Chapter 19: Bales

The country of Sinephil, situated in the Southern Pacific Ocean, roughly the size of India, is encircled by towering mountains on all sides, forming a natural barrier of rocks against the ocean.

Standing tall on the country is Bales City, the largest thriving metropolis in the country second only to the capital.

By day, it is a city of wealth and ambition. Towering skyscrapers lined the skyline, home to major corporations and financial institutions.

The central business district buzzed with executives, investors, and entrepreneurs chasing fortunes.

Luxury malls, high-end restaurants, and sprawling commercial hubs painted the city as a place of endless opportunity.

But when night fell, Bales transformed.

The neon lights flickered on, bathing the streets in electric colors. The city never truly slept as casinos roared with life, clubs pulsed with music, and backroom deals were made in dimly lit lounges.

Beneath the surface of wealth and progress, a different kind of power ruled.

A balance existed in Bales. The elite families controlled the boardrooms, politics, and legitimate wealth, while the syndicates ran the underworld, dealing in vice, blood, and secrets.

It was an unspoken agreement that as long as one side didn’t disrupt the other, the city would continue to thrive.

But the balance was starting to break as Bales wasn’t just divided by roads and districts, it was carved up by power.

In the Northwest, the Strata Syndicate reigned. They controlled mostly casinos, bars, underground fight rings, and money laundering networks.

Their grip extended into high-end establishments and back-alley dealings, making them a dominant force in the underworld.

Their leader, Vincent Alaric, the Specter, ruled with intelligence and ruthlessness, ensuring Strata’s iron grip remained unchallenged.

In the Southeast, the Vesper Syndicate held control. Masters of assassinations, information brokering, and the black market, they thrived in secrecy. Their reach extended into auctions, illegal trade, and a web of intelligence few could rival.

While Strata focused on wealth and control, Vesper dealt in whispers and shadows.

Between them, squeezed in the south and southwest, lay the Mad Hounds. The third-largest group and unlike the structured syndicates, they thrived on chaos, dealing in drugs, prostitution, theft, and street-level crime.

Though seen as reckless, they had numbers, and with recent movements, they were growing bolder.

Smaller gangs littered the outskirts, each fighting for scraps, but none came close to the power of the three.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Yet, while the underworld carved its own empire, true dominance lay elsewhere.

The Northern and Eastern districts were ruled by the four powerful families, Venderra, Webbing, Denario, and Mittal. Their wealth was built on corporate power, politics, and inherited money.

They didn’t need brute force; influence and connections kept them untouchable.

And at the heart of the city, the Central Business District stood as neutral ground. The tallest skyscrapers, corporate headquarters, and government offices resided there. It was where deals were made, both legal and illegal.

Here, the rich and the powerful whether businessmen, politicians, or crime lords walked the same streets.

For years, the balance remained intact. But now, with the Mad Hounds stirring trouble and unseen forces moving in the shadows, Bales City was on the verge of something dangerous.

…..

Outskirts of Bales City.

Near the Municipality of Sorelle.

The sound of gravel crunching under rubber broke the quiet as Vincent’s black sedan rolled to a stop by the edge of the road. The forest before them stretched wide, thick with shadows and fog.

In the distance, the silhouette of a large, isolated manor loomed just beyond the tree line. There were no lights, no movements can be seen, but everyone who pass by here knew someone was watching.

Nova leaned forward slightly in his seat, peering through the windshield. “This is it?” he muttered. “Creepy forest, abandoned province road, big-ass house with a guy who hasn’t shown his face in months. Very horror movie of him.”

Vincent didn’t respond right away. His eyes were fixed on the manor, brows faintly furrowed. His fingers tapped twice on the wheel.

“Ronan Raines,” he said flatly. “Vice leader of the Mad Hounds. Hiding like a rat in a coffin too big for him. This is your location… are you sure?”

“Hey! Of course, I’m sure.” Nova said, brows furrowed... then added under his breath, “…maybe.”

He sat back in his seat, glanced at Vincent. “So, what now? Just the two of us here, parked outside a creepy mansion like we’re in some low-budget thriller.”

Vincent finally looked at him.

“We’re not going alone,” he said. “This operation is sanctioned by the higher ranks of Strata. I called in the elites.”

“Elites? We have elites?” Nova blinked, his smirk widening with amusement. “What are they, some kind of super soldiers or something?”

Vincent turned back toward the manor. His expression stayed firm. “Yes, but only a few. They don’t operate with the usual crews. Not many know about them. Only those who need to.”

Nova raised an eyebrow. “And I’ve never seen them because…”

“You weren’t ready.”

Silence.

Nova’s smirk faded slightly. “And now I am?”

“Yes, it’s time to tell you some truths.” Vincent nodded slowly, eyes steady on the road. “And I know you’ve been hiding something.”

The air in the car shifted subtly, but real. Like the hush before a storm.

Nova’s face remained composed, but his mind spiraled. “Wha… what do you mean?” he said, voice calm, carefully measured. “I’m not hiding anything.”

Vincent turned his head fully now, locking eyes with him. “Don’t lie to me. I’ve felt it, especially these past few days. Something changed. Was it after that night?”

Nova had braced himself for an accusation, maybe even anger for not telling his uncle the truth about what really happened the night of the attack. About dying. About his strange new ability. He’d chosen to carry that secret alone.

But when he looked into Vincent’s eyes, there was no hostility. Just seriousness and concern. It was very subtle and quiet, but unmistakably there.

Nova exhaled, lowering his head, hiding the swirl of thoughts in his mind. His chest was tight.

Could he really tell him everything?

Should he?

He stayed silent for a moment longer, weighing everything. Then slowly, he sat up straighter, meeting his uncle’s gaze again.

Vincent had always been there. More than a mentor. More than a boss. He was family, the one who had raised him when no one else did.

If anyone deserved the truth, it was him.

Nova drew a breath. His voice was low but steady.

“What really happened is that… I died.”