Marketu stood by the crackling fire, watching his men encircle the Whisperers, the twins, and Rohak. The flickering light played against his features, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
"Do you want to check the quality of the weapons now?" he asked, voice laced with mockery.
Raghav's fingers tightened around his blade. Rudra, standing beside him, flicked his eyes across the enemies—fifty armed warriors, well-trained, their grips firm, stances balanced. These were no mere factory guards.
A moment passed like the calm before a storm.
Then chaos erupted.
The Whisperers struck first, their blades glinting as they lunged at the nearest opponents. Four men went down in an instant, blood spilling onto the earth. Raghav and Rudra moved in perfect synchrony, weaving between enemies, their knives flashing like lightning. Rohak met the first attacker head-on, parrying a vicious strike before slamming his knee into the man's stomach and twisting his blade through his ribs.
Marketu's warriors retaliated with ruthless precision. Spears thrust forward, swords clashed, and the campfire cast monstrous shadows of the fighters locked in deadly combat. The Whisperers fought with skill and agility, but they were outnumbered.
Rudra slashed across an enemy's chest before spinning to deflect an incoming blade. He ducked under a wide swing, stabbed upward, and felt the resistance of flesh. Beside him, Raghav parried a spear thrust, breaking the weapon's shaft with his own knife before driving the shattered end into the wielder's throat. Rohak moved like a tempest, hacking through the opposition, his roars echoing in the night.
But for every enemy they killed, another replaced him.
Marketu himself entered the stage. He was no mere factory master—his movements were sharp, calculated. His blade met Raghav's in a clash of steel. "You never should have meddled, boy," Marketu sneered, driving forward with relentless aggression. Raghav blocked twice, barely avoiding a lethal cut, but Marketu was a seasoned fighter. A well-placed kick sent Raghav stumbling back, gasping for breath.
Meanwhile, Rudra and Rohak fought side by side, cutting down warriors, but the Whisperers were falling. A scream rang out as one of them was run through by a spear. Another was overwhelmed by three men, his body collapsing under their relentless strikes. A dagger flew through the air and buried itself in the throat of a third. Four Whisperers lay dead. The rest were growing desperate.
Raghav barely avoided Marketu's next slash, but the blade caught his arm, drawing blood. Rudra was bleeding too, a deep cut along his ribs. Rohak's breathing had turned ragged. They could not keep this up.
The realization sank in like ice in their veins.
"Stop!" Rudra shouted, chest heaving. He lifted his weapon, then dropped it to the ground. Raghav followed suit, his jaw clenched with frustration. Rohak hesitated, then did the same. The remaining Whisperers, seeing their leaders yield, lowered their weapons.
Marketu's lips curled into a smile. "A wise choice."
The remaining warriors wasted no time in restraining the prisoners. Their hands were bound, their weapons confiscated. Marketu turned to his men. "Take them to the factory. Hurry. There are worse things in this jungle than me."
His words lingered, heavy with meaning.
Rudra and Raghav exchanged a glance. The mystery killer. The one who had slaughtered the smugglers before. Marketu feared him too. But tonight, it was Marketu's trap that had ensnared them.
Bound and bloodied, they were led away from the battlefield, leaving behind the corpses of their fallen comrades.
---
The factory emerged in the moonlight, its smokestacks dark against the night sky. The prisoners were dragged inside, thrown into cells. Marketu locked the gates himself, satisfied.
One of his men approached. "Message sent to the castle. We told them the twins and Rohak are tracking smugglers. Said they'd be back in two days."
Marketu nodded. "Good. Let them stew in uncertainty."
---
At the castle, Arya read the message. His fingers tightened around the parchment. Something felt wrong, but the words gave him pause.
He exhaled. Two days. He would wait.
For now.