God’s Tree

The city of Val'Haren never truly slept.

Even in the deepest hours of the night, torches burned bright, whispers filled darkened alleys, and unseen figures moved through the streets with silent purpose.

For Argolaith and Kaelred, the victory against the noble's private army secured their alliance with the Silver Fang Mercenaries, but it also painted a bigger target on their backs.

The Black Thorn Syndicate would not take this insult lightly.

As Argolaith sat at the corner table of the Silver Fang Guild Hall, Kaelred across from him, they both knew—a storm was coming.

"How long do you think before the Syndicate retaliates?" Kaelred asked, tapping his fingers against the wooden table.

Argolaith smirked. "Hopefully soon. I'm getting bored."

Kaelred groaned. "You have a death wish."

Across the room, Malakar chuckled, his eerie presence always lurking just beyond the edge of their comfort. "It's not a death wish," he said, his voice smooth but amused. "He just enjoys the thrill of survival."

Kaelred shot Malakar a look. "You're enjoying this too much."

Malakar shrugged. "Naturally."

Before the conversation could continue, a Silver Fang mercenary approached.

"The Guildmaster wants to see you."

Argolaith and Kaelred exchanged a glance, then rose to their feet.

Something was happening.

The Silver Fang Guildmaster, her silver hair gleaming under the lantern light, stood with her arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

"You two have stirred up a bigger problem than you realize."

Kaelred frowned. "What do you mean?"

The Guildmaster tossed a bloodstained note onto the table.

Argolaith picked it up and read the words aloud.

"Val'Haren is not your battleground. Leave now, or be erased."

The seal at the bottom of the letter was not from the Black Thorn Syndicate—but from an unknown faction.

Malakar raised an eyebrow. "Well, well. Looks like you have more enemies than you thought."

The Guildmaster's gaze hardened. "I've seen this mark before. It belongs to the 'Veiled Order.' They're… different from the Syndicate. More calculated. More deadly."

Kaelred cursed. "Great. Another group that wants us dead."

Argolaith grinned. "Keeps things interesting."

The Guildmaster's patience was thinning. "I'm not here to babysit you. You wanted protection from the Syndicate? Fine. But the Veiled Order? That's another matter entirely. If they want you gone, they'll make it happen. Quickly."

Kaelred exhaled. "So what do we do?"

The Guildmaster folded her arms. "You have two options: Get out of the city while you still can… or stay and fight."

Argolaith smirked. "We're not running."

The Guildmaster sighed. "I figured you'd say that."

Malakar leaned against the wall. "So, what's the plan?"

The Guildmaster hesitated, then finally said, "We need to find out what the Veiled Order truly wants. No one makes a move in this city without a reason."

Kaelred muttered, "Why do I feel like we're about to do something really stupid?"

Argolaith grinned. "Because we are."

The streets of Val'Haren were eerily quiet as Argolaith, Kaelred, and Malakar made their way through the winding alleyways.

The Veiled Order wasn't a common gang—they were ghosts, lurking in the shadows, pulling strings from behind the scenes. Experience tales with My Virtual Library Empire

Their only lead was a merchant who was rumored to have dealings with them.

A man named Varik.

As they neared the market district, Malakar's voice was low. "Be careful. The Order doesn't like outsiders meddling in their business."

Argolaith smirked. "That's never stopped us before."

Kaelred sighed. "I swear, one day you're going to get us both killed."

They found Varik's stall, a small, unassuming shop filled with rare magical trinkets and weapons.

The merchant, an older man with graying hair and sharp eyes, noticed them immediately.

"You're not here to buy, are you?"

Argolaith stepped forward. "We need information."

Varik chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't get involved in things that don't concern me."

Kaelred leaned on the counter, smirking. "That's funny, because we heard the Veiled Order does concern you."

The merchant's smile faded.

Malakar watched silently, his glowing eyes observing every subtle movement the man made.

Varik exhaled. "You shouldn't be asking these questions."

Argolaith's grip tightened on his sword. "And yet, here we are."

The merchant hesitated, then finally spoke.

"The Veiled Order doesn't kill without reason. If they sent you a warning, it means you've interfered with something important. Something big."

Kaelred frowned. "Like what?"

Varik shook his head. "I don't know. But I do know this—whatever they're planning, it's already in motion. And if you don't leave now… you'll find out the hard way."

Malakar chuckled darkly. "Oh, we love finding things out the hard way."

Varik glanced between them, then lowered his voice.

"If you really want answers, go to the abandoned temple in the old quarter. Midnight. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Argolaith smirked. "We'll take our chances."

Kaelred sighed. "Of course we will."

As they left the merchant behind, the weight of their decision settled in.

Whatever the Veiled Order was planning, they were about to step right into the heart of it.

And there would be no turning back.

Midnight hung over Val'Haren like a silent omen. The moonlight barely touched the streets, shrouding the city in darkness as Argolaith, Kaelred, and Malakar approached the old quarter.

The air felt heavier, thick with an unnatural stillness. Even the usual late-night whispers of the city's underbelly were absent.

Kaelred adjusted his sword belt. "I have a bad feeling about this."

Argolaith smirked. "When do you not?"

Malakar chuckled in the shadows. "This time, he might be right. The Veiled Order probably doesn't hold meetings for casual conversation."

The abandoned temple loomed ahead, its massive stone pillars cracked and worn by time. Once a place of worship, now it was a husk of its former self, its great entrance doors barely hanging on their rusted hinges.

The three of them moved silently, stepping over shattered marble and scattered debris as they entered the temple.

The air inside was stifling, filled with the scent of burned incense and aged parchment.

At the far end of the main hall, dozens of robed figures stood in a circle, their faces hidden beneath deep hoods.

In the center of their formation, a single man knelt before a black altar, his wrists bound in silver chains.

Kaelred muttered under his breath. "That can't be good."

Argolaith's hand hovered over his sword hilt. "Looks like we're just in time."

One of the robed figures stepped forward, their voice low and commanding.

"The time has come to cleanse our ranks of weakness."

The kneeling man struggled against his chains. "Please! I have done nothing wrong!"

Another figure, taller than the rest, lifted a curved ceremonial dagger.

Malakar whispered, "This isn't a meeting. It's an execution."

Kaelred cursed. "So what do we do? Watch?"

Argolaith grinned, drawing his sword. "You already know the answer to that."

The dagger was raised high.

The air seemed to hum with dark energy.

And then—

Argolaith moved.

The Veiled Order barely had time to react before Argolaith's sword carved through the first robed figure.

Kaelred followed, his blade a blur of steel as he cut down another.

The circle of figures erupted into chaos, their chants replaced by shouted orders and drawn weapons.

Malakar, his eyes glowing faintly, whispered a dark incantation, sending a wave of black mist curling around the temple.

The lights flickered.

The shadows deepened.

And the fight descended into madness.

Argolaith clashed swords with a masked figure, their blades sparking in the dim temple light.

He sidestepped, then drove his elbow into the figure's ribs, sending them crashing into the altar.

Kaelred ducked as a dagger flew past his ear, then retaliated with a precise strike, his sword finding its mark.

Malakar, meanwhile, moved like a phantom, summoning spectral blades that lashed out from the darkness, striking down enemies before they could react.

The Veiled Order fought back fiercely, their attacks fast and coordinated—but Argolaith, Kaelred, and Malakar were faster.

The bound man at the altar shouted, "Help me!"

Kaelred dashed forward, slicing through the chains with one swift strike.

The freed man stumbled but grabbed a fallen weapon. "Thank you—who are you?"

Argolaith grinned. "The people ruining your captors' night."

Just as the last of the robed figures fell, a door behind the altar creaked open.

A man in deep crimson robes stepped out, his presence commanding the room.

His eyes were completely black, and his hands pulsed with dark energy.

Malakar's expression darkened. "I know that magic…"

The man's voice was smooth but laced with power. "Impressive. But did you truly think you could walk into our domain unchallenged?"

Argolaith tightened his grip on his sword. "I was hoping."

The man smirked—and then raised his hand.

A shockwave of dark energy exploded outward, hurling Argolaith, Kaelred, and the freed prisoner across the temple.

Malakar stood firm, his own magic absorbing the attack.

The air turned ice-cold.

The true battle was about to begin.