The speech had done its job almost too well. The crowd was a roaring, seething mass of energy, their cries of defiance echoing through the square like a storm. But it wasn’t long before the distant clatter of armor and the rhythmic thud of boots on cobblestones signaled the arrival of soldiers from the direction of the castle. Time was up. There was nothing more to be done here.

  Isla stepped forward, her hands moving in fluid, practiced motions as she wove an illusion spell. The air around us shimmered, distorting like heat rising from the ground, and the crowd’s attention shifted, their eyes glazing over as the magic took hold. To them, we were no longer there, just shadows, fleeting and unimportant. It was enough to buy us the time we needed to slip away unnoticed.

  We moved quickly, weaving through the narrow alleys and side streets until we reached the entrance to the sewers. The others were waiting for us here.

  The heavy iron grate was rusted and half-buried under debris, but it gave way with a groan as we pried it open. The stench hit me immediately, a thick, oppressive wave of rot and decay that made my stomach churn. I grimaced, pulling the collar of my cloak over my nose, though it did little to help.

  “Now the fun part begins,” I muttered under my breath, earning a few dry chuckles from the others.

  As we descended into the darkness, the faint glow of Isla’s light spell guiding our way, I couldn’t help but hope that no one had super smell as a skill. If they did, we were in for a very unpleasant surprise.

  The trek through the sewers was a grim march through ankle-deep muck, the air thick with the stench of decay. Isla’s light flickered against the slime-coated walls, casting eerie shadows. Rats scurried past our boots, and the distant drip of water echoed like a ticking clock. After what felt like hours, we reached a rusted ladder leading upward. Climbing cautiously, we emerged into a dimly lit cellar beneath the castle.

  It took what felt like an eternity for everyone to exit the narrow sewer corridors, the space barely wide enough for one person at a time. Isla had two dozen people to lead on her diversion mission, and as the last of them climbed out, she paused at the cellar door, glancing back at us one final time. Her expression was unreadable, but the weight of the moment hung heavy in the air.

  “It was nice working with you, Isla,” Amra said, her tone carrying an unspoken finality.

  “Hey, a little optimism, please,” I countered, trying to lighten the mood, though my voice lacked conviction.

  Isla gave a solemn nod, her gaze lingering for a moment before she turned and stepped through the door. The plan was to wait for her team to get into position, which meant we had a few minutes to spare. The cellar was quiet, the only sound the faint drip of water echoing from the sewers below.

  “Too bad she can’t join our group,” I muttered to no one in particular. “We need every heavy hitter we can get.”

  Amra turned to Corvin, her voice low but firm. “You’ll have to step up your game. Use that bracer to its fullest potential.”

  I raised an eyebrow, surprised. From the tidbits I’d gathered over the weeks, I’d assumed Bendis was the best fighter and would be the one to wield the artifact. The bracer amplified power based on the strength of its wearer, and while Isla wasn’t the most powerful, her role in the diversion was critical. Still, I couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

  As the others began to file out of the cellar, Corvin taking the lead, I leaned closer to Amra and whispered, “I thought Bendis would take the artifact.”

  She leaned in as well, her voice barely audible. “Even Bendis agreed the element of surprise is more important. You’ll keep the Emperor occupied, and Corvin will strike when the time is right.”

  I nodded, though I wasn’t entirely convinced. It made sense, but I would’ve preferred having two people there to split the Emperor’s attention during the fight.

  The signal came, a faint whistle echoing through the corridors, and we began to move. Soon, faint noises reached my ears. Shouts, the clang of metal, the distant roar of chaos. The distraction was in place, and the pace quickened. Our group walked the fine line between speed and stealth, each of us acutely aware that one misstep could mean disaster.

  I hadn’t been part of the final planning meetings over the last few days. Apparently, my recent actions hadn’t exactly made me the most popular among the resistance. It seemed they had decided thirteen people were enough for the hit squad. Thank the gods I wasn’t superstitious, though even I would’ve added one more to our numbers. I mean, in a world where gods and magic were undeniably real, why tempt fate?

  As we moved, I glanced around at the faces in our group. Besides Bendis and Corvin, I didn’t recognize any of the resistance members. A pang of guilt hit me. Here we were, about to risk our lives together, and I didn’t even know their names. The truth was, I’d been so consumed with the tournament and my own turmoil that I hadn’t taken the time to get to know them. Even the twins, who had been around for weeks, remained a mystery to me. One of them was right in front of me now, their movements fluid and silent, but I couldn’t tell which one it was.

  It was a strange feeling, fighting alongside people I barely knew, trusting them with my life while knowing so little about theirs. But there was no time for introductions now.

  The corridors began to widen, their high ceilings and ornate decorations signaling that we were nearing the heart of the castle. Either we were incredibly lucky, or the path had been meticulously planned, because we hadn’t encountered a single guard. A sudden raised hand brought us to a halt, and silence fell over the group. In the stillness, the sound of distant footsteps and shouts reached even my unenhanced ears. The commotion was growing louder, and it was clear the diversion was working.

  When the signal came to move again, we pressed forward, and soon a grand hall came into view through a set of towering, open doors. The noise from within was chaotic—shouts, demands, and the clatter of armor echoing off the walls. Strangely, there were no guards stationed outside the hall. Either we’d lucked out, or we’d severely overestimated the castle’s defenses.

  As I drew closer, I realized we were standing at the entrance to the throne room. Inside, the scene was one of utter panic. Nobles, advisors, and officials were shouting over one another, their voices rising in a cacophony of fear and frustration. They were demanding the Emperor show himself, desperate for reassurance. It was clear they had tied their fortunes to his, and the thought of a change in leadership was enough to send them into a frenzy. Even our entrance—disheveled, armed, and clearly out of place—didn’t immediately draw attention. We were invisible in the chaos.

  The guards inside the throne room were a stark contrast to the drab, uniformed soldiers we’d encountered earlier in the streets. These were elite, their armor personalized and tailored to their abilities. Some wore lightweight cloth, others heavy plate, but all shared a common blue motif woven into their designs. They were the Emperor’s personal guard, and their presence was a reminder of the challenge ahead.

  Bendis’s voice cut through my thoughts, low and urgent. “Sedeus isn’t here. His private chambers are behind the throne, to the right. Follow Corvin. We’ll create another distraction here.”

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  I hesitated, glancing at her. Just two people against the Emperor? It didn’t seem like enough. But there was no time to argue. Bendis had already turned away, her focus shifting to the chaos in the throne room. I moved to the side, staying out of sight as the resistance members prepared to unleash whatever plan they had in mind.

  As I slipped toward the hidden door behind the throne, my hands began to tremble ever so slightly. I stared at my palm, willing it to steady, but the faint sheen of sweat glistening on my skin betrayed my nerves. It hit me that my last encounter with a god had ended in survival, but only by sheer luck. Luck wasn’t something I could count on twice.

  Until now, I’d told myself I could always portal out if Sedeus proved too powerful. It was my escape plan, my safety net. But now, with so many people counting on me to hold the line until reinforcements arrived, that option felt like a betrayal. Could I really abandon them to the Emperor’s mercy? The thought twisted in my chest, sharp and unrelenting. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, each pulse a reminder of the stakes.

  A sudden shout snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts. Behind me, the throne room had erupted into chaos. The first victims of the fight were already falling, their bodies crumpling to the floor as the resistance clashed with the Emperor’s elite guards. Panic spread like wildfire, nobles and officials pushing and shoving in a desperate bid to escape. But with guards on one side and resistance fighters on the other, the room had become a death trap. The air was thick with screams, the clash of steel, and the sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground.

  A hand landed on my shoulder, firm but reassuring. I turned to see Corvin standing beside me, his expression calm despite the surrounding chaos. He must have noticed my hesitation, because he offered a faint smile, a silent gesture of encouragement. Then his gaze shifted to the hidden door, his focus sharp and unwavering.

  Taking the first step was the hardest. My legs felt like lead, every instinct screaming at me to turn back. But with each step that followed, the weight seemed to lift, my resolve hardening. By the time I crossed the threshold into the dark corridor beyond, my breathing had steadied, and my hands no longer shook. The corridor was narrow, its walls lined with intricate carvings that seemed to shift in the dim light. At the end of it was a lavish room, its opulence a stark contrast to the violence we’d left behind.

  I glanced over my shoulder, expecting to see Corvin at my side, but the corridor was empty. I realized then that the artifact he wore must have enhanced even his stealth abilities. For a moment, I felt a pang of unease at being alone, but there was no time to dwell on it. The room ahead awaited, and with it, the Emperor.

  As I stepped inside, gilded walls reflected the warm glow of enchanted lanterns, their light dancing across tapestries woven with scenes of conquest and power. A massive chandelier hung from the ceiling, its crystals casting a blue light across the room. Guess he really liked the color blue. At the far end stood a grand canopy bed, its curtains drawn, and beside it, a desk cluttered with scrolls and strange artifacts. The air was thick with the scent of incense, its sweet, smoky tendrils masking something else—something sharper, metallic, almost like the tang of blood. It was faint, but unmistakable, and it set my nerves on edge.

  “I said I was not to be disturbed,” a voice echoed from the direction of the bed, low and dripping with irritation. It was a voice accustomed to command, to being obeyed without question.

  I took a cautious step closer, my boots silent against the plush carpet. Through the translucent curtains that draped the bed, I could make out the figure of a man sitting on the edge, his posture relaxed but his attention fixed on something or someone lying in the center of the bed. Another step, and the scene came into clearer focus.

  A woman lay on the bed, her body unnaturally still. Her head was turned to the side, her lifeless eyes staring blankly in my direction. Her skin was pale, almost ghostly in the dim light, and her dark hair fanned out around her like a shadowy halo. The first thought that struck me was how much she resembled Bendis—the same sharp features, the same blue eyes. My heart lurched, a cold wave of panic rising in my chest, but I forced it down. I had just seen Bendis in the throne room. This wasn’t her. It couldn’t be.

  Reluctantly, I dragged my gaze away from the woman and focused on the man. He was in his forties, his face sharp and angular, with a strong jawline and a nose that looked like it had been broken at least once. His dark hair was streaked with silver, and his expression was one of cold detachment as he stared at the dead woman. His profile was illuminated by the faint glow of the enchanted lanterns, casting deep shadows across his face. He wore a finely tailored robe of deep crimson, the fabric shimmering faintly as he shifted, but there was nothing soft or comforting about his presence. He exuded power, control, and a chilling indifference to the tragedy lying before him.

  For a moment, I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. So this was Sedeus, the Emperor, the demi-god. My hands clenched into fists, the earlier fear that had gripped me now giving way to a simmering anger. He was distracted, I told myself, forcing my body into action. This was my chance. I began to raise my hand, summoning everything I had for an attack, but before I could act, his head snapped toward me, his eyes locking onto mine.

  It was his turn to panic, or so I thought. His eyes darted between me and the lifeless body on the bed, his expression a mix of confusion and defiance. “She betrayed me,” he said, his voice low but trembling with emotion. “I loved her. I even helped her ascend, and she repaid me by betraying me. She deserved to die.” He rose from the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, his gaze finally tearing away from her.

  Okay, so he wasn’t all there, or at least, he had issues. My first instinct was to strike, to unleash everything I had before he could react. But what if that only snapped him out of whatever delusion or trance he was in? I hesitated, my eyes flicking back to the girl. She was dressed in simple farmer’s clothes, the same kind I’d seen on my way to the city. There was no way she was the one who had betrayed him. Maybe, just maybe, a little psychological trauma could work in my favor here.

  “You just killed an innocent girl,” I said, keeping my tone neutral. I didn’t want to risk triggering any sudden, violent reactions.

  His eyes snapped back to me, then to the girl, his confidence wavering. “No… she betrayed me. Didn’t she?” This time, his voice lacked the certainty it had held moments before.

  “Look at her,” I pressed, raising my voice slightly. “She was a farmer. She had nothing to do with you.”

  “No!” he screamed, his voice cracking with desperation. “She betrayed me!” But the conviction was gone, replaced by something raw and unstable. His hands clenched at his sides, his breathing ragged, his hands clutching at his head. He was unraveling, and I had to decide whether to press further or strike while he was vulnerable.

  A shadow emerged from behind Sedeus, swift and silent, and a dagger plunged into his neck. He let out a guttural scream, more rage than pain, as Corvin yanked the blade free to strike again. But before the second blow could land, Sedeus’s hand shot up, catching Corvin’s wrist with terrifying ease. The dagger hung in the air, frozen, as Sedeus’s grip tightened.

  I raised my hand, summoning a spell, but Sedeus moved faster than I could react. I activated my Slow Time spell, the world around me grinding to a crawl, yet even then, his movements were almost too quick to follow. Corvin struggled, his free hand clawing at Sedeus’s grip, but when brute force failed, he shifted into shadow, his form dissolving into darkness. For a moment, it seemed like he might escape.

  But Sedeus wasn’t done. His now free hand glowed with a blinding light, and with a single, decisive motion, he thrust it into the shadows. The light flared, and Corvin’s form solidified, his shadowy escape dispelled as if it were nothing. Sedeus’s hand now gripped Corvin’s neck, his fingers digging in with crushing force.

  I fired a lightning bolt into Sedeus’s back, the spell striking with a deafening crack. The red fabric of his tunic disintegrated at the point of impact, revealing charred, blackened skin beneath. But all it earned me was a low growl, more annoyance than pain. He didn’t even flinch. My eyes moved to his neck. Blood trickled from the wound, but it was barely bleeding, already healing. Of course, he had some kind of self-regeneration. Why wouldn’t he?

  Corvin’s struggles were growing weaker, his movements sluggish. Desperation clawed at me as I began casting a Chaos Orb, hoping its unpredictable nature might do what my lightning couldn’t. But before I could finish, Sedeus turned to face me, still holding Corvin by the neck like a shield. His struggles had nearly ceased, his body going limp.

  In a last-ditch effort, I summoned a black hole to Sedeus’s side, the gravitational pull warping the air around it. But he didn’t budge—not an inch. It was as if he were bolted to the ground, utterly unmovable.

  He smiled then, but it was a cold, empty thing, devoid of any real emotion. His eyes never left mine as his hand tightened around Corvin’s neck. There was a sickening crunch, and Corvin’s body went completely still. Sedeus opened his hand, and Corvin’s lifeless form crumpled to the ground, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle.

  I didn’t need to check for a pulse. The way he lay there, broken and unmoving, told me everything I needed to know. Corvin was gone. And Sedeus was still standing, his gaze fixed on me, his smile never wavering.