NOVEL WEB Chapter 48: Important Piece
The auction house stood as a blazing skeleton behind them, its grand pillars now cracked and blackened, flames licking upward into the smoke-choked sky. Screams had long faded into silence, replaced by the crackle of fire and the occasional collapsing beam.
Dazamer stood at the forefront, Zynara beside him, arms crossed, bathed in the flickering orange light.
Then, through the flames, she emerged.
Rahna strode out of the inferno like a vengeful war goddess—bloodied, unbent, and still burning with golden mana. Behind her, a group of frightened but now-free beastkin slaves followed in her wake, chains broken, eyes wide with a mix of hope and fear.
Dazamer began to clap slowly, a delighted smirk on his face.
"That was stellar work," he said, voice rich with amusement. "Truly breathtaking, Rahna. You're absolutely stunning—as expected of a hero."
Rahna's teeth clenched visibly. Her golden eyes flicked toward him, glowing faintly.
"I'm not your damn underling," she snapped, her voice low and venom-laced. "So quit it with that pretentious nice guy act. You're creeping me out… because I know you're a rotten bastard underneath all that silk and polish."
Dazamer gave an exaggerated gasp, pressing a hand to his chest like a wounded gentleman. "Oh my… where are your manners?"
Rahna didn't even bother with a retort. Instead, she reached into her satchel, yanked something out, and tossed it.
The severed head of the Syndicate branch leader hit the dirt with a dull thud, rolling to a stop at Dazamer's feet.
"I'm done for tonight," she muttered. "Give me the next location. Let's get this over with."
Dazamer looked down at the head with idle curiosity, then knelt and picked it up by the hair. As he raised it, his hand shimmered with golden light. The head twitched, crumpled, then—burst.
In a flash of golden shimmer, it disintegrated into dozens of gleaming coins that fell to the ground with musical clinks.
He caught a handful and let them slide through his fingers with a sigh.
"So small…" he said quietly. "But then, what did I expect? He was human scum."
Dazamer dusted his hands off and turned his back to the scorched wreckage, voice calm but final.
"You're all free tonight. In fact… I won't be needing your help for a while."
Rahna blinked, momentarily stunned. "What the hell? That wasn't our deal."
He stopped mid-step, only half-turning as his golden eyes glinted with faint amusement.
"Indeed. Our deal didn't include you stomping all over my plans. The nobles who survived tonight need to flee and scream. Let them spread the tale—the terror. It'll make the next strike hit harder. And on that note… I bid you farewell."
He pointed toward a distant alley, half-hidden by smoke.
"I suggest you lead your people to the accommodations I prepared. That is… before the city guard arrives."
And with that, he resumed walking, a lazy wave over his shoulder.
"Later now."
Rahna's fists clenched as her ears twitched in frustration.
"You think you can just order me around? Dismiss me whenever it suits you?! I only agreed to come because you promised I'd be able to free my people! I'm not going anywhere until you give me the next—"
She froze.
A cold sting kissed the side of her neck. A blade.
Her eyes narrowed, confused.
Zynara had been standing in front of her. So how—
"Easy now," Zynara cooed sweetly, suddenly behind her like a ghost, lips close to her ear. "You're being so hot-blooded. Didn't you get enough action for one night?"
Rahna jerked slightly, trying to glance back. "How… how did you get behind me?"
Zynara giggled, the blade never leaving her skin.
"That doesn't matter now, darling. What does matter… is that when the boss says 'later,' you don't argue."
Rahna snarled. "Or what?"
She got her answer immediately.
The knife pressed in just a little deeper, drawing a sharp line of blood.
Zynara's voice lost all of its sweetness, replaced by ice.
"Or I'll send you off to the afterlife, I've heard a rumor heroes are allowed to reincarnate with their memories, maybe you'll be born as a human girl with a family that sells beast kin slaves."
Rahna gritted her teeth, "I doubt your boss will let you do that, I am important to his plan."
"Important piece or not… I won't stand here and let you disrespect the boss."
Rahna's breath caught in her throat as the cold steel kissed deeper into her skin.
The blood trickling down her neck felt strangely hot in contrast. Her instincts screamed at her to strike, to lash out with every ounce of the golden mana still burning in her veins. But she held still, body trembling—not from fear, but from restraint.
The beastkin behind her stood frozen, wide-eyed and afraid. Some clutched each other; others still held broken chains in their hands like talismans. Freedom, so recently gained, now dangled on the knife's edge.
"I understand." Rahna said calmly.
"Good girl," Zynara murmured with a delighted smile, tone returning to a sickly sweetness as she eased the pressure ever so slightly. "See? We can all play nice when we try."
"Don't push me," Rahna growled, golden eyes flickering. "You might regret it."
Zynara leaned in, her breath brushing Rahna's ear like a whisper of winter. "You really don't get it, do you?" she said, voice laced with amusement. "You're a tool. A weapon. And just because you're a pretty one with claws doesn't mean you get to run wild when you want to."
With that, she pulled the blade back. The tension snapped like a cord, and Rahna whirled on her, fists clenched and eyes blazing. But Zynara was already walking away, nonchalant, as though she hadn't just threatened her life.
"Don't worry," Zynara added over her shoulder. "You'll get your next target when the boss decides you've earned it."
Rahna's lip curled in a snarl, but she didn't pursue. Not because she couldn't—but because she knew the truth. As much as she hated to admit it, Dazamer held the reins. He always had. She had walked into this alliance thinking she could use him—but it was clearer than ever that she was the one being used.
Her gaze drifted to the beastkin. One of the younger girls—a foxkin no older than ten—clutched the torn remains of her collar with trembling fingers. Her eyes met Rahna's, silently pleading.
Rahna exhaled slowly and wiped the blood from her neck.
"Tch. Bastard," she muttered under her breath, then turned to the group.
"Move," she said, voice hardening. "There's a safe house nearby. You follow me, or you wait here for the guards to round you up and sell you all over again. Your choice."
They didn't hesitate. The fear of the unknown was nothing compared to the horrors they had just escaped. The line of freed slaves began to move behind her, silent and wary.
The walk to the accommodations was quiet but heavy, the kind of silence that crept into the bones. Ash rained gently from the sky like snow, clinging to Rahna's hair and shoulders as the fires behind them continued to devour what was once the grand auction house.
Rahna kept glancing over her shoulder, half-expecting more tricks, more blades, more smiles with knives hidden beneath. But none came. Zynara and Dazamer had vanished like ghosts into the night.
When they reached the alley Dazamer had mentioned, Rahna found the entrance to an old cellar beneath a collapsed bakery. Inside, the space had been cleaned and reinforced. Blankets lined the floor, supplies stacked neatly in crates. It was no palace, but it was safe—at least for now.
The beastkin filtered in slowly. Some collapsed immediately. Others, still too shocked to rest, sat in corners, staring at the flickering lanterns like they weren't real.
Rahna stood by the entrance, watching them with a knot tightening in her gut. She didn't like the way things had gone down tonight. Too clean. Too controlled. Dazamer hadn't just wanted the Syndicate dead—he'd wanted a show. And she'd given it to him. Like a good little pawn.
She cursed under her breath and punched the wall, hard enough to send a crack through the old stone.
A moment later, she heard a soft voice behind her.
"You saved us…"
Rahna turned.
It was the foxkin girl. Her eyes were wide, rimmed with soot, but steady.
Rahna blinked, caught off guard. "I didn't do it for thanks."
The girl hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Still… thank you."
Rahna knelt down to meet her gaze, softening just a little. "What's your name?"
"Seri."
"Well, Seri… stick close to the others. Don't wander. Things are… complicated right now."
Seri gave a shaky smile. "You'll protect us, right?"
Rahna froze.
That word again. Protector. Hero.
Her thoughts flashed back to Dazamer's mocking applause, Zynara's knife, the way her golden mana had flared as she tore through slavers, she was more of a wild beast then a hero... And often at times it made her more of a liability then an asset.
"I'll try," she said finally. "But if anyone comes for you again… I'll make them regret it."
Seri nodded and scampered back to the others.
Rahna stood alone in the shadows of the ruined cellar, staring at the wall but seeing something far beyond it. The golden light in her veins had faded now, leaving only a dull ache in its place.
She had power. She had rage. She had a purpose.
But tonight had proven something else—Dazamer could still control her path, leash her when it suited him, and send his wolves when she barked too loudly.
And she hated that more than anything.
Her jaw tightened.
"This isn't over," she muttered to herself.
Not by a long shot.