The Invincible Auction House

Chapter 19: The Mask Slips

The aftermath of the battle at the eastern outpost left Rydale in a fragile equilibrium. The rebellion had survived, but its fractures ran deep. Meanwhile, the Shadow Hand Cult, licking its wounds, retreated into the labyrinthine catacombs, their influence still a growing shadow over the city. Yet amidst the chaos, Adam's reach extended further, his schemes threading through every layer of power.

In the rebellion's hideout, Kaelin stood over a worn map of Rydale, its edges singed from their last raid. Her brow furrowed, determination etched into her features.

"We can't stay on the defensive," she said, her voice steady but taut. "The cult will strike again, and next time, they won't leave survivors."

Jarek leaned against the wall, his blade resting on his knee. He raised an eyebrow, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Brilliant deduction. But unless you've got an army stashed somewhere, we're running out of fighters, weapons, and time."

Kaelin's fists clenched. "Adam has been helping us. We'll need his supplies again."

Jarek straightened, his expression darkening. "Ah, yes. Let's crawl back to the puppet master. Why not just hand him the rebellion while you're at it?"

"It's not begging, Jarek. It's strategy," Kaelin snapped. "We need allies, and Adam's the only one who sees the bigger picture."

Before the argument could escalate, a scout stumbled into the room, his face pale and his breathing ragged. "Leader Kaelin! The cult's targeting families in the slums. They're dragging people into the streets and executing them—anyone they suspect of helping us."

Kaelin's face hardened, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the edge of the table. "Damn them!"

"Of course," Jarek said dryly. "Let's rush into another fight we can't win. That's been working out wonderfully so far."

Kaelin ignored him, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "Gather everyone. We move out tonight. No one else will die under our watch."

At the auction house, Adam observed the rebellion's plight through the glowing orb. Scenes of chaos played out before him: frightened families dragged into the streets, the rebellion scrambling to respond. What others might see as tragedy, Adam saw as an intricate game board shifting in his favor.

"Ren," Adam said, his tone calm yet commanding.

Ren entered, his steps quiet but purposeful. "Master Adam?"

"Spread a new rumor," Adam instructed. "Let the cultists believe Dusk is favoring certain lieutenants—specifically, those who question his leadership. Make it sound like he's playing favorites to protect himself."

Ren tilted his head, a faint smile on his lips. "Sowing doubt within their ranks? A classic move."

"Exactly," Adam replied. "And as for the rebellion, give Kaelin information about a key cult outpost. Make it seem critical, something the cult would fiercely defend. She'll think it's a chance to strike back. In truth, it's bait."

Ren bowed and left, his steps quickening to execute the plan.

Moments later, Lira entered, her smirk more pronounced than usual. "The mercenaries are restless. Shall I let them loose?"

Adam shook his head. "Not yet. Let the rebellion and the cult bleed each other dry first. The time will come for us to step in—and claim the victory."

Deep within the catacombs, Dusk addressed his lieutenants in a dimly lit chamber. Shadows danced across the damp stone walls, the flickering torches casting long, ominous shapes.

"The rebellion grows bolder," Dusk said, his voice a low, controlled menace. "Their last attack shows they haven't been crushed yet. We'll need to end this quickly."

A wiry man named Serik stepped forward, his expression cautious. "With respect, Dusk, our forces are stretched thin. If we press too hard, we risk overextending ourselves."

Dusk's gaze snapped to Serik, his voice turning icy. "Are you questioning me?"

Serik hesitated, bowing his head. "No, of course not. I merely suggest caution—our strength lies in the shadows, not in open confrontation."

Unbeknownst to Dusk, Adam's planted rumors had already begun to take root, fanning distrust among his inner circle.

Under cover of darkness, Kaelin led her fighters through the narrow alleys of the slums. The abandoned textile mill, marked by Adam as the cult's outpost, loomed ahead. Its crumbling facade and ivy-covered walls gave it an air of quiet menace.

"Surround the building," Kaelin ordered, her voice low but firm. "We hit hard and fast. Take as many prisoners as possible—we need answers."

Her fighters nodded, their weapons glinting faintly in the moonlight.

The raid began with a thunderous crash as Kaelin and Jarek led the charge. Cultists scrambled to respond, their defenses woefully underprepared. Steel clashed against steel, and the air filled with shouts and the acrid scent of blood.

Kaelin faced off against a tall, scarred cult lieutenant wielding twin daggers. Their blades danced in a flurry of sparks and gritted determination.

"You think you can stop us?" the woman sneered. "Dusk will burn this city to the ground before he lets you win."

Kaelin's blade found its mark, driving forward with unyielding precision. "Let him try," she retorted as the cultist fell.

The battle ended swiftly, the rebellion victorious. Amid the wreckage, Jarek uncovered a map in one of the cultist's chambers.

"This mill wasn't just an outpost," Jarek said, handing the map to Kaelin. "They were smuggling supplies to their main base in the catacombs."

Kaelin's eyes narrowed. "Then we know where to strike next."

Far below the city, Dusk's anger boiled over as he received news of the raid. His fist struck the stone table, the sound echoing through the chamber.

"This is no coincidence," he growled. "Someone is feeding the rebellion information."

Serik stepped forward, his voice careful. "Perhaps it's time to reassign leadership roles to ensure loyalty."

Dusk's gaze turned razor-sharp. "You think I don't see what you're doing, Serik? Do you believe you're fit to lead in my place?"

Before Serik could respond, Dusk's blade flashed. The motion was swift, final, and merciless. Serik collapsed, his lifeblood pooling on the cold stone floor.

"Let this be a lesson to anyone who questions my authority," Dusk said, his voice cold and unyielding.

Back at the auction house, Adam watched the orb with satisfaction.

"Everything is falling into place," Adam murmured, leaning back in his chair. "One more push, and the pieces will fall exactly where I want them."

The city was a chessboard, and Adam was already several moves ahead. The mask of chaos and destruction that veiled Rydale hid his true purpose: total control.