Rain softened to a drizzle as Kian walked through the morning bustle of Draegor's local market. The scent of baked bread and sizzling meat wafted through narrow alleys, mixing with mana smoke from street vendors selling talismans and repair charms. His hood was low over his eyes, but his thoughts were elsewhere.
Guilds. Power. Influence.
He'd been observing them for months, and the picture was becoming clearer.
The five major guilds that ruled Draegor and its surrounding territories held the city in their iron grasp:
1. Crimson Pact: Masters of fire and assassination. Guildmaster Varein led them with unrelenting force.
2. Arc Blades: Speed, augmentation, and rune-enhanced warfare. Their cybernetic Guildmaster, Selyn Valtor, commanded fear and respect.
3. Order of Iron: The militant arm of Draegor. Earth magic and brutal tactics defined them under Guildmaster Daemar Clay.
4. Luna Assembly: Diplomats and illusionists, often working in shadows. Guildmistress Celia Mohr spun webs across nations.
5. Abyss Choir: Secretive, arcane, and disturbing. Rumors said their guildmaster was not human at all.
Above them sat the Nation Guild Council, each Guildmaster a seated member. Together, they governed dungeons, the economy, education, and more. To the public, they were protectors. To Kian, they were gatekeepers.
He carried a loaf of bread under one arm and a bag of fruit in the other as he walked home.
Their house stood on the edge of the third district, nestled between an abandoned forge and a restored mana well. A modest three-bedroom dwelling with weathered stone walls, reinforced windows, and mana threads etched into the foundation. It had once belonged to a retired artificer and was perfect for a family of three.
Inside, Nyla and Dael were already awake. Nyla, ten years old now, was sketching dreamlike cityscapes in her notebook. Dael, a curious and spirited twelve, was dismantling a broken mana lamp with a screwdriver.
Kian set the bread on the counter and began cooking.
"Smells good," Nyla said, hopping off her stool.
Kian smiled softly as he set down the bread. "We're trying eggs today. Be brave."
Dael raised an eyebrow. "Last time, the yolk fought back."
"That was one time," Kian muttered, turning to the pan. "And it was expired."
Nyla giggled. "We should have named it."
They sat together, eating a simple meal of herb-fried eggs and toasted mana-bread. The warmth wasn't in the food, but in the company. Kian found moments like this... grounding. Human.
Later, he handed each a small pouch. "Lunch. There's a sweet talk in there, don't fight over it."
"Victory will be mine," Dael whispered dramatically.
"No chance," Nyla replied, already pocketing hers.
They ate together, laughter and quiet warmth filling the room. Kian watched them, memorizing the moment.
Later, he packed their lunches and helped them prepare for school. It was a small community academy nearby, one that accepted unregistered children and had decent mana shielding. He paid for it through his merchant persona.
Kian watched them quietly. Nyla was small for her age, but clever. Dael had the kind of instinct that made good engineers or dangerous mages. Both of them had something he didn't at their age, safety.
They didn't know about his power.
They didn't need to.
"You're just working again?" Dael asked, adjusting his school satchel.
"Yeah," Kian lied easily. "Trading junk with the market vendors."
They waved goodbye. Kian stood in the doorway until they disappeared down the alley. Then, his expression hardened.
He turned and headed toward the ruins near the East Quarter.
His real work began.
He had a raid today.
For the past month, this had been his cycle: take care of his siblings, then raid unregistered dungeons to accumulate power. He never used his real name. He never summoned his undead unless absolutely necessary. His status as Graveborn Heir and necromancer was a secret known only to the system and himself.
Today, he approached a fresh breach hidden near the overgrown rail tunnels of the East Quarter. But someone was already there.
Kian crouched behind a broken wall, scanning the scene. Three figures. Lightly armored but coordinated. Likely freelancers or rogue hunters.
"Stable entry," one said, running a scanner across the shimmering veil.
"Quick run. We split three ways," said another with a crooked scar across his jaw.
A third, much younger—barely out of school—fidgeted nervously.
Kian watched, planning to observe. But suddenly, the older hunter shoved the rookie forward.
The veil shattered. A beast, all horns and fury, lunged from within. The rookie was tossed aside like a rag doll.
Kian's eyes narrowed. They were using him as bait.
"Cruel move," Kian said, stepping from the shadows.
The men froze. "Who the hell?"
Kian didn't wait.
A cold notification flashed:
System Task Triggered: Eliminate Betrayers
Task Reward: Rare Soul Core Fragment
Failure Penalty: Death
He had no choice.
Kian darted forward. No undead. Just speed and precision. He snapped one attacker's arm and drove his dagger into his heart.
The second lunged, but Kian sidestepped and slammed a boot into his kneecap, then jabbed his elbow into the man's temple.
The third raised a blade, shaking but Kian disarmed him, slammed his head into the stone wall, and let him drop.
System Update: Task Complete
Reward: Rare Soul Core Fragment
Codex Update: Infiltration Success (Solo)
Kian turned to the injured rookie, who looked up in fear.
"They were going to kill you," Kian said.
"Wh-who are you?" the boy stammered.
"No one you need to remember. Get out. Tell no one."
He vanished before the rookie could ask more.
Back in his lair, Kian examined the loot. Mana shards, a few gear pieces, and something more—a damaged core.
He crushed it between his hands. Dark mana flowed into his veins. Pain lanced through him, but so did understanding. He absorbed it.
He was building something more than strength.
A foundation.
His plan crystallized. A guild, but not recognized by the council. One made of ghosts: orphans, nomads, scavengers, and betrayed.
The Hollow Banner.
He drafted networks, mapped districts, and started bribing information brokers. The first recruits would need to be invisible, just like him.
And from the shadows, they would grow.
When the time came, Draegor wouldn't even see the noose tightening.
End of Chapter 6