[Demonic Guild Hideout]

Nestled in the countryside, the mansion seemed unremarkable—its weathered stone façade and sprawling gardens gave no hint of the horrors beneath.

But appearances were deceiving.

Beneath the innocent exterior lay a vast underground network of tunnels and chambers, pulsating with dark energy.

I followed the Demonic Guild down a hidden passage, the air growing heavier with every step.

The faint glow of torches lined the walls, casting jagged shadows that danced like wraiths.

The deeper we descended, the stronger the oppressive aura became, until we reached a chamber so vast it swallowed sound.

The heart of their hideout was alive with activity.

Guild members moved with purpose, preparing for their next attack on the world above.

At the center of the chaos stood a large, ominous sphere.

It hovered in the air, radiating an aura that made the hair on my skin stand on end.

Its surface was smooth yet rippling, as if it were alive.

Tendrils of shadowy energy extended from it, latching onto nearby hunters, infusing them with dark mana.

I could feel the raw power emanating from it—a strange, intoxicating mix of strength and corruption.

“This is the source of their power,” I muttered under my breath, stepping closer.

The Guild members turned to me, their expressions a mix of reverence and fear.

One of them, a wiry man with hollow eyes, spoke in a hushed tone.

“It’s the Demonic Sphere, the heart of our strength. With it, we can rise beyond the limits of ordinary hunters.”

Curious, I reached out and let my fingers brush its surface.

A jolt of energy surged through me, like an electric current, sending a shiver down my spine.

I closed my eyes, focusing on the sensation, trying to decipher its nature.

It felt similar to my dungeon core, but darker, more chaotic.

I wondered how this sphere might interact with my creations.

Could I integrate its energy into my golem cores, enhancing their power?

The possibilities ignited a spark of excitement in me.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

But I kept my thoughts hidden, for now.

Turning to the leader of the Demonic Guild, Kevin—a tall man with sharp features and eyes that burned like embers—I posed a question.

“What’s your next move?”

Kevin crossed his arms, his brow furrowing in thought.

The room grew quiet as the others awaited his decision.

“I’m considering a few options,” he began, but his hesitation was clear.

An idea sparked in my mind, one that could serve both their goals and mine.

I stepped forward, my voice calm but deliberate.

“Why not target the prisons?”

The room shifted, all eyes turning to me.

Kevin tilted his head, intrigued. “Prisons? Why?”

I allowed a small smile to curl my lips.

“Think about it. The prisons house some of the most dangerous criminals—many of whom despise the guilds and the hunters who put them there. Freeing them would create chaos on a massive scale. The guilds would be forced to divert their attention and resources to recapturing the escapees, leaving their bases vulnerable. It’s the perfect distraction.”

Kevin stared at me for a long moment, as if weighing my motives, then nodded.

“It’s a solid plan. We’ll do it.”

“I’ll lend you some of my golems,” I added. “They’ll ensure your success.”

“You’re not coming with us?” Kevin asked, narrowing his eyes.

“I have other matters to attend to,” I replied smoothly, my tone leaving no room for argument.

“But my creations will be more than enough to support you.”

Kevin hesitated, then relented. “Fine. We’ll move at dawn. You’d better deliver on your promise.”

As the meeting dissolved into preparations, I turned back to the Black Sphere, my mind racing with plans of my own.

Chaos was only the beginning.

--------

[Black Serpent Guild Headquarters]

The dimly lit chamber of the Black Serpent Guild was a hive of activity, with shadows darting between walls covered in maps, charts, and pinned reports.

Cain stood at the center, his emerald-green eyes scanning a document with razor-sharp focus.

His aura exuded cold authority, silencing any unnecessary chatter.

Arlen, the head of the intelligence department, entered hesitantly.

Despite years of working under Cain, he could never fully predict his leader's methods—or stomach them.

Cain didn’t look up.

"Arlen," he began, his tone sharp and decisive, "tell our subsidiary guilds to monitor these three prisons."

Arlen raised an eyebrow, glancing at the map spread before them.

Three red-marked prisons stood out like bloodstains on the parchment.

"Why, sir? What's your reasoning?"

Cain set down the document and finally met Arel's gaze.

His voice carried a cold certainty.

"The Demonic Guild will attack them. It's only a matter of time."

Arlen frowned. "What makes you so certain?"

Cain’s expression darkened, his mind working as if piecing together an invisible puzzle.

"Think about it. Their goal is chaos, to destabilize us and make us scatter. What better way to achieve that than to unleash hundreds of criminals, some of whom are powerful enough to tip the scales in their favor? Not only would it sow panic, but they’d also gain new allies in the process."

Arlen’s breath hitched as the realization struck.

"And these prisons," Cain continued, tapping the map with deliberate precision, "house some of the most dangerous criminals in the region. They’re also positioned near key cities—prime locations for causing maximum damage."

"Then we need to alert the prison officials immediately!"

Arlen’s voice was edged with urgency.

"If we act now, we can reinforce the defenses and protect the people nearby."

"No." Cain’s answer was immediate, his tone absolute.

Arlen stared at him in disbelief.

"No? But sir, lives are at stake! If we wait, innocent people will die."

Cain’s gaze didn’t waver, his voice calm but unyielding.

"People will die regardless. The difference lies in how many. If we tip off the prison officials, word will spread, and the Demonic Guild will adjust their plans. We’ll lose our chance to catch them."

The room felt colder as Cain continued.

"I’m not interested in saving a handful of lives today, only to lose thousands tomorrow. Sacrifices are inevitable. If we capture the Demonic Guild operatives and stop this at its root, we’ll save far more in the long run."

Arlen clenched his fists, his jaw tightening.

"And what about the innocent civilians near those prisons? What about the guards? The families living nearby?"

Cain’s expression softened, but only slightly.

He sighed, the weight of his decisions evident in the faint furrow of his brow.

"I won’t pretend this is easy. I’m not blind to the cost. But I’ve made my choice. You can save the minority and lose the majority, or sacrifice the minority and secure the future. I choose the latter."

Arlen’s silence was heavy.

He hated this part of his job—watching the pragmatism that made Cain a brilliant leader also turn him into a figure of cold, calculated ruthlessness.

As if sensing Arlen’s unease, Cain spoke again.

"I’m not asking you to agree with me. Just follow my orders."

He paused, then added, "Tell the guilds to prioritize capturing the Demonic Guild members alive. We need them for interrogation. And if there’s any chance to save civilians, take it."

That last line caught Arlen off guard.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to remind him that Cain wasn’t heartless—just pragmatic to a fault.

After a moment, Arlen asked quietly, "Why didn’t you mention this plan during the meeting with Lionheart?"

Cain chuckled dryly, a rare hint of amusement in his otherwise cold demeanor.

"Lionheart wouldn’t have agreed. They cling to their ideals, even when those ideals put lives at risk. And besides..."

His voice dropped, becoming more serious.

"I don’t trust everyone in that room. There could be spies. Loose lips would ruin everything."

Arel nodded slowly, though his heart still wrestled with the implications. "Understood, sir."

As Arlen turned to leave, Cain’s voice stopped him one last time.

"Arlen," he said, softer now, "this isn’t just about winning. It’s about ending this war before it consumes everything. Remember that."

Arlen looked back, catching the faintest flicker of regret in Cain’s eyes before he turned away, back to his work.