The Invincible Auction House

Chapter 21: Shadows in Retreat

The catacombs resonated with the hollow echoes of retreating footsteps. Among the survivors, Kaelin stood at the center of her rebellion fighters, her sword still dripping with blood. Around her, the wounded were tended to hastily, their moans of pain blending with the crackling of torches. Victory had come at a cost, and it weighed heavily on them all.

Jarek approached, wiping blood from a cut on his forehead. His tone was sharp, but weary. "We won, Kaelin. But look at our fighters—this isn't sustainable. And Dusk? He slipped through our fingers."

Kaelin clenched her jaw, her voice firm despite her exhaustion. "This wasn't just about Dusk. We've struck a blow to their morale, and we've gained ground. That matters."

Her gaze shifted to the entrance of the tunnel, where Lira and her mercenaries loitered. Their presence, though a lifesaver, gnawed at her pride. "But you're right. We didn't do this alone."

Lira smirked, leaning against the damp wall. "Don't give us too much credit, darling. You'd all be corpses if we hadn't shown up when we did."

Kaelin shot her a glare. "Tell Adam his assistance is noted, even if it comes with strings."

Lira's grin widened, her voice dripping with mockery. "Oh, it always comes with strings. The question is how far you're willing to pull."

Jarek stepped between them, his tone cutting. "Enough. We need to focus on the future. If we keep losing people like this, there won't be anyone left to fight."

Kaelin sighed, nodding. "You're right. Let's tend to the wounded and regroup. This war is far from over."

Elsewhere in the catacombs, Dusk stood in his dwindling stronghold, surrounded by his remaining lieutenants. The dim torchlight cast ominous shadows on the walls, mirroring the growing fracture in the cult's leadership.

"This setback is temporary," Dusk growled, his commanding voice reverberating through the chamber. "The rebellion thinks they've gained the upper hand, but their arrogance will be their undoing."

A wiry lieutenant with a jagged scar across his cheek spoke cautiously. "With respect, Dusk, our forces are stretched thin. And… there are whispers among the ranks. Some question whether you can still lead us to victory."

Dusk's glare turned icy. "Rumors? Do they think I care for the opinions of cowards? Spread dissent, and you'll find yourself executed alongside them."

The room fell into a tense silence, the threat hanging in the air like a blade. Though none dared speak, the doubt was palpable—Adam's manipulation had taken root.

At the auction house, Adam observed the aftermath with satisfaction. The orb's surface displayed fragmented images of cultists arguing and rebellion fighters licking their wounds.

Ren stood at his side, calm as ever. "Kaelin's forces grow stronger, Master Adam. The cult, on the other hand, is unraveling. Their unity is crumbling."

Adam nodded, his voice steady. "Strength alone won't win this war, Ren. Kaelin must remain dependent on us. Her victories should never feel entirely her own."

Lira strode into the chamber, her confident swagger contrasting with the tension in the room. "Kaelin doesn't trust us, but she knows she can't survive without our help. What's the next move?"

Adam's gaze didn't waver. "Spread rumors that the rebellion is preparing a full-scale assault on the cult's remaining stronghold. Let those whispers reach the cultists who are already questioning Dusk. They'll start to wonder if he can protect them."

Lira's grin returned. "And Kaelin? Keep feeding her just enough to keep her hooked?"

Adam's smirk deepened. "Exactly. Let her believe she's gaining ground, but not enough to become independent. The balance must remain in my favor."

Back in the rebellion's camp, Kaelin sat alone in her tent, staring at the worn map spread across the table. The victory had brought a flicker of hope, but the cost weighed heavily on her.

Jarek entered quietly, his expression grave. "You've been quiet since we returned. What's eating at you?"

Kaelin sighed, rubbing her temples. "This war. Every time we take a step forward, it feels like we lose a part of ourselves. I don't know how much longer we can keep this up."

Jarek sat across from her, his tone gentler than usual. "You're not alone in this, Kaelin. Let the others shoulder some of the burden. You don't have to carry it all."

She nodded, though her expression remained troubled. "There's something else. Adam. His timing is too perfect, his help too calculated. I can't shake the feeling that he's using us for his own ends."

Jarek frowned, leaning closer. "You think he's manipulating us?"

Kaelin hesitated. "I don't know. But if he is, we need to tread carefully. We can't let ourselves become pawns in his game."

In the cult's crumbling stronghold, Dusk paced furiously. The whispers of dissent had grown louder, and even his lieutenants seemed increasingly unreliable.

A loyalist approached cautiously. "Lord Dusk, we've received reports of rebellion scouts near our borders. They're preparing for another attack."

Dusk's eyes narrowed. "Let them come. But this time, we'll crush them entirely. Send word to our allies in the southern territories. Tell them reinforcements are required immediately."

The loyalist hesitated. "And if they refuse?"

Dusk's voice turned icy. "Then they'll learn the cost of disloyalty."

At the auction house, Adam leaned back in his chair, watching the pieces shift on the board.

Ren stepped forward, his calm demeanor unshaken. "The rebellion and the cult are on the brink of another major clash. Do we intervene?"

Adam shook his head, his tone calculated. "Not yet. Let them bleed each other dry a little longer. When the time is right, we'll deliver the final blow."

His gaze returned to the orb, the images of chaos reflected in his sharp eyes. The game was nearing its climax, and Adam was ready to seize victory from the shadows.