Chapter 8. Hunt in the Shadows

The heavy footsteps of the guards echoed through the lower corridors of the Delvanca Auction House. Stone walls amplified the grating screech of wheels as the glass case was slowly moved. Perched on an old wooden beam above, Rayden followed from the darkness, his breath a controlled, silent rhythm. No stray light touched him. He was a ghost, one with the shadows of this place.

He had anticipated this route. The corridor leading to the deep vault was a distribution channel for high-value artifacts, used only for items too sensitive for the public auction list. The case wasn't being returned to the main warehouse. This was a deviation from the path he’d tracked three nights ago. They were taking it to the innermost storage chamber, a place reserved for high-risk objects.

Rayden moved as the guards heaved open a heavy metal door. He slid behind an iron rack as they passed, making no sound. The moment the door sealed shut again, he slipped closer.

Inside this room, the air was significantly colder. The narrow space was bathed in the cold, blue light of crystalline lamps, illuminating dozens of wooden crates and several spiritual storage tubes. In the center of the room, the glass case was now connected to a scanning apparatus humming with rune-based energy.

Two guards stood watch, checking a control panel. One of them spoke softly, pointing at the screen. "The seal isn't fully active yet, but it's stable enough for transport."

"Get it done. We're using the northern route for pickup. They're waiting at the coordinates before sunrise."

Rayden committed their conversation to memory. The northern route. That wasn't an inner-city distribution line. This was being shipped out, quickly and quietly. His eyes darted to the panel. The script on the screen showed a cargo manifest.

Its shipping code was BX-45. Its destination: Bramasta Reserve Headquarters, Malora Outlands.

He narrowed his eyes. The Outlands meant a logistics network beyond the direct oversight of the Cultivator's Council. This item was being made to disappear.

One of the guards opened a small metal box and took out a roll of shipping documents, reading them aloud in a low voice. "Three objects. Two confirmed internal origin. One… source unknown, entered via a special channel."

Rayden frowned. That had to be the purple plant root he was after. If it was officially unlisted, it meant the Bramastas were hiding it for a reason.

Footsteps approached. Another man entered, different from the first two guards. His clothes were neat, but not a uniform. He carried a scanning rod and wore a spiritual amplification ring on his left hand. From his bearing, Rayden identified him as a mid-level supervisor.

"Prepare for transmission. The item ships tonight."

"Sir, the southern route is more secure," one of the guards suggested.

"Orders from above. Northern route. It's not a request, it's a command."

Rayden knew he had to act fast. He retreated slowly, moving toward a partially open ventilation shaft on the right side of the room. The smell of dust and ozone was sharp, but he crawled on until he found a junction.

A few meters in, he found a small, unmanned control room. A single crystal panel glowed within. He sat before it and began copying the transmission data. The room was warm from the slow pulse of the runes. A few seconds later, the voices from the other room grew louder.

"System active. Runes synchronized. Initiating shipment."

Rayden didn't have time to copy every file, but one folder name caught his eye. [Altair Consortium - Unofficial Shipping Access]

His hands froze. Altair. The name was not foreign. One of the oldest, most reclusive families in the world of cultivators. They never appeared in public, but their influence was everywhere. If the Bramastas were connected to Altair, then this conflict was no longer about a single city, but a massive network moving in the dark.

Before he could open the file, a subtle alarm sounded. Not a blaring siren, but a low-frequency vibration that hummed through the floor. The system had detected a foreign energy signature.

Rayden cursed internally. He closed all the panels and activated an aura jammer he had placed nearby, but he knew it would only buy him a few minutes.

Rapid footsteps approached. A voice called out, "Fluctuation in sector three. Check it now."

Rayden pried open a side ventilation cover and slipped through. The path was narrow and choked with dust, but it was a way out. He crawled quickly, his body one with the cramped, dark space.

At the end of the shaft, he saw a circle of glowing blue runes. A spiritual transportation gate. It was unguarded, but active. The magical hum in the floor told him it had just been powered on.

He jumped through.

For a moment, his body was pulled through a corridor of pure light, the sound a rushing river of energy. Then, darkness. His body spun once before he was ejected.

Rayden landed hard in a small, dusty room. He was surrounded by old cabinets and stacks of scrolls. The air was thick with the scent of damp wood and stone. On one side, faint light filtered in through a wooden grate.

He moved through the room and found a desk with a scratched-out Bramasta crest. But it was a second symbol beneath it that seized his attention.

The Altair Trade Seal.

Rayden pulled a scroll from a nearby stack. On it, a manifest was printed in stark ink.

Code: BX-45 Destination: Altair Central HQ - Sector 2C Sender: Bramasta (Unofficial Transit) Receiver: Altair Consortium (Special Code: Lucien D.)

Rayden gripped the parchment, his knuckles white. This was about something so much bigger.

He leaned his back against the wall, the cold floor grounding him through the soles of his shoes. His hands trembled slightly—not from fear, but from the electric shock of revelation as the disparate pieces of the puzzle slammed into place.

Altair, Bramasta, and a name—Lucien D. They were all on the same path.

He stepped out of the dark room. The night was still long, but an entirely new warpath had just been revealed.