The eight silhouettes walking from the İçmeler shore toward the backstreets of Gümbet were no different from the dead in the midnight rain of Bodrum. Their footsteps were drowned out in muddy puddles, the blood and seawater seeping from their torn robes mixing with the asphalt. Darius was at the very front. There was the ruthless rhythm of a machine in his steps. He didn’t look back, because left behind at the bottom of that sea lay Efsun, the last crumb of his humanity. Barlas and the Inquisition squad, experiencing the shock of feeling like stray dogs after the sterile Ministry corridors they were accustomed to, followed the CORE team, wrapping their cloaks tightly around themselves. “Where are we going?” asked Okan, his teeth chattering from the cold. “We have no money. We have no potions. Sina can barely walk.” “Be quiet and walk, golden boy,” hissed Meltem, with that dangerous, feral glint in her eyes. “Right now we are descending into the underground, into that sewer the Ministry has ignored for years due to its arrogance.” Darius led them into the labyrinth-like streets of the Bodrum Industrial Estate. The smell of night-time auto repair shops with their shutters pulled down, scrap piles, and rusty iron surrounded them. Darius stopped in front of a dilapidated shop hanging a sign that read “Kardeşler Exhaust”, which looked completely abandoned from the outside. He touched the tip of his wand not to the padlock on the rusty shutter, but to the oil stain on the wall. “Aperio Umbra,” he whispered. The oil stain expanded within seconds, turning into a black, swirling vortex. Darius stepped into the darkness without hesitation. The others followed him. When they emerged from the vortex, a heavy smell of sulfur, dried poison ivy, and dragon’s blood was added to the smell of motor oil around them. This was the “Shadow Industry” magically hidden beneath the Industrial Estate. The heart of Bodrum’s black-market wizards, blood smugglers, and dark alchemists expelled from the Ministry. Under the dim, flickering yellow lights, strange organs floating in jars on rusty counters, weapons engraved with illegal runes, and cursed talismans were being sold. The crowd inside suddenly fell silent when they saw these eight soaking wet and blood-stained people. The underground world didn’t expect to see the Ministry’s most feared hunters—Darius and Barlas—at the same time, let alone in such a miserable state. Darius, ignoring the hostile stares around him, walked directly to the shop at the very end of the market, surrounded by thick iron bars. Behind the counter sat “The Locksmith”, whose half of his face had been melted by a fire spell and who wore a mechanical eye. The biggest weapon and information dealer on the black market. The Locksmith focused his mechanical eye, looked at the team, and grinned, revealing his rotten teeth. “Darius Widdershins and Barlas in the same frame. And both of you look like wet rats. I saw those green flames rising from the castle. The Ministry fell, didn’t it? Abu Nazir took the city.” “We didn’t come to talk, we came to shop, Locksmith,” said Darius, with that dead coldness in his voice. The Locksmith burst into laughter. “Shopping? With what money? The Ministry vaults are in Nazir’s hands now. The bounty placed on your heads in this market right now would buy my entire shop.” From the shadows behind the Locksmith emerged three heavily armed mercenary wizards, wands in hand. “You need to offer me a very good reason to make it out of here alive.” Barlas was about to lunge forward, wanting to use his old authority, but Darius stopped him with his hand. Darius, without giving any warning, struck his wand upon the counter like a lightning bolt. “Legilimens Maxima!” The magic was so violent that neither a shield nor a physical barrier could stop it. Darius’s mental battering ram plunged directly into the Locksmith’s mind. The black marketeer screamed in pain and was thrown backward, sparks shooting from his mechanical eye. The moment the three mercenary wizards behind him raised their wands, Kuzey lifted his massive ebony wand with one hand. Meltem had already aligned her knives to throw at the throat of one of the mercenaries. “Lower those wands,” growled Kuzey. “Or I’ll bring this place down on your heads.” Darius reached over the table, grabbed the writhing Locksmith by the collar, and pulled him close. “The shopping is over, Locksmith. We are extorting now. You will give my teams every piece of equipment, weapon, and supply they need.” The Locksmith nodded, trembling. “O... Okay! Take whatever you want! The shop is yours!” Darius threw the man roughly to the ground. Alaz had erased that old, sorrowful expression from his eyes, replacing it with the madness of a vengeful engineer. Efsun’s death had completely changed him. Alaz, without saying a word, dove into the illegal supplies in the back of the shop. He began filling bags with armor vests made of dragon scales, black-market rune stones, cursed silver knives, and explosive alchemy vials. Okan and Vera first looked with disgust at these dark magic tools an Auror should never touch, but Barlas silently ordered them to arm themselves as well with a nod of his head. While Vera took a dark agate necklace that strengthened the mind, Okan chose an illegal combat wand to go with his standard wand. Meltem, attaching devices capable of channeling poison to the tips of her knives, watched as Darius stood over the Locksmith, who was trying to get up from the floor. “Thanks for the weapons,” said Darius. “Now you will pay the real price. Information. Nazir is commanding a massive army from the castle. Where is his next target?” The Locksmith wiped his bleeding nose with his arm. In his eyes there was no longer mockery, but pure fear. He wasn’t just afraid of Darius, but also of what he knew. “That guy isn’t human,” whispered the Locksmith. “He’s sending whispers of the dead underground from the castle. All the bones beneath the city are being dragged toward him. The Seventh Port... To open it, ordinary mortal blood or a few skeletons won’t suffice. He needs a place where a massive historical massacre took place, a place where the earth still weeps blood.” Sina whispered from the corner, his eyes tightly shut. “Alexander the Great...” Barlas quickly turned his head to Sina. “What did you say?” Sina swallowed. “I’m catching the scent... The main wave Nazir is emitting from the castle. The place where thousands of soldiers, horses, and war elephants died. The bloodiest gate of Bodrum...” “The Myndos Gate,” Darius completed. The pieces were falling into place in his mind. The ancient gate where Alexander besieged Halicarnassus, where the bloodiest battles were fought. Thousands of souls still carrying the brutality of that war lay beneath the soil. The Locksmith took a shaky breath. “He’s massing the entire bone army there. Go, get yourselves killed, Widdershins. Only the dead pass through that gate.” Darius tucked his wand into his robes. He looked at his team. Alaz, with the explosive vials strapped to him and the new, modified combat shotgun (a killing machine synchronized with a wand) in his hands, had turned into a complete Frankenstein’s creator. Meltem, Kuzey, Lidya, Barlas, Okan, Vera, and Sina... All had donned their dark underground armors, stripped of their badges, transforming into pure executioners. “We are already dead, Locksmith,” said Darius as he exited the shop. “And tonight, at the Myndos Gate, we will show Nazir who the true king of the dead is.” 40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8dDgyQkFqZ
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