think that concerns me?"
"Because—" The man hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line before he forced himself to continue. "Because the Circle of the Silent Hand is involved. And because… I was told you were the only one who could fight back against them."
Lucian's eyes darkened slightly, though his expression remained carefully composed. The Circle was wasting no time. This was a message—a move on the board meant to test him.
"Tell me everything," Lucian ordered, his voice sharp.
The young man, still breathing heavily, nodded. "My name is Darius Veran. I run a small enchantment shop in the lower district. Two nights ago, a group of enforcers came to my shop and said I owed a significant debt. But that's impossible—I've never borrowed from them! They're lying, trying to force me into servitude."
Lucian nodded slowly. "And what did they want in return for 'clearing' your debt?"
Darius swallowed hard. "They want me to forge restricted enchantments for them. Illegal ones—binding sigils, untraceable tracking spells, and worse. If I refuse, they said they'll make sure I disappear."
A familiar game. The Circle was testing him, seeing how he would respond.
Lucian let out a slow breath, his fingers tapping against the desk. "They want to see if I'll interfere. If I let them take you, it sends a message that I know my limits. If I protect you… it's a declaration of war."
Darius stiffened. "So what will you do?"
Lucian stood, his chair sliding back with a quiet scrape against the floor. "I don't take kindly to being tested."
A flicker of hope flashed across Darius's face, but Lucian's expression remained cold. He wasn't doing this out of charity. If the Circle thought they could dictate his influence, they were mistaken. No one controlled Lucian Vale.
"Where did they say to meet?"
Darius hesitated. "They… they said if I didn't show up by midnight, they'd come for me."
Lucian checked the clock. 11:42 PM.
A slow smile formed on his lips. "Then let's not keep them waiting."
---
The Meeting Place: An Empty Warehouse
The warehouse was dimly lit, the flickering glow of arcane lanterns casting distorted shadows against the cracked walls. The air was thick with moisture, and the scent of damp wood and metal filled the space.
A group of five enforcers stood in the center of the room, their arms crossed, their expressions unreadable. They were dressed in dark, fitted armor reinforced with runic etchings—professionals, not common thugs.
In the middle of them stood their leader. A tall man with short silver hair, his features sharp and calculating. His presence exuded confidence, and the subtle smirk on his lips suggested he already believed he had won.
"Darius," the leader greeted, his voice smooth but laced with menace. "You're late."
Darius hesitated, but before he could speak, Lucian stepped forward, his presence immediately shifting the energy in the room.
The leader's smirk faltered slightly. "And you must be the infamous Broker of Power," he mused, folding his arms. "I was wondering if you'd involve yourself in this matter. That's a bold move, Lucian."
Lucian's expression was one of mild amusement. "I don't appreciate being tested."
The leader chuckled, shaking his head. "You misunderstand. This wasn't a test, Lucian. This was a lesson. You see, power—true power—doesn't come from lending skills or collecting debts. It comes from control. From knowing when to bend the knee."
Lucian exhaled slowly. "Bend the knee? To you?"
"To the Circle," the man corrected, his voice taking on a sharper edge. "You've built something impressive, but you're playing with fire. You don't seem to realize just how many forces are watching you, waiting for you to overstep."
Lucian's eyes darkened. "Then let me make this clear."
The room suddenly shifted as Lucian activated his Skill Lending ability—but not to lend. To take.
A ripple of magic pulsed through the air, and the enforcers immediately tensed as the leader staggered, his body reacting involuntarily as a fragment of his power was forcibly extracted.
The smirk vanished from his lips. Fear took its place.
Lucian took a slow step forward. "You came here thinking I was playing a game of influence," he said, his voice calm but cutting. "You were wrong. I don't play games. I make the rules."
The leader's breathing was uneven now, his fists clenched. "You don't know what you're doing," he growled. "The Circle—"
Lucian tilted his head slightly. "Tell your masters this: If they want war, they'll get one. But I promise you—they won't like the outcome."
A moment of silence stretched between them. Then, without another word, the leader motioned for his men to stand down.
"You've made a mistake, Lucian Vale," the leader warned, his voice filled with restrained fury. "You'll regret this."
Lucian's smile was cold. "We'll see."
With that, the Circle's enforcers vanished into the shadows, leaving Lucian and Darius standing alone in the warehouse.
Darius exhaled sharply, his body still tense. "That was—insane. They're not going to let this go."
Lucian's gaze remained fixed on the now-empty space where the enforcers had stood.
"They don't have a choice," he murmured. "Because I just made my first move."
And in Arkaris, the first move always dictated the course of the game.
---
End of Chapter 6