Vale and Lyn left Enforcer Headquarters under a darkening sky.

  Torches lit the main streets now, soldiers posted at intersections while patrols marched in doubled numbers. The city felt tighter than before, as if every district held its breath, waiting for something worse.

  Lyn walked beside him in silence for a while.

  Then—

  “So,” she said finally, “how bad is it?”

  Vale glanced at her.

  “You heard most of it.”

  “Not the part you didn’t say.”

  He exhaled slowly.

  “The city isn’t losing to monsters.”

  She frowned.

  “Then what?”

  “Fear.”

  They passed a row of closed shops turned into temporary shelters. Families crowded inside, cooking over small fires while children slept wrapped in blankets on stone floors.

  Vale continued quietly.

  “Monsters outside create pressure. Authority users inside fight over control. Supplies run short. Trust disappears.”

  Lyn watched a group of soldiers escorting arrested looters past.

  “And then?”

  “Then cities collapse without needing to be conquered.”

  She grimaced.

  “That’s comforting.”

  “It isn’t meant to be.”

  They reached a small square where refugees from their caravan had settled. Marrow sat beside a fire, speaking with hunters while distributing what little food they had managed to secure.

  The old man noticed them immediately.

  “You’re alive,” Marrow said dryly. “That’s good.”

  Lyn dropped beside the fire.

  “Barely.”

  Marrow’s gaze shifted to Vale.

  “Word spreads fast. People say you stopped Authority users fighting.”

  Vale frowned.

  “People exaggerate.”

  Marrow shook his head.

  “People need stories right now. Heroes. Villains. Someone to blame or believe in.”

  Vale didn’t like either option.

  The elder poked at the fire thoughtfully.

  “Soldiers were asking about you.”

  Vale stiffened slightly.

  “What kind of asking?”

  “The careful kind,” Marrow said. “Who you travel with. Where you’re staying. What you want.”

  Lyn muttered, “Famous already.”

  Vale rubbed his temple.

  “Great.”

  Silence settled briefly.

  Then Marrow leaned forward.

  “You’re going to get pulled into this city’s politics, aren’t you?”

  Vale didn’t answer immediately.

  He watched refugees sharing thin soup nearby, exhaustion etched into every face.

  Watched children trying to play despite hunger.

  Watched soldiers arguing with merchants over supply wagons.

  Finally, he said:

  “Looks that way.”

  Marrow sighed.

  “Then you should understand who’s pulling the strings.”

  Vale met his gaze.

  “I’m listening.”

  The elder gestured around them.

  “This city doesn’t belong to one ruler anymore. Three powers run it now.”

  Vale nodded slightly.

  “The Enforcer mentioned factions.”

  Marrow counted on his fingers.

  “First: Iron Crown. Military command. Control city defenses. Believe strict rule keeps people alive.”

  Vale remembered the armored Authority wielder.

  Order through force.

  Marrow continued.

  “Second: Freewind Circle. Authority users and citizens who think the military’s choking the city. They want freedom restored.”

  The wind-user.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Chaos disguised as liberation.

  “And third,” Marrow said grimly, “Merchant Consortium.”

  Vale already disliked the sound of that.

  “They control food,” Marrow continued. “Trade. Supply. They decide who eats.”

  Lyn blinked.

  “So merchants are running the city?”

  Marrow nodded.

  “Armies need food. Authority users need supplies. Refugees need both.”

  Vale exhaled quietly.

  Meaning whoever controlled supplies controlled survival.

  Marrow leaned closer.

  “And every faction wants Authority users on their side.”

  Silence followed.

  Then Lyn groaned.

  “So now they’re going to fight over Vale.”

  Marrow nodded slowly.

  “Yes.”

  Vale stared into the fire.

  He didn’t want power.

  Didn’t want influence.

  But power attracted conflict whether invited or not.

  Across the square, an argument broke out as refugees fought over bread distribution. Soldiers stepped in, shoving people apart.

  Vale watched it unfold.

  Authority.

  Control.

  Desperation.

  Same patterns repeating.

  Finally, Marrow spoke again.

  “There’s something else.”

  Vale looked up.

  “What?”

  The elder hesitated.

  Then lowered his voice.

  “Hunters are saying monster attacks are changing.”

  Vale’s expression hardened slightly.

  “How?”

  “They’re coordinated.”

  Lyn frowned.

  “Monsters don’t coordinate.”

  Marrow nodded grimly.

  “That’s what scares them.”

  Vale felt a cold knot tighten in his gut.

  Because monsters didn’t organize.

  Unless something organized them.

  Thunder rumbled faintly beyond the walls.

  No storm clouds gathered overhead.

  Vale stood slowly.

  Lyn looked up.

  “What now?”

  He stared toward the unseen walls.

  “Now,” he said quietly, “we find out what’s really coming.”

  And somewhere far beyond the city—

  Something massive moved.

  Closing distance.

  Hunting.

  And this time…

  It wasn’t wandering blindly.

  The argument over food ended with someone bleeding.

  Vale didn’t see who started it.

  One moment refugees shouted over dwindling rations, the next a knife flashed, someone screamed, and soldiers rushed in swinging spear shafts to break the crowd apart.

  A man lay clutching his stomach as healers pushed through the chaos.

  Children cried.

  People shouted accusations.

  And overhead, torches flickered as if even fire struggled to keep steady in the city’s tension.

  Vale turned away.

  “This gets worse,” he muttered.

  Lyn crossed her arms.

  “Everything gets worse around you.”

  He didn’t deny it.

  Marrow spoke quietly beside the fire.

  “People are scared. Hungry people don’t think clearly.”

  “No,” Vale agreed. “They think about survival.”

  A whistle cut through the square.

  Sharp. Official.

  Soldiers parted the crowd as a well-dressed group entered, cloaks clean despite the grime everywhere else.

  Too clean.

  Merchants.

  Vale recognized authority without armor.

  Guards accompanied them — hired muscle, not soldiers. Well-fed, confident, carrying polished weapons.

  At their center walked a plump man with silver rings on nearly every finger. His robes strained at the seams, embroidered with the sigil of interlocking coins.

  Merchant Consortium.

  Marrow’s jaw tightened.

  “Speak of devils.”

  The merchant smiled broadly, raising his hands as if greeting old friends.

  “Good people of District Seven! We bring opportunity!”

  Murmurs spread.

  Opportunity usually meant price.

  The merchant gestured toward wagons being pulled into the square.

  “Food distribution!”

  Hope flickered instantly across exhausted faces.

  Then the merchant continued.

  “For those who can pay.”

  Hope died just as quickly.

  Angry murmurs followed.

  A soldier nearby muttered, “Not again…”

  Vale watched quietly.

  Crates opened.

  Bread.

  Dried meat.

  Grain.

  Enough food to ease suffering.

  But merchants handed portions only to those offering coin, jewelry, or valuables.

  Refugees scrambled desperately, trading wedding rings, heirlooms, tools.

  Some had nothing.

  They watched others eat.

  A woman begged, holding a starving child.

  The merchant waved her away casually.

  “No payment, no product.”

  Vale’s jaw tightened.

  Lyn stepped forward instinctively.

  “That’s—”

  Vale caught her wrist.

  She glared at him.

  “Let go.”

  “Not yet.”

  She stared in disbelief.

  “They’re letting people starve!”

  “Yes.”

  “So we do nothing?”

  Vale watched guards positioned around wagons.

  Mercenary professionals.

  Ready for violence.

  And soldiers nearby pretended not to see.

  Because soldiers needed food too.

  “This isn’t random,” Vale murmured.

  Lyn frowned.

  “What do you mean?”

  He nodded toward the merchants.

  “They’re tightening control.”

  Marrow spoke quietly.

  “Food prices rise every day.”

  Vale nodded.

  “Because shortages create leverage.”

  He watched desperate refugees hand over last possessions.

  “They’re not just selling food.”

  He exhaled.

  “They’re buying loyalty.”

  Silence fell between them.

  Lyn slowly understood.

  “They’re making people dependent.”

  “Yes.”

  And dependence created power.

  Suddenly shouting erupted again.

  A young man lunged for a crate, trying to steal bread.

  Mercenaries reacted instantly.

  One struck him across the face with a mace.

  The young man collapsed, blood spraying across stone.

  Crowd recoiled in horror.

  Merchant sighed dramatically.

  “Thieves will be punished.”

  No one moved.

  Fear held them still.

  Vale felt Authority stir again.

  Protector instinct responding to injustice.

  Dangerous.

  Because this wasn’t monsters.

  This was society.

  Interfering here meant enemies with influence.

  Not claws.

  Lyn whispered:

  “You’re doing that thing again.”

  “What thing?”

  “The one where you decide whether to fix something.”

  Vale frowned slightly.

  He hated when she was right.

  The beaten youth groaned weakly, crawling toward dropped bread.

  Mercenary kicked him aside.

  Laughter followed.

  Something inside Vale shifted.

  Enough.

  He stepped forward.

  Marrow hissed quietly.

  “Careful.”

  Vale walked toward wagons.

  Mercenaries immediately noticed.

  Hands moved to weapons.

  Merchant’s smile faltered slightly as Vale approached.

  “Can we help you?”

  Vale stopped a few steps away.

  “Give them food.”

  The merchant blinked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “People are starving.”

  Merchant’s smile returned, thinner now.

  “And we are selling food.”

  Vale met his gaze calmly.

  “They have nothing left to sell.”

  The merchant shrugged.

  “Unfortunate.”

  Vale’s eyes hardened.

  Mercenaries stepped closer.

  One sneered.

  “Move along, hero.”

  Crowd watched in tense silence.

  Soldiers nearby pretended not to notice.

  Merchant folded his hands.

  “Business must continue.”

  Vale inhaled slowly.

  Authority whispered beneath his skin.

  Choice again.

  Walk away.

  Or intervene.

  He looked at hungry faces watching from shadows.

  At parents trying to quiet starving children.

  At people trading lives for bread.

  Protector Authority pulsed once.

  Decision made.

  Vale spoke calmly.

  “You’ll distribute food fairly.”

  The merchant laughed.

  “No.”

  Authority pressure leaked unconsciously.

  Air grew heavier.

  Mercenaries shifted uneasily.

  Merchant’s smile wavered.

  Vale stepped closer.

  “I’m not asking.”

  Silence spread.

  Crowd felt it.

  That invisible weight.

  Mercenaries glanced at one another.

  Predators sensing bigger predator.

  Merchant swallowed.

  Then forced a laugh.

  “You think intimidation works on businessmen?”

  Vale tilted his head slightly.

  “I think hunger makes people dangerous.”

  He gestured behind him.

  “You’re surrounded.”

  Merchant glanced around.

  Desperate refugees stared at wagons now.

  Hope rekindled.

  Fear shifting.

  Dangerous shift.

  Merchant realized too late.

  Crowd no longer passive.

  Vale spoke quietly.

  “Give them food. Leave with profit later.”

  Long silence.

  Then—

  Merchant sighed.

  “…Fine.”

  Gasps spread.

  Mercenaries looked confused.

  Merchant waved hand irritably.

  “Distribute portions.”

  Crowd surged.

  Soldiers quickly intervened to prevent stampede.

  Food passed out.

  Tension eased slightly.

  Not solved.

  But eased.

  Merchant leaned close to Vale.

  Voice low.

  “You made an enemy tonight.”

  Vale shrugged.

  “I get that a lot.”

  Merchant straightened.

  Wagons emptied quickly.

  And soon left square under heavy guard.

  Lyn walked up beside Vale.

  “…You just robbed rich people legally.”

  Vale exhaled.

  “They’ll recover.”

  Starving refugees wouldn’t.

  Behind them, cheers spread quietly as families ate.

  Small victory.

  Temporary.

  Vale knew that.

  Because systems didn’t collapse overnight.

  They rotted slowly.

  And somewhere beyond walls—

  Something watched humanity weaken itself.

  Waiting.

  Learning.

  Preparing to strike.

  And Vale wondered—

  How many enemies he could make…

  Before war arrived.