Chapter Sixteen
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The mist was still dense.
But it had begun to move—soft ripples, as if something large were passing through it.
Beneath the wreckage of a burned warehouse, only a few meters from the corpse of the Lady of the Whip, someone was watching.
He did not move. He did not breathe audibly. He did nothing except let his eyes follow everything that had happened.
The Lord of Concealment.
He had been there the entire time.
—
He saw everything.
He saw the Lord of Mist kill his ally. He saw the mist blade slice her neck. He saw her body fall to the ground without anyone moving.
And now he saw him standing there alone, looking at her corpse as if bidding it farewell—or confirming her death.
He did not sense me.
The Lord of Concealment thought calmly, though his heart was pounding violently.
He spread his sadeem a moment ago. He made sure the area was empty. Yet he did not feel me. He did not see me. He never realized I had been here the whole time.
A cold smile appeared beneath his invisible mask.
My ability… even your sadeem cannot penetrate it.
—
But the smile did not last long.
His mind began to calculate with the same cold blood that had always defined him:
The Lord of Strength—dead.
The Lady of the Whip—dead now.
The Lord of Subjugation—severely wounded, useless.
The Ajjad—both dead.
The Lord of Sand and the Lord of Gravity—busy guarding, they saw nothing.
The Lord of Shadow—still fighting somewhere else.
Rashid—still trying to coordinate the failed attack.
He looked again at the Lord of Mist.
This man… is uninjured. His energy preserved. He did not fight a real battle throughout the entire confrontation. He observed, planned, waited.
As for me—injured. My energy is low. If he discovers my presence now, I will be his next target.
He made the decision instantly:
Withdraw. Not now. Not like this. There is no value in a meaningless death.
—
But before he moved—
He felt something.
A strange sensation. Heavy. Cold. As if eyes were watching him from behind.
His ability—that hidden awareness which had saved him countless times. The silent warning that danger was near.
He stepped back slowly.
Without a sound.
Then he turned.
—
Only a few meters away, at the edge of the mist, a man stood.
Karsu.
He had not seen him approach. He had not felt him.
But he was there.
Standing. Watching.
No—watching the entire scene.
The corpse of the Lady of the Whip.
The Lord of Mist standing a few steps away.
Then the Lord of Concealment himself.
His cold eyes glimmered in the darkness.
He saw me.
The Lord of Concealment froze.
And he saw the corpse. And he saw the Lord of Mist.
In a single moment, countless scenarios flashed through his mind:
Are they allies? Do they know each other? Is this a trick—did the Lord of Mist kill his ally to pave the path for the Lord of Threads?
He looked at Karsu.
Looked at the Lord of Mist.
Looked at the corpse lying between them.
Then—
It does not matter.
It does not matter who stands with whom. It does not matter what they are planning. What matters is that this place has become a graveyard—and I refuse to be the next grave.
He stepped back.
Slowly.
Step by step.
Without a sound.
Without a trace.
He sank into another dimension as if he had never existed.
—
Minutes later, on the other side of the battlefield where the mist had begun to fade gradually, the Lord of Shadow emerged from the shadow of a nearby wall.
His body hurt. His right hand—the one Karsu had nearly shattered—was still trembling.
But he steadied himself.
He looked around.
The mist was thin here. He could see the scorched ground, scattered debris, traces of blood on the stones.
He walked forward a few steps.
Then—
He saw her.
The Lady of the Whip.
Lying on the ground. Her eyes open. A long gash in her body from neck to chest.
His heart stopped for a moment.
He approached slowly. Bent down. Examined the wound.
A sword… no, not an ordinary sword.
A clean cut. Deep. Precise.
He raised his eyes.
The Lord of Threads. Who else? His legendary blade… that explains—
But something felt wrong.
He looked around again.
Mist. The corpse. Blood.
No one else.
Where are the others?
He closed his eyes for a moment.
He activated his ability—Shadow Sense.
An invisible network spread around him, touching every shadow, every corner, every living being nearby.
He felt them.
Rashid—far away, moving slowly, as if searching for something.
The Lord of Sand—standing motionless at the warehouse gate.
The Lord of Gravity—beside him, sitting on wreckage, panting.
The Lord of Concealment—no trace. No shadow. No presence.
The Lord of Mist—
He stopped.
The Lord of Mist was there.
But he was moving.
Far away.
Retreating.
Heading toward the eastern exit of the warehouses.
Leaving the battle?
He slowly opened his eyes.
The investigator within him—that part that never slept—began working:
One: The Lord of Strength died at the beginning of the battle.
Two: The Lord of Concealment—gone. Missing. Did he retreat? Did he die?
Three: The Lady of the Whip—dead now.
Four: The Lord of Mist—leaving the fight.
Five: The Lord of Threads—somewhere nearby. Very close. He could feel him. Approaching the boundary.
He looked around nervously.
I must inform the others. I must—
—
"My mission here is finished."
The voice was deep. Powerful. Coming from everywhere.
The mist itself trembled with it.
The Lord of Shadow froze.
"I witnessed the death of the Lady of Radiance. My presence here is no longer necessary. I will withdraw."
—
The voice faded.
And the mist—began to thin further.
The Lord of Shadow stood there, his eyes widening slowly.
He witnessed her death?
He looked around again.
But… no one had been here.
I was the first to arrive.
No one saw her before me.
He remembered something.
If anyone had seen the body—anyone—they would have announced it immediately.
But he had not.
He waited.
Then announced his withdrawal minutes later.
Wait… what was he doing during those minutes?
And suddenly—
A flash.
He killed her.
The conclusion struck him like lightning.
The Lord of Mist killed his ally.
Then withdrew.
He stepped back.
Then another.
This is beyond my authority. Beyond my pay grade.
He looked once more at the corpse.
Then at the fading mist.
Then toward the direction where he could feel Karsu approaching.
I am out of this game.
He turned.
And vanished into shadow.
—
A few meters away, behind a pile of charred wooden wreckage, Rashid stood.
Through his vines—the small plants he had spread underground since the beginning of the battle—he had felt them all.
He had seen nothing.
But he realized one thing:
Many presences had disappeared from the battlefield.
Did they all die?
Rashid stood silently.
Then he spoke in a low voice that only he could hear:
"What exactly happened here?"
—
Then he noticed it.
The mist.
It had grown thinner.
No longer that dense white wall swallowing everything.
Now it was fragile. Transparent. One could see a few meters through it.
He raised his hand.
The vines beneath the earth responded immediately.
He sent a message to all the remaining Qaz Lords.
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A few meters from the eastern warehouse gate stood the Lord of Sand and the Lord of Gravity.
The mist around them had begun to thin, but they remained alert.
The ground beneath the Lord of Sand's feet trembled constantly—his method of sensing any unnatural movement.
Then suddenly—
"My mission here is finished."
The powerful voice echoed everywhere.
Both men stiffened.
"I witnessed the death of the Lady of Radiance. My presence here is no longer necessary. I will withdraw."
—
Silence.
The Lord of Sand looked at the Lord of Gravity, eyes wide.
"What?"
The Lord of Gravity slowly shook his head.
"The Lady of Radiance… died?"
"And he withdraws? Now?"
—
Before they could continue, the ground beneath them trembled.
The Lord of Sand raised his hand.
Rashid's vines were moving beneath the earth.
A message.
"The mist is thinning. Come to my position. Quickly."
—
At the western entrance of the warehouses, the Lords of Subjugation were sitting on the ground, their backs against the ruins of a collapsed wall.
The first—the master of the Ajjad—was pale, his hands trembling. His beasts were dead, his strength completely drained.
The second—the master of the Breaker Worm—was worse. Blood flowed from a deep wound in his shoulder, his breathing uneven.
They heard the announcement.
They looked at each other.
"The Lady of Radiance…?"
"Dead."
Silence.
Then slowly—the sand beneath them began to move.
Rashid's vines were pulling them.
—
They gathered.
Only five Lords remained.
The Lord of Sand.
The Lord of Gravity.
Rashid.
And the two wounded Lords of Subjugation.
The mist around them had become as light as morning fog.
They looked at one another.
"Where are the others?" the Lord of Gravity asked.
"The Lord of Strength died at the beginning of the battle. I saw it myself," the Lord of Sand answered quietly.
"The Lady of Radiance—dead. You heard the announcement."
"And the Lord of Shadow? The Lord of Concealment?"
Silence.
Rashid spoke, his voice sharp:
"And the Lord of Mist—withdrawn."
—
The Lord of Sand looked around.
"So… only five of us remain?"
"And the enemy is still free."
At that moment the earth beneath them opened slightly.
A thin vine emerged.
At its tip—a small withered flower.
Rashid bent down, touched it, and closed his eyes.
Then he opened them slowly.
"The Lord of Threads… crossed the eastern wall."
They all looked in that direction.
Nothing there but shadow.
"He escaped."
—
A long silence.
The Lord of Gravity spoke first.
"This makes no sense. He fought until the end… then escaped?"
The Lord of Sand added:
"And the Lady of Radiance—who killed her? The Lord of Threads was fighting us minutes ago. How did he kill her so quickly?"
Rashid looked at them.
Then said quietly:
"And did you hear his announcement? 'I witnessed her death'… how did he witness it while controlling his mist here?"
—
A deeper silence followed.
Slowly—
Ideas began forming.
"Is there…"
"Do not jump to conclusions," Rashid interrupted sharply. "Do not accuse anyone without evidence."
But his eyes—
Said something else.
—
The Lords of Subjugation looked at each other.
The first—the master of the Ajjad—raised his head with difficulty.
"If there is a traitor among us…"
"Then we are in greater danger than the Lord of Threads."
—
The group stood in silence.
The mist had completely vanished now.
The sky was dark.
Night was approaching.
And the bodies—three dead Lords—waited somewhere among the ruins.
—
On the other side of the warehouses, Karsu stood behind a broken wall.
He looked at the sky.
At the shadows.
At the road before him.
Blood still flowed.
Poison still ran through his veins.
Yet he smiled.
A cold smile.
"If they were a little smarter, they would not fight me.
There is the danger of betrayal. What if the Lord of Threads and the Lord of Mist are allies?"
He turned.
And walked into the shadows.
"But if they were smarter, they would attack now…"
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