CHAPTER 72: The Grand Party-1

CHAPTER 72: The Grand Party-1

Music reverberated through the main hall of Vladslavia. Crystal chandeliers illuminated the room, casting golden reflections on wine glasses, impeccable suits, and the faces of the gathered elite. Nobles, investors, corporate leaders, and underworld figures shared the same space, wrapped in an atmosphere oscillating between ostentation and intrigue.

On the terrace, away from the bustle, Phoenix gazed at the full moon dominating the night sky. The silvery glow reflected in his eyes, projecting a disturbing contrast with the darkness of his thoughts. He could hear the murmur of the party behind him, but his mind was elsewhere, trapped in memories that still burned like embers.

The terrace door opened softly. Marcus appeared, with his serious bearing and his gaze fixed on his companion. He walked over to stand beside him, both silent, observing the moon as if it were a silent witness to all they had been through.

"You're not really here, are you?" said Marcus, his voice low.
"I'm trying... but sometimes I feel like I'm still trapped in that day." Phoenix took a deep breath, crossing his arms. "The moon won't let me forget it."
"The moon never forgets," replied Marcus, leaning on the railing. "But what matters is what we do under it, not what it reminds us of."

Phoenix let out a short, bitter laugh and then nodded. After that shared moment, they both returned inside. The heat, noise, and luxury immediately enveloped them. They moved through the crowd until they reached their assigned table. There, Lucian, Vanessa, and Enid were waiting, impeccably dressed, radiating the aura of a team that, even among such elite company, did not go unnoticed.

Soon, a man whose presence cut through the air approached. Viktor, director of Antigen, appeared with his usual air of superiority, accompanied by the imposing figure of Darem, his lethal shadow.

"My, my... Enid Sinclair." Viktor's voice was a blade of steel wrapped in velvet. "What a surprise to find you at an event of this magnitude. Although, of course... your name opens doors anywhere in the world."

Enid rose slightly, with an elegant smile that hid the tension in her eyes.
"Viktor. It's no surprise to see you here. Vladslavia has always been fertile ground for scavengers."

A dry laugh escaped Viktor's lips.
"You're still as sharp as ever. Though I'll tell you something... not everyone has the talent to turn ruins into empires. That's a skill few of us share."

"Empires..." Enid replied, her voice soft but firm. "Yours always smell of ashes and blood. Mine, at least, still inspires confidence."

The table tensed with that exchange, a high-class verbal duel that made it clear both were playing in the same league.

It was then that Darem stepped forward, with the shadow of a twisted smile.
"Enough with the pleasantries." His gaze fixed directly on Phoenix. "I can't help it... I see you and feel an impulse in my blood. As if my body is forcing me to kill you right here."

Phoenix, who had remained silent, slowly looked up. His expression was hard, and a dangerous spark shone in his eyes.
"That impulse is mutual. You think death separates us, but all it does is chain us together. Every time I breathe, I know it's you I must take the life from."

The atmosphere shattered like glass under pressure. Lucian and Marcus tensed, ready to intervene, while Vanessa kept her gaze fixed, almost expectant.

Darem tilted his head, enjoying the moment.
"I've waited too long for this. I imagine your neck in my hands... I imagine your blood on my bayonet."

Phoenix smiled, though it was a dark, broken smile. His hand slowly descended towards his jacket, brushing the grip of his hidden weapon.
"Do it. Give me one reason and I swear I won't even leave your bones to bury."

Simultaneously, Darem slipped his hand inside his coat, his fingers brushing the hilt of his bayonet.

Look at him. Even broken, he still has that look. That damn look that won't go out. Why can't I kill him right now? What's holding me back? Darem thought, savoring every second of tension.

I want him dead. Here, now. I don't care about the place, or the people watching. I just want to hear the sound of his last breath. Damned bastard... Phoenix roared in his mind, restraining the impulse to draw his weapon.

The tension became unbearable. It was Enid who broke the edge of the moment, placing a firm hand on Phoenix's arm.
"No," she whispered, her voice low but relentless. "This is not the time."

The party atmosphere continued to vibrate with the echoes of that fierce encounter. The silence that had been born around the table still weighed heavily; the murmurs of nearby people barely dared to resurface. Phoenix kept his hand still near his jacket, as if the weapon inside was still burning, demanding to be drawn. His eyes, fixed on Darem, were contained fire, and in his mind, the idea of confrontation still burned like a red-hot iron.

Phoenix exhaled harshly and, without looking away, growled:
"It's not the time, Darem... but believe me... it will come."

The twisted smile on the bayonet-man's face widened, as if he found that declaration delicious. In a hoarse, almost amused voice, he replied:
"That's what I'm waiting for, Phoenix. Sooner or later, one of us will stop breathing. And when that moment comes, there will be no witnesses, no masks, just blood."

There was a strange glint in his eyes, a spark of respect. A dark reverence between predators. As if they mutually recognized that there was no one else in the world who could test them in that way.

Darem took a step back, but not before leaving his poisoned farewell:
"Don't take too long... I don't like to wait."

And he turned calmly, as if he hadn't left a storm in his wake.