The city of Vaelmont shimmered under golden light, the kind of place that tried very hard to look noble while hiding just how many knives were being traded in the alleys. Zane walked through its polished streets with his hood low and sarcasm high.
"Remind me again why we're here?" Nyx's smoky voice drifted beside him, visible only to his eyes.
"An artifact," Zane muttered. "Ring. Can copy spells. Some noble idiot is using it like a party trick-slash-execution device."
Link popped into view as a flickering orb, floating by Zane's shoulder. "He roasted a guy for looking at his horse the wrong way. Classy."
"Very classy," Zane muttered. "I want the ring."
They approached a tall estate surrounded by enchanted crystal barriers. The gates opened for no one... unless you were invisible, and Zane's Phantom Chain was very good at making shadows lie.
Inside the ballroom, chandeliers glittered above a crowd of nobles pretending to like each other. And at the center, lounging like a smug cat on a velvet throne, sat Lord Fenric Vael — young, silver-tongued, and every bit as punchable as Link had described.
He raised a wine glass and flicked his fingers. A servant's cup exploded in their hands.
"Oops," Fenric chuckled, showing off the obsidian ring on his finger. "That's what happens when you serve me lukewarm grape juice."
Zane appeared behind him a second later, whispering, "Then you're going to love what I'm serving."
Fenric turned, startled—only to freeze as a phantom copy of Zane phased out of the shadows behind him and pressed a blade to his neck.
"Oh, lovely," Fenric said, smiling nervously. "Assassins with flair."
"I'm not here to kill you," Zane said, his voice low. "Just here for the ring. You're using it wrong. Morally and fashionably."
Fenric blinked. "You want this? Sorry, but I need it. It whispers juicy things to me."
"It whispers everyone's spells, not secrets. You're probably just insecure," Link piped up from Zane's shoulder.
Fenric snapped. A glowing glyph shot toward Zane — only to be copied in an instant. Zane's own hand traced the air mid-cast and fired the same spell back, only twice as fast.
The chandelier crashed behind Fenric. Screams echoed. Chaos began.
Zane grabbed the noble by his collar as guards rushed in. "Hand over the ring or I start whispering your spells to your enemies."
"You don't scare me."
Zane leaned in. "Nyx, how long would it take to possess this guy's shoes?"
"I dunno, maybe five seconds per boot," she replied casually.
Two minutes later, Zane walked out of the estate with the ring on his finger, whistling a tune as Fenric sat tied to a chair covered in shadow ropes.
"I'm gonna miss him," Link said. "He was the perfect mix of slimy and stupid."
"Shame. He had great hair," Nyx added.
Zane examined the ring as it pulsed gently. "Another piece down. How many left?"
The system pinged silently in his mind, but he ignored it. No one else needed to know yet.
He grinned. "Let's find the next one. Preferably without the nobles."