The flames still flickered across the remains of Governor Aldric’s estate, casting eerie shadows against the night sky. The stench of blood and burning wood filled the air. Cedric Alistair, Captain of the Royal Knights, stood amidst the carnage, his piercing blue eyes scanning the destruction. He had seen war, he had seen battlefields, but this—this was different. This was a statement.

  His gaze settled on the parchment left atop Aldric’s lifeless chest. The corrupt will fall. The reckoning has begun.

  The handwriting was elegant, yet the words dripped with venom. This was not the work of a mindless killer. This was the work of a mastermind.

  A faint noise from above snapped Cedric’s attention. His instincts screamed at him. He turned sharply, sword raised, just in time to see a cloaked figure perched upon the balcony, a masked phantom against the firelit backdrop.

  Lucian Valtheron.

  But Cedric did not know his name yet.

  “You did this,” Cedric stated, voice calm despite the fury bubbling beneath. He took a step forward, sword gleaming under the moonlight. “Face me.”

  Lucian did not move. The mask covering his face was smooth, black as midnight, with only slits for his eyes. His posture was relaxed, almost as if he found amusement in Cedric’s challenge.

  “The kingdom’s finest knight,” Lucian spoke, voice deep yet smooth, like a serpent whispering in the dark. “Tell me, Sir Cedric, do you truly believe you serve justice?”

  Cedric’s grip on his sword tightened. “Justice is not for murderers to decide.”

  Lucian chuckled, stepping forward onto the railing. “Murderer? No. Executioner.” He tilted his head. “How many innocent families have suffered while men like Aldric lined their pockets? How many more will suffer under your so-called kingdom?”

  “I don’t justify corruption,” Cedric said coldly. “But this—this slaughter—”

  “This was necessary,” Lucian interrupted, his voice sharp. “And it is only the beginning.”

  Cedric had heard enough. With a burst of speed, he leaped onto the balcony, slashing toward the masked figure. But Lucian was already moving. He ducked under the blade, twisting with fluid precision before flipping backward off the railing.

  Cedric followed, landing heavily in the courtyard below, but Lucian had already vanished into the smoke.

  A phantom in the night.

  Elsewhere, in the hidden underground tunnels beneath the city, Lucian removed his mask, revealing sharp, calculating eyes. Around him, his most trusted followers stood in silence, awaiting his words. Among them was Darius, a former scholar turned rebel strategist, and Selene, a former noblewoman whose family had been executed for opposing the crown.

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  “The attack was a success,” Lucian said, pacing slowly. “Aldric is dead, and fear has begun to spread among the corrupt.”

  “But the Royal Knights will tighten security,” Darius interjected. “Cedric Alistair won’t stop until he finds you.”

  Lucian smirked. “Good.”

  Selene frowned. “You want him to come after you?”

  Lucian turned to her, eyes gleaming with dangerous intent. “Cedric is more than a soldier. He’s a man who still believes in honor, in righteousness. If I can make him doubt—if I can plant the seed of disillusionment—then I have already won.”

  Darius nodded, understanding. “You want him to see the corruption firsthand.”

  “Exactly,” Lucian said. “The people are angry, but anger without direction is meaningless. We will give them something to believe in.” He looked around at his gathered allies. “Tomorrow, we take the first step toward dismantling the foundation of this rotten kingdom.”

  As predicted, Cedric intensified the city patrols. Guards doubled, checkpoints were placed, and informants were bribed to gather information. Yet, Lucian remained a ghost, always one step ahead.

  And then, the trap was set.

  A week later, a noble caravan transporting weapons and gold for the Royal Treasury was scheduled to leave the city under heavy guard. It was bait Lucian could not ignore.

  Under the cover of night, the rebels struck. Explosions rocked the streets, carriages toppled, and soldiers fell to hidden blades. Cedric, leading the defense, fought fiercely, his sword cutting down masked assailants.

  And then, in the chaos, he saw him.

  Lucian stood atop the wreckage, mask in place, watching Cedric with an almost intrigued expression.

  Cedric charged, swinging his sword with unrelenting force. Lucian parried, their blades clashing in a flurry of sparks. Cedric was skilled—faster, stronger. But Lucian was precise, every movement calculated. He didn’t need to overpower Cedric.

  He only needed to outthink him.

  A momentary feint—a misdirection.

  Cedric’s sword struck air, and in that brief second, Lucian slipped behind him, striking with the hilt of his blade.

  Pain exploded in Cedric’s ribs as he staggered. But he recovered swiftly, turning to strike again—only to find Lucian gone.

  The rebels had disappeared into the shadows.

  And once again, the masked phantom had eluded him.

  By morning, the city was in uproar. The attack on the treasury had sent shockwaves through the ruling elite. Whispers of ‘The Reckoning’ spread like wildfire. Fear gripped the nobility.

  King Aldebrand himself summoned Cedric.

  Inside the grand halls of the palace, Cedric kneeled before the throne. The king, a man well past his prime, observed him with cold calculation.

  “This masked traitor must be found and executed,” the king commanded. “No matter the cost.”

  Cedric met his gaze. “He is not an ordinary rebel, Your Majesty. He’s intelligent, strategic. He is uniting the people.”

  “Then crush them,” the king snarled. “Burn the districts harboring these criminals. Hang the sympathizers.”

  Cedric hesitated. He had sworn to protect the kingdom. But was this still the kingdom he had pledged loyalty to?

  Lucian’s words echoed in his mind. Do you truly believe you serve justice?

  For the first time, doubt crept into the knight’s heart.

  As Cedric wrestled with his conscience, Lucian prepared for the next phase. The people were ready. The aristocracy was scared. The time to strike was near.

  But the greatest battle was yet to come.

  And in the end, only one of them would stand.