Strongest Among the Heavens-Chapter 540: The Growing Shadow

The courier’s knees buckled as he was mentally dragged into the golden office. The great chamber was lit by braziers of blue fire reflecting across the polished bronze panels that passed for walls. He was trembling, his lips pressed tight as though by force, eyes darting in frantic, terrified glances. A street rat dragged too far from its burrow.

At the desk sat Alþjófr, the dwarf who had founded and ruled the Auctioneers. His white-gold beard draped down his chest like a waterfall of coins, rings clinking on his stubby fingers as he tapped the polished desk. Behind him in front of him were the Golden Automata: his prized golems, statues of block-shaped perfection.

"You are a Courier," Alþjófr rumbled. "What is your name?"

"It...it doesn’t matter," he said.

"Excellent reply." Middle of the ladder. Mediocre, not yet a Master. "This is how you’ve survived, by keeping your lips tight. You’re competent enough. Tell me—" His eyes sharpened like chisels striking stone. "—do you know of the masked man who has been whispering through our halls?"

The courier’s head jerked up. For the briefest moment, there was hope in his wide eyes, a chance to prove himself useful, to speak and be rewarded. His lips parted—

"Hngggh!"

—but he gagged, a strangled gasp as fire seared his throat. He clawed at his neck with both hands, skin turning red, veins bulging.

Alþjófr leaned back, stroking his beard. "Ah. So that’s the case. Not quite a Contract of Obedience... no, this is far weaker. Some kind of enslavement seal. Every word against its master burns you alive."

The courier nodded desperately, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. He wanted to scream, to beg, to say something—anything—but the seal strangled all disobedience before it could form. His silence was a prison, and the key rested with a master he could not name.

"Pitiful," Alþjófr muttered. "Still... useful information in itself. Whoever did this must be—"

The dwarf stopped mid-sentence. His eyes flicked to the shadowed corner of the chamber. His lips curled in something between a sneer and a grimace.

The courier followed his gaze.

And then he saw him.

A tall figure stepping from the dark as if the shadows themselves bowed to him. A white Venetian mask gleamed within the shadows, his presence heavier than the entire room. His gaze pressed down on him like an executioner’s axe.

The courier froze. All he could think was, ’It’s him.’

The masked man. The master who had bound his throat. The one who moved unseen, who bent the dwarf king of thieves into obedience.

It was impossible. It should have been impossible. The golden golems should have protected their leader! The golden golems should have killed anyone and anything! And yet—

The courier knew. It was over.

Alþjófr did not look at Dasha with fear. No, his eyes held bitterness, resignation, hatred, and yet obedience carved into every line of his ancient face. The dwarf did not rise from his seat. He did not challenge. He only grunted, as though enduring a humiliation he could never speak aloud.

The courier began to shake uncontrollably. He had thought, perhaps, he might appeal to Alþjófr, tell him something, anything, that would unravel this secret. But now? He was trapped between two masters, and one had already fallen.

"Tell me," Alþjófr said coldly, addressing the courier one last time, "did you tell anyone? Did you speak a word of what happened that day? About him?"

The courier shook his head violently, lips trembling, the seal scorching his throat even at the thought of betrayal. "N-no!" His voice cracked, strangled, but the meaning was clear. "No! I didn’t—I swear—I was too afraid—"

Alþjófr’s eyes narrowed, searching for lies. He found none. He exhaled through his nose like a blacksmith venting steam.

Dasha’s voice cut through the chamber. "Good." 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

The courier flinched as those words wrapped around him like chains. He wanted to beg for mercy, to explain he had done nothing wrong, that his silence had been loyalty in its own way. But he could not. He knew mercy did not exist here.

Dasha turned his head slightly, his mask gleaming. "Alþjófr."

The dwarf stiffened. "Yes... Professor."

"Kill him."

The courier’s eyes went wide. "W-wait—please—I didn’t—"

His words dissolved into a final shriek as the golden golems stirred. The chamber trembled under the thunder of their synchronized steps. Twelve feet tall, they moved as one.

One raised its hand. Golden light poured into its palm and condensed into a radiant spear.

"NO—!" the courier screamed, scrambling backward, his fingers clawing at the marble floor, leaving streaks of blood. "I kept the secret! I DIDN’T TELL ANYONE! PLEASE!"

The spear of light pierced through his chest. His body spasmed, smoke rising from the blackened hole where his heart had been. His scream died in his throat, choked off into silence. Another golem stepped forward and a two-handed hammer fist crushed the rest of him. The corpse was splintered and erased into a pulp against the polished floor. Not even bones remained. Only a black scorch mark where the man had knelt.

The chamber fell quiet, the blue braziers flickering faintly.

Alþjófr clenched his fists under the desk. Dasha had done it, he had forced a Contract of Obedience on him. He had executed one of his own, not by his will, but by another’s. Even as the master of thieves, even as the guild’s heart, he had been reduced to nothing more than a hand obeying its brain.

"Now," he said into the silence, "there is no one left who might speak of me. No one outside this room knows of my hand in your guild. From this day, the Auctioneers move not for Alþjófr, but for me."

The dwarf ground his teeth but bowed his head, voice tight. "...As you command, Professor."

Dasha looked down at the black scorch mark, then back at the golden golems. Greater strength meant nothing. What they did to the courier, they could do to him if given the opportunity. It was his intelligence and his wits that put him one step forward. Everything was a tool. A pawn. Just like the courier. Just like Alþjófr. Just like everyone else would become.

The courier was gone. The secret was sealed.

The Professor’s shadow only grew darker.