Soon, a week passed since the spies were released. When they first appeared, they were disoriented and confused about their surroundings. The area around the gate had been restricted, and no one could enter without authorization from the city. The city in which I appeared is Norkfent city.
Soon, information surfaced about their origins. They were from the capital, sent here after the dungeon had been relocated instead of sealed away. After extensive testing, it was confirmed they were not monsters masquerading as humans, but ordinary people. With no evidence of wrongdoing, they were set free.
Sadly, they couldn’t return to the capital. Instead, they were stranded on Resgong, one of the empire’s colonial planets.
This colony, the empire’s second, was its poorest and most corrupt colony, even after such a long time of development. The reasons were no mystery.
Resgong was more of a penal colony than a settlement. It was a dumping ground for criminals.
Outside, you might be a notorious crime boss, but here, you’re just another nobody. Flaunting your reputation is a surefire way to end up bleeding in an alley, robbed of everything you own.
Chaos would reign if not for the empire’s military, which maintained order through the constant threat of orbital bombardment.
Suppression came primarily from the empire’s fleet, capable of reducing entire areas to rubble with orbital strikes.
From what I gathered, Resgong had no other gates besides mine, and people were flocking to it like moths to a flame, desperate for a way out.
In the capital, levelling up followed the ‘normal’ path, but here, killing others granted experience based on their level and the difference between yours and theirs.
After assessing the situation, I began formulating plans to lure people into the dungeon. But then I realized something else.
I could convert them to my cause. Resgong was teeming with greedy, desperate criminals who feared death more than anything else.
If I could satisfy their greed and protect them from harm, they would never betray me. With Strix’s ability to enslave them, I could build a loyal army, one that would fight for me and generate endless terror points.
The future was looking brighter with every passing second.
But what caught my attention was Strix’s report. She had gained a loyal subordinate, someone who would prove extremely useful. A ‘good show,’ as she put it, was scheduled to unfold in a few days. I decided to wait and see. If she failed, I’d reconsider her place in my castle or whether she deserved to exist at all.
***
Boss Raze, we’ve got intel on those cultists!” A man burst into a dimly lit office, the weak glow of a lone lamp casting shadows that obscured the faces of those inside.
“Cough, cough!” The man doubled over, choking on the thick cigarette smoke.
“What did you find?” A raspy voice came from behind the desk, the chair still turned away.
“They’re planning a gathering at a hotel in the east,” the man stammered, his eyes darting nervously to the shadowy figures in the corner.
His former superior stood in the corner, silent and unmoving, alongside three others who had met similar fates to him.
“Which one? There are six hotels in the east.” The boss flicked his cigarette into an ashtray, the smoke curling lazily in the air.
“The Golden Garth Hotel, sir.” The man felt the tension ease slightly. Failure to answer would have meant joining his predecessors as another grim decoration in the boss’s office.
“Mobilize the men,” the boss ordered, “and spread the word secretly to the other gangs. Let them know about this cultist hideout.”
The underling hesitated, confused by the order, but he knew better than to question it. Questioning the boss was a death sentence.
His job was to leak the information discreetly, ensuring the other gangs would act without suspecting a coordinated effort. If they thought the cultists were a shared threat, they’d unite naturally. No one wanted to be seen as collaborating with the enemy.
Such a result would devastate the gang, reducing recruitment and crippling their influence, making future operations nearly impossible.
These cultists kidnapped key figures and expanded their influence rapidly, disregarding the established gangs and the lives they disrupted.
Soon, the gangs realized the cultists had grown from a minor nuisance into a significant threat.
The cultist leader was the real problem. He was incredibly strong, easily defeating anyone who challenged him. Many speculated he was around level 25.
But soon, he wouldn’t matter. Tonight, the cultists would be wiped off the map.
***
Near the Golden Garth Hotel, several figures gathered in the shadows.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Anyone who saw them would recognize them as the right-hand men of the city’s most powerful gangs.
Fifteen figures stood in the shadows, but only five commanded attention.
The first person defied expectations. Instead of a muscular thug, he was refined and elegant, with glasses and slicked-back brown hair.
This was Morong, the Green Fang’s vice leader. Those who mocked his name rarely lived to regret it.
Beside him stood Goran, the Red Ant gang’s vice leader. Goran had no striking features, but his menacing aura drew attention.
On the other side stood another pair, two women.
They were the vice leaders of the Rose and Scorpion gangs, both all-female organizations that barred men from joining.
The Rose gang’s vice leader was stunning, her beauty almost otherworldly. Her piercing eyes and flawless features made it unthinkable to harm her.
Next to her stood a towering woman, her muscular frame and height of 2.3 meters, making her an imposing figure. (7.54 ft)
Her body bore countless scars, each one adding to her fearsome appearance. Her face was hidden behind a mask, adding to her aura of menace.
Between them stood the Platinum Angels, the strongest gang and the architects of this alliance.
Their leader was a thug in a tank top, his arms covered in tattoos and his shaved head gleaming under the light.
His single eye glared fiercely, the other hidden behind a scarred lid.
“With everyone here, we can move forward,” said the Platinum Angels’ vice leader.
“Scarface, don’t think you can order us around,” Morong snapped. “The five strongest gangs are here to wipe out these cultists. If you treat us like your henchmen, we’re walking away.”
“Don’t play games, Morong,” Helena said, her voice icy. “We’ve dealt with your schemes before. We know what you’re after, and we’re not falling for it.”
“Enough!” Scarface barked. “Our job is to take out these cultists, fast. Rose and Scorpion cover the east and northeast. Green Fang and Red Ant, handle the west and northwest. My gang will lead the charge from the front.” He ignored Morong’s attempts to seize control.
With that, Scarface turned and left, dismissing the others without a second glance.
After Scarface’s dismissal, the others returned to their gangs to prepare for the raid.
The cultists had prepared for this. They used low-level members as bait, luring the gangs deeper into the hotel.
As the gangs advanced, they noticed the lax security but remained cautious. The ease of their progress made them uneasy, especially after the cultists’ rapid rise in power over the past week.
They moved closer, silently eliminating the guards outside. But as they approached the hotel, they could no longer remain hidden. They sent a low-level member ahead to scout.
The cultists put up little resistance, retreating deeper into the hotel. Outside, the gang members watched cautiously, waiting for the trap to spring.
Just as they relaxed, explosions rocked the area. Gang members screamed as shrapnel tore through the air, leaving many wounded.
“It’s a trap! Fall back!” The vice leaders barked orders, desperate to save their core members.
From the alleys, robed figures poured out, cutting off the gangs’ escape routes.
Trapped, the gangs had no choice but to fight.
***
-Scarface POV-
‘Damn it,’ Scarface thought as he dodged an attack and stabbed his attacker in the throat. ‘We walked right into their trap. Those informers sold us out. They’ll pay for this.’
Even though he was surrounded by his gang, cultists still slipped through and attacked him.
The cultists outnumbered them three to one. How had they recruited so many so quickly?
There had to be a larger force behind them. There was no other explanation.
The cultists fought with precision and skill, their levels clearly above 10.
Not only did they have numbers, but every one of them was an elite.
They had to retreat now, or the casualties would be catastrophic. If he failed, the big boss would have his head.
If he brought back even a fraction of his men, he might survive. The other gangs had suffered too, but their reputation would take a hit. The Platinum Angels might lose their top spot.
“Prepare for a breakthrough!” Scarface shouted. Behind him, cultists poured out of the building, attacking without regard for their own lives.
As the situation deteriorated, Scarface led the elites in a desperate push to break through.
The other leaders followed suit, sacrificing their weaker members to buy time for the elites.
A fireball streaked toward Scarface as he ran, forcing him to dive to the ground.
The fireball soared over his head, striking those behind him. Scarface scrambled to his feet and spotted a cultist in a different robe, a purple one.
The cultist hurled another fireball, this time without a chant or regard for his allies.
The fireball missed Scarface, striking a fellow cultist instead and killing him instantly.
They couldn’t escape until the mage was dead. Scarface signalled his elites to retreat and report to the boss while he dealt with the threat.
Scarface weaved through the chaos, using others as shields, until he reached the mage.
Scarface swung his blade, but the mage blocked it with his staff, his body surprisingly strong for a spellcaster.
The mage was far stronger than he’d let on. He’d been toying with them, using weak spells to lure them in.
As Scarface tried to retreat, the mage froze the ground beneath him, sending him sliding.
The mage launched frost lances, each spell following the last in rapid succession.
Scarface dodged most of the lances, but one struck his shoulder, freezing the surrounding flesh.
He could still move his left arm, but the injury rendered it useless in combat.
Thankfully, Scarface was right-handed, but the pain still slowed his movements and clouded his judgment.
Scarface dodged another spell, but his foot slipped on the ice. He rolled to avoid the next attack, gritting his teeth against the pain.
As Scarface struggled to his feet, he heard the roar of engines. Turning, he saw a convoy of cars approaching, reinforcements led by the boss himself.
The boss had expected the cultists’ plan and prepared accordingly.
That was why he ruled the city’s underworld. He always stayed three steps ahead.
Scarface rose, relief flooding him as the reinforcements arrived.
“Reinforcements are here! Hold the line!” Scarface roared, trying to rally his men despite the overwhelming odds.
The cars screeched to a halt, and the boss stepped out. But before Scarface could relax, the boss raised his arm and fired an ice bolt straight at him.
The ice bolt struck Scarface in the stomach, sending him crashing to the ground. He coughed, blood spilling from his lips.
Instead of aiding his men, the boss turned on them, aiding the cultists. Scarface was stunned. The boss was the undisputed king of the underworld, feared and unchallenged. Why would he betray his own?
The boss approached, stopping just inches from Scarface’s fallen form.
“Why?” Scarface choked out, staring up at the boss’s shadowed figure.
“Nothing personal,” the boss said coldly. “Just business.” He raised his arm, firing an ice bolt straight at Scarface’s head.
As the ice bolt flew, a glowing mark, Strix’s subjugation seal, appeared on the boss’s forehead, revealing his true allegiance.
The boss had suspected something was amiss. Investigating further, he discovered the cultists’ true strength. The purple-robed were his equals, the red-robed his superiors, and the white-robed, seen only from a distance, were beyond his reach. Even at level 29, he was no match.
Captured by two red-robed cultists, he was forced to join their ranks. Resistance was futile.
Using his influence, he helped the cultists recruit new members and secure resources. In return, he was promoted to a purple robe, with the promise of a red robe if he proved his worth.
How is the chapter compared to the previous one?
