The air in Freddy's office was so thick with the scent of impending slaughter that a lesser man would have choked on it. Rayn sat in a high-backed chair, his fingers steepled, looking every bit the dark architect of a new world order. The three Radars—Venric, Catherine, and Benny—stared at him with a mixture of horrified awe and shivering respect. They were Turn 6 powerhouses, veterans of a thousand skirmishes, yet they felt like children standing before a primordial demon.
Catherine looked at Freddy, her voice trembling slightly. "Freddy... where the fuck did you find this kid? He isn't just smart; he's a goddamn psychopath. But if we don't do what he says... if Victus wins that seat, Division 7 won't just be disbanded. We'll be erased. Our heads will be on pikes before the sun sets on election day."
Freddy didn't answer immediately. He took his seat at the head of the mahogany table, looking at his team. Veora, Novara, and Troy occupied the peripheral couches. Vespera sat beside Veora.
"The board is set," Rayn said, his voice a low, melodic rasp that carried the weight of a funeral bell. "I'm going to explain the script. Each of you has a role. If you play your part to perfection, you live to see the sunrise. If you fuck up, you're not just dead—you're a footnote in Victus's history. Do I make myself clear, Sirs and Madams?"
Venric leaned forward, his bald head reflecting the dim mag-lights. "What's the first move, kid?"
Rayn pulled a stack of thick, enchanted parchment from his coat. On it was a high-quality rendering of Freddy's face—not the sweating, anxious bureaucrat he was, but a visionary leader. Beneath it, in bold, gold-foiled letters, was the slogan: "VOTE FOR FREDDY: THE SHIELD OF THE PEOPLE. A PEACEFUL ASHBURG BEGINS WITH DIVISION 7."
"Novara," Rayn said, sliding the papers toward her. "Go into the slums. Hire two 'Commoners'—the desperate ones who would sell their mothers for a loaf of bread. Give them these pamphlets and a handful of Fazhos. Tell them to hand these out in the main thoroughfare. Tell them they're part of a 'New Dawn.'"
Novara frowned, looking at the documents. "Handing out papers won't do shit, Rayn. Victus is literally handing out gold coins to every voter. These people don't want 'Peace'; they want to eat."
Rayn's grin was jagged and devoid of warmth. "The pamphlets aren't meant to win votes, Senior. They're meant to be the evidence. Once those two workers have handed out enough papers to get noticed by the Division 1 patrols, we kill them."
The room went deathly silent.
Veora gasped. "Kill them? They're just civilians, Rayn!"
"They are martyrs," Rayn corrected, his crimson eyes flashing. "We kill them and dump their bodies in the middle of the busiest intersection in town. We make sure their blood soaks into those pamphlets. Then, Venric, this is where your Actor Power comes in. You're going to transform. I don't want you to be a warrior; I want you to be a grieving mother. You'll wail, you'll scream, you'll curse Victus's name. You'll tell the crowd that Victus's men killed your 'son' because he dared to support Freddy."
Catherine slammed her hand on the table. "This is too much! You're talking about slaughtering three innocent people just for a goddamn PR stunt! Have you lost your fucking mind?"
Rayn stood up, the chair scraping against the floor like a scream. He walked over to Catherine, leaning down until their noses almost touched. "What is three lives compared to the thousands that will die when Sterling takes over this town through Victus? If you want to keep your morals, Catherine, go join a monastery. If you want to keep your brother Benny alive, you will pick up your blade and you will cut those throats. Because if you don't, I'll let Victus have his way with you both. Is your 'kindness' worth Benny's head?"
Catherine stared into the abyss of Rayn's eyes and saw no soul. She slumped back into her seat, her face pale. "Fine... fuck you. I'll do it."
Rayn reached into his storage space and pulled out a heavy, blocky artifact made of black steel and enchanted glass. It looked like a primitive camera from Earth, but it hummed with the resonance of Spiritual Logic.
"This is a Visual Record Artifact," Rayn said, handing it to Venric. "I created it using the things i found on market. It captures the light of a moment and freezes it onto a jade slide. And this..." He held up a small, green jade owl, no larger than a thumb. "This is a Voice-Shadow Mirror. It records every vibration in the air."
"Venric, tonight, when Victus meets the Sterling representative from Division 4, you will be there in the shadows. You will record the exchange of money. You will record the moment he sells his father's legacy for a pile of foreign gold. We need the proof to be undeniable."
Rayn then turned to Benny. The young boy looked terrified. "And you, Benny... you are the final act. Once the town is screaming for Victus's head, you're going to arrive at the polling station. You'll be covered in your own blood. We're going to damage your body—not enough to kill you, but enough to make it look like you crawled out of a mass grave. You'll tell them you were the sole survivor of a Division 1 'Cleaning Crew.'"
Rayn looked at Freddy. "Everyone is against us, aren't they? The King, the Prince, the other towns... tell me, Freddy, why haven't they just stepped on you like a bug yet?"
Freddy straightened his tie, a spark of genuine confidence returning to his eyes. "Because of my 'Old Friend,' Rayn. The one I told you about. He is the strongest man in the Four Kingdoms. Even the King fears a direct confrontation with him. As long as I stay within the 'Legal' bounds of the town's laws, the King won't intervene. He needs a reason. He needs an excuse. That's why we have to win this election 'legally,' even if the path there is paved with bodies."
"Good," Rayn said. "The friend is our shield. My plan is the sword. Now, move out. The clock is ticking."
By 10:00 AM, the plan was in motion. Novara had hired two desperate men—drifters who thought they had finally caught a break. They stood on the corner of the Grand Plaza, handing out Freddy's pamphlets with hopeful smiles.
Rayn sat on a nearby bench, his hood pulled low. Vespera was curled up beside him, her head on his lap, seemingly asleep, but her spiritual sense was wrapped around the entire district.
Rayn watched as a merchant walked by, took a pamphlet, read the word 'Peace,' and immediately crumpled it and threw it into the mud.
"See that, Vespera?" Rayn whispered, his voice like dry leaves. "They don't want to be saved. They choose the trash because they think they are trash. This world is a dumpster, and the people are the maggots that feed on it. Why should I feel guilty about killing a few maggots to save the hive?"
Vespera shifted, her eyes opening slightly. "The Dao doesn't care about 'Guilt,' Rayn. The dragon eats the sheep because it is the dragon's nature. These humans... they are just grass. Whether they are mowed today or tomorrow doesn't change the nature of the field."
At 11:00 AM, the shadow of a nearby alleyway darkened. Catherine emerged, her face a mask of cold professionalism. She led the two workers into a side street under the guise of giving them more "supplies."
Ten minutes later, two wet, thudding sounds echoed.
The bodies were dragged out into the center of the road. Their throats had been opened with surgical precision, the blood soaking into the dozens of pamphlets scattered around them. The white paper turned a sickening, dark crimson.
"HELP! MURDER! THEY KILLED THEM!" a voice shrieked.
Venric appeared, his form shifted into that of a middle-aged woman in tattered clothes. He threw himself onto one of the bodies, his wails echoing through the stone streets. "MY SON! MY POOR SON! He just wanted a job! He just wanted to help Mr. Freddy! THAT BASTARD VICTUS KILLED HIM! HE SAID NO ONE SUPPORTS THE EIGHTH DIVISION AND LIVES!"
The crowd began to gather, their faces pale with shock. The town guards—mostly Division 1 recruits—looked confused and panicked.
By 11:30 AM, the police arrived to clear the bodies. But the seed of doubt was planted. Rayn watched as the whispers began to spread like wildfire. "Did you hear? Victus is killing everyone who supports the Eighth. He's worse than his father."
But Rayn wasn't finished.
An hour later, as the "mother" was being escorted away, Catherine struck again. She tracked down the worker's actual family—their real mothers—who had come looking for him. She silenced them in the same alleyway.
When their bodies were discovered on the exact same spot, the town went into a frenzy. It wasn't just a political murder anymore; it was a massacre of a family.
At the height of the chaos, Freddy made his entrance. He didn't arrive in a carriage; he walked through the crowd, his face twisted in a mask of "righteous fury" and "sorrow."
He approached the sobbing "r+wives" (who were the actual grieving wives of both victims who hadn't been killed yet). Freddy reached into his coat and pulled out two massive bags.
"I am sorry," Freddy roared, his voice amplified by a wind-enchantment so the entire plaza could hear him. "I am so goddamn sorry that my ambition brought this shadow upon your homes! Victus thinks he can scare us into silence! He thinks he can slaughter the innocent to maintain his grip on this town!"
He handed a bag to each of the two remaining family members. "Here. Two million Fazhos. It won't bring your husbands back, but by the Heavens, you will never go hungry again as long as Division 7 stands! ASHBURG WILL NOT BE RULED BY A BUTCHER!"
The crowd erupted. "VICTUS THE BUTCHER! FREDDY THE SHIELD!"
Rayn watched from the shadows, his eyes cold. "Perfect. The sheep have found a new shepherd."
Deep within the Dawinton Estate, Victus sat in his father's study, clutching a report. His face was twisted with a manic, murderous rage.
"That fat fuck Freddy..." Victus hissed, throwing a glass of wine against the wall. "He's playing dirty. He's killing his own people to frame me? He wants a war? Fine."
He looked at the shadow in the corner of the room—the representative from Sterling Town. "Tell Thomas to come today night. If Freddy wants to play the hero, Then make him thinking he was a hero because i am going to end his life tonight in front of Thomas".
Rayn, sitting on his bench, felt a sudden shift in the spiritual pressure of the city. He looked toward the Dawinton Estate and smiled.
"Come on, Victus," Rayn whispered. "Step into the trap. I've already dug the hole... I'm just waiting for you to fall in."