The air around Blackspire Keep hung heavy with a tense calm, the kind that lingered before a storm. In the days since the nobles’ defeat, the rebellion had surged forward—fortifying their stronghold, expanding their arsenal, and recruiting more fighters to their cause. But amidst the clamor of progress, Juri Winkler couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that danger was closing in.

He stood in his workshop, surrounded by schematics and half-finished prototypes. The Dominion-class Mech loomed nearby, its reinforced frame gleaming in the light of the lanterns. Despite the activity around him, Juri’s sharp blue eyes were distant, his thoughts elsewhere.

“Still overthinking?” Kira’s voice cut through the din, snapping Juri out of his trance.

He turned to see her leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed and a wry smirk on her face.

“Always,” Juri replied, gesturing to the cluttered table. “The nobles don’t make the same mistake twice. Whatever they send next will be worse than Eclipse.”

“Let them come,” Kira said. “We’ve faced their worst before.”

Juri shook his head. “No, we’ve faced their experiments. They’re playing games with us, trying to test how far we can go. But we’re not their test subjects. This time, we set the rules.”

Far from the bustle of Blackspire, in the shadows of the dense forests surrounding the keep, a lone figure moved with practiced silence. Ashara Valk, the assassin hired by Lorian Vehr, was a ghost—silent, unseen, and deadly. Clad in dark leathers enchanted for stealth, her movements were fluid, almost inhuman.

She reached the edge of the forest and crouched, her amber eyes scanning the walls of Blackspire Keep. The rebels had reinforced the outer defenses, adding watchtowers and patrols. To most, it would have seemed impenetrable.

But Ashara wasn’t most people.

She touched the runes etched into her gloves, activating a spell that blurred her figure into the surroundings. To any onlooker, she would appear as a faint shimmer, easily mistaken for a trick of the light.

“This is where it ends, Winkler,” she murmured, her voice barely audible over the whisper of the wind.

Inside Blackspire, the rebels were unaware of the danger creeping toward them. The core leadership gathered in the main hall to discuss their next moves, the room buzzing with anticipation.

Juri stood at the head of the table, a map of the region spread before him. He gestured to a cluster of noble-controlled towns to the east.

“These towns are key to the nobles’ supply chain,” Juri explained. “If we take them, we cut off their access to food, weapons, and reinforcements. It’ll force them to divert resources from their main forces to protect their logistics.”

Halrick grinned, slamming a fist into his palm. “Sounds like a good time for a raid.”

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“We’re not raiding,” Juri said, his tone firm. “We’re taking control. If we can secure these towns, we establish safe zones for more recruits and create a buffer around Blackspire.”

Kira frowned. “That’s a big move, Juri. We don’t have the numbers to hold that much territory.”

“Not yet,” Juri admitted. “But we have the machines. And if we take their supplies, we’ll have the resources to grow even faster.”

The room fell silent as the rebels considered the plan.

“High risk, high reward,” Garrick said finally. “I’m in.”

As the meeting ended and the rebels dispersed, Ashara moved through the shadows of the keep. She had slipped past the outer defenses with ease, her enchanted boots making no sound against the stone. The bustle of the rebels worked in her favor—no one noticed the faint shimmer that passed through the courtyard.

Her target was clear.

Ashara reached the workshop where Juri often spent his evenings, her dagger glinting faintly in the moonlight. The blade was enchanted with runes that would pierce even the strongest armor. A single strike, and the rebellion’s leader would fall.

But when she entered the workshop, she found it empty.

“Smart,” Ashara muttered, her voice barely audible. She crouched, scanning the room. Tools were neatly arranged, and blueprints were spread across the table, but there were no signs of movement.

Then she heard it—a faint hum.

Ashara turned just in time to see an Adaptive Drone scuttling out of the shadows, its mounted Repeater aimed directly at her.

“Found you,” Juri’s voice crackled through the drone’s speaker.

Ashara moved with lightning speed, leaping out of the way as the drone fired. The bullets tore into the wall behind her, but she was already moving, her dagger slicing through the drone’s sensor array in one fluid motion.

Juri stepped out from behind a stack of crates, holding a small device in his hand. His sharp blue eyes were calm, calculating.

“Not bad,” he said. “But you’re in over your head.”

Ashara charged at Juri, her dagger a blur as it sliced through the air. Juri dodged, narrowly avoiding the blade as he activated another drone with a flick of his wrist. The machine fired a burst of bullets, forcing Ashara to retreat.

“You’ve done your homework,” Juri said, circling her. “You knew how to get in, how to find me. But you underestimated one thing.”

“And what’s that?” Ashara asked, her voice cold.

“I’m always ready,” Juri said.

He pressed a button on his device, and the Dominion roared to life outside the workshop. The ground trembled as the mech’s massive frame moved toward the building, its shadow falling over the courtyard.

Ashara’s eyes narrowed. “You think that thing will save you?”

Juri smirked. “No. But it’ll keep you busy.”

The Dominion’s Repeater fired, the rounds tearing through the workshop’s outer wall. Ashara leapt through a shattered window, disappearing into the shadows.

Juri followed, his mind racing. The assassin was fast—too fast for a direct confrontation. But speed wasn’t everything.

As Ashara darted through the keep, evading drones and rebel patrols, she realized Juri wasn’t chasing her—he was herding her. Every corridor led to a dead end or a trap.

She turned a corner and froze. Juri stood at the far end of the hallway, flanked by Kira and Halrick. Behind them, the Dominion loomed, its weapons trained on her.

“End of the line,” Kira said, her dagger in hand.

Ashara considered her options. She could fight, but the odds were stacked against her.

Instead, she smiled faintly. “Well played, Winkler.”

She threw a smoke bomb to the ground, the corridor filling with thick, choking clouds. When the smoke cleared, she was gone.

The rebels searched the keep, but Ashara had vanished. Juri stood in the courtyard, his expression grim.

“She’ll be back,” Kira said.

“I know,” Juri replied. “And next time, she won’t come alone.”

Halrick grinned. “We’ll be ready for her.”

Juri nodded, though his sharp blue eyes remained fixed on the horizon. The assassin’s failure was a victory, but it was also a warning. The nobles weren’t just trying to crush the rebellion—they were coming for him personally.

And Juri wasn’t about to let them win.