The Dark Warlock's Game

Chapter 40: Staying in the Dark

Zayn stood alone, after everyone had left after their heated argument.

 He stared at the map on the table, his mind racing.

A shadow moved behind him, and he turned quickly, his hand on the hilt of his blade.

“It’s just me,” Marcus said, stepping into the light.

Zayn relaxed slightly but didn’t let his guard down. “What do you want?”

Marcus studied him for a moment before speaking. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Zayn.”

“Someone has to,” Zayn replied.

Marcus tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “You think you can take Dean’s place?”

“I think someone needs to step up,” Zayn said.

Marcus nodded slowly. “Be careful. Ambition can get you killed.”

Zayn smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “So can blind loyalty.”

Marcus sniffed but didn't say much again, he stayed quiet staring straight at Zayn.

---

It had been days since Vardy’s ambushes began, and the city’s underworld was reeling. Supply routes were disrupted, safe houses raided, and whispers of the Dud’s growing power spread like wildfire everywhere.

In a crumbling warehouse near the docks, a group of smugglers moved round in whispers.

“He hit another shipment,” one of them said, slamming his fist on the table. His face was gaunt, his eyes darting around the room. “We’ve lost three routes this week alone!”

“And you think Dean doesn’t know?” another spat, her voice sharp. “He’s furious. You think he’ll let us live if this keeps happening?”

The room fell silent, the weight of her words sinking in.

“We need to send word,” the first man said. “Tell Dean we need more men.”

“More men won’t stop him,” a third voice said from the shadows. The speaker stepped forward, his face partially obscured by the hood of his cloak. “This Dud... he’s not like us. He doesn’t fight fair.”

“Then how do we stop him?” the woman asked, her voice trembling.

The hooded man smirked, his expression cold. “We don’t. Dean does.”

---

In the heart of Haven City, Dean sat in his private chambers.

His jaw was clenched, his hands resting on the edge of the table as he studied the red lines marking disrupted supply routes.

The door creaked open behind him, and Marcus stepped inside, his footsteps swift. “He’s making a fool of us,” Marcus said, his tone calm.

Dean didn’t look up. “He’s making a fool of you,” he replied coldly.

Marcus stiffened but said nothing.

Dean straightened, his piercing gaze locking onto Marcus. “How many men have we lost?”

“Too many,” Marcus admitted. “And morale is slipping. The men are starting to think the Dud is unstoppable.”

Dean’s expression darkened. “Then it’s time we remind them who runs this city.”

Marcus hesitated. “What do you have in mind?”

Dean turned back to the map, his finger tracing a line toward the northern districts. “Mercenaries. The best money can buy. If my men can’t handle him, I’ll find people who can.”

“And if that doesn’t work?” Marcus asked cautiously.

Dean walked towards him as Marcus stepped back, swallowing hard.

Dean's hand landed on his neck, dragging him to the wall close by, sniffing him as though to devour him.

“I'm still Dean…” he shot, his eyes almost red.

Marcus swallowed hard, and nodded slightly just so Dean could leave him alone.

Then Dean’s lips curled into a faint smirk. “It will.”

Meanwhile, In the dimly lit tavern near the edge of the slums, a group of mercenaries gathered around a table laden with drinks and half-eaten meals.

“So, what’s the job?” a broad-shouldered man asked, leaning back in his chair. His voice was deep, his tone laced with boredom.

Across from him, a wiry man with a scar running down his cheek smirked. “Something big. Dean’s got a bounty out on the Dud. You know, the one stirring up all the trouble.”

The broad-shouldered man raised an eyebrow. “The Dud? Thought he was just a story.”

“He’s real,” the scarred man replied. “And Dean’s paying a fortune to anyone who brings him down.”

A woman with silver hair and a faintly glowing blade strapped to her back leaned forward, her eyes glinting with interest. “A fortune, you say? Enough to make it worth the risk?”

“More than worth it,” the scarred man said, his grin widening. “But don’t get cocky. This Dud’s no ordinary target. He’s got some... tricks.”

“I like a challenge,” the silver-haired woman said, a smirk tugging at her lips.

**

Vardy and his group moved through the shadowed alleys of Haven City, their movements quick.

The city was restless, the tension in the air was evident as Dean’s men scrambled to regain control.

“We hit them again tonight,” Vardy said, his voice steady. His staff glowed faintly in his hand, the artifact’s whispers a constant presence in his mind.

“Another supply run?” Ferah asked, her sword resting on her shoulder.

Vardy nodded. “They’re weaker than ever. We need to keep the pressure on.”

“And what happens when they stop running?” Tracy asked, her tone sharp.

Vardy glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “Then we take the fight to Dean himself.”

Luthor shifted nervously, his dagger clutched tightly in his hand. “That’s... ambitious.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Vardy replied. “Dean won’t stop until we’re all dead. If we don’t act now, we’ll lose what little advantage we have.”

Selene, who had been trailing behind the group, smirked faintly. “Bold plan. I like it.”

“This isn’t about boldness,” Vardy said, his tone colder now. “It’s about survival.”

---

In another part of the city, a merchant packed up his stall under the watchful eyes of two of Dean’s men. The merchant’s hands trembled as he loaded crates into a cart, his eyes darting toward the shadows.

“Hurry up,” one of the men barked, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

“I’m going as fast as I can,” the merchant stammered, sweat dripping down his face.

The second man sneered. “You’d better. Dean doesn’t take kindly to delays.”

The merchant nodded quickly, his heart pounding as he worked.

From the shadows, a pair of glowing eyes watched silently.

Later that night, the mercenaries gathered in a decrepit building near the docks, their weapons gleaming in the moonlight as they prepared for their mission.

The silver-haired woman stood at the center of the room, her voice calm but commanding. “You all know the plan. We hit him hard, fast, and without hesitation. The Dud may have his tricks, but he’s just one man. Remember that.”

“And if he’s not alone?” the broad-shouldered man asked, his tone skeptical.

“Then we deal with his friends first,” the woman replied, her eyes cold. “No loose ends.”

Just then, laugh erupts from a man sitting by a corner, “wait!” He began, “is it what I am thinking? You guys want to get the dud for the dean?” He laughed harder.

“What do you mean?” The woman asked, almost getting angry.

“I wish you luck, you think the Dud is just anyhow person uh?” The man said.

“Ignore him!’ The woman said, and turned to leave with the others with her.

---

At the edge of the city, Vardy and his group waited, their eyes fixed on a small warehouse surrounded by Dean’s men.

“Six guards,” Ferah whispered, her sword at the ready.

“Too many for a direct approach,” Tracy said, her spear glinting faintly in the moonlight.

Vardy nodded, his mind racing. The artifact’s whispers grew louder, urging him forward, promising strength and clarity. “We split up. Ferah, take the left. Tracy, the right. Selene and I will move through the center.”

“And me?” Luthor asked nervously.

“Stay back,” Vardy said. “We’ll need you if things go wrong.”

Luthor nodded quickly, relief flickering across his face.

“Move,” Vardy ordered, his voice low but firm.

The group moved as one, their movements silent and precise.

Inside the warehouse, the guards stood in uneasy silence, their hands resting on their weapons.

“Have you heard about the bounty?” one of them asked, his voice breaking the quiet.

“Everyone’s heard,” another replied. “But it won’t matter. The Dud’s a dead man walking.”

“Are you sure about that?” the first guard asked, his tone uncertain.

The second guard didn’t respond, his grip tightening on his sword.

Vardy watched the guards, his staff glowing faintly in his hand. He raised his free hand, signaling to the others.

Ferah struck first, her blade slicing through the air.

Tracy followed, her spear driving into the chest of another guard before he could react.

Chaos erupted as the remaining guards stood up to defend themselves.

Vardy stepped forward, the artifact’s energy surging around him. He raised his staff, sending a wave of dark magic toward the nearest guard. The man cried out as the energy struck him, his body collapsing to the ground.

Selene moved beside him, her daggers flashing as she cut through him again, and make sure he wasn't breathing.

Within moments, the warehouse was silent again.

“Well done guys,” Vardy acknowledged, with a smile.