Page 36 of His Ruthless Match

Izo gestured toward the shadowy streets beyond. “The rebels are disregarding orders, rioting over the new regulations. They’re used to smuggling blood artifacts and alchemical contraband out of here without oversight. The Shadow’s new requirement for documentation is not exactly sitting well with them.”

“Shocking. Who are the key players?”

He shook his head. “That’s the problem. They’ve rallied around a faceless leader. No one knows who it is.”

“And what exactly are you doing about it, aside from standing around looking useless?”

Izo’s jaw tightened, but he kept his composure. “I’m trying to maintain order, but without my powers…” He gestured to the dark mark around his neck. “I can only do so much.”

“Convenient excuse. How’s the Ashen Faction holding up without you?”

Izo bristled. “It’s running like a well-oiled machine. The magistrate oversees commerce, and I handle the less savory tasks. It works because we know our roles. The Crimson Dominion, however, is a different beast. The dark alchemy trade complicates everything.”

“Let me guess,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “The magistrate’s involved but keeping their hands clean?”

Izo nodded grimly. “Exactly. If the people knew the magistrate was profiting from the dark alchemy trade, their credibility would crumble. Politics.”

I scoffed. “Politics, my ass. They’re just another gang with better PR.”

“You’re not wrong. But it’s a delicate balance. If their hand in this gets exposed, it could destabilize the entire region.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Think they’re behind the uprisings?”

“They’re usually involved in everything, one way or another.”

Typical. I ran a hand through my hair in frustration. “Fine. Lead me to the troublemakers.”

Izo smirked faintly. “Eager, aren’t we?”

“Not eager. Efficient. Let’s get this over with.”

Izo led the way. The man—if he could still be called that—had an uncanny ability to act like everything was under control, even when it clearly wasn’t. His voice cut through the oppressive quiet of the streets.

“See that pile of rubble?” Izo gestured toward what had once been a grand, fortified building. Now, it was a leveled wreck of broken stone and charred metal. “That was the main documentation office for the blood artifact trade. The rebels hit it with a cursed blood bomb. No survivors.”

I scanned the ruins, noting the dark stains marring the ground. The coppery scent of blood lingered, even after the Dominion’s infamous red mist had thinned.

“You didn’t think to mention it in advance?” I said.

Izo glanced back at me, his dark eyes gleaming with irritation. “You didn’t ask.”

Asshole.

We continued deeper into the Dominion. The air grew thicker with the acrid stench of burning substances—failed experiments, cursed concoctions, and who the fuck knew what else. The alchemical market on the edge of the Dominion sprawled before us, a labyrinth of shadowed alleyways and precariously stacked stalls. The flickering wards above shimmered with unstable energy, casting eerie patterns on the jagged stone walls.

The place was alive with tension. Traders shouted over each other, hawking everything from powdered phoenix feathers to illicit blood alchemy tools. Sigils etched into the ground pulsed faintly, their energy thrumming beneath my boots. Loyalists conducted business with sharp eyes darting around, while rebels loitered on the fringes, like they were waiting for a storm cloud to break.

And then it did.

A scuffle broke out near the edge of the market. The crack of glass hitting stone echoed through the air like a gunshot. The explosion that followed sent a blast of unnatural heat toward us. A blood bomb. Traders screamed as the blast incinerated part of the market. Cursed flames licked across the stalls and spread.

“Fucking hell,” I muttered. The rebels were tearing this place apart.

Izo pulled a blade from his coat. Its edges glinted with enchantments. “Looks like the party’s starting early. You gonna sit there gawking, or are you jumping in?”

Instead of replying, I shifted. My body stretched and contorted, bones snapping and realigning until my sleek, deadly cougar form emerged, golden eyes scanning the chaos.

Izo would hold his own. My focus was on the rebels. The smell of cursed blood thickened as I weaved through the panicked crowd, my powerful limbs propelling me toward the epicenter of the chaos.