The offer was tempting in its way. A crime syndicate creeping into the folds of Tythas City’s reconstruction, embedding itself in the newly expanded trade routes and spaceport of New Tythas. Their proposal was simple: in exchange for Sunrider’s passive acceptance, they would keep the city clean—efficiently, ruthlessly. Jovian knew what that meant. People would disappear. Not just criminals, enemies, anyone who got in the way.
He sat at the edge of a transparent walkway in Ashla’s Tears Amphitheatre, the ocean shifting in the depths below him. The city had been built for survival, beauty, and progress, but beneath the shimmering lights of New Tythas, there was always darkness waiting to seep in. The Rift and the Abyssal Depths were already prime locations for smuggling and secret dealings. This syndicate was making the inevitable official.
Dale’s voice cut through the quiet. “We could take them out now. Call in favours. You know we have people.”
Jovian considered the weight of the decision. Dale was the blunt instrument in their circle, always ready to fight when words failed. Sitting beside him, Isla was more thoughtful, her gaze flicking between the shimmering amphitheatre and Jovian’s impassive expression.
“If we refuse,” Isla murmured, “we open the city to war. Blood in the streets, assassinations, chaos in the Rift. I don’t like the alternative, but turning them down outright means we need to be ready to fight for control.”
Jovian leaned back, exhaling. His mind flashed to the horrors they had survived together, the ghostly presence of the witch still lingering in his memory. He had learned that control was an illusion. Yet, in Tythas City, control meant survival. Letting the syndicate operate under their own rules was out of the question.
“We don’t fight them,” Jovian finally said, ignoring Dale’s sharp look. “Not yet.”
“You’re not making a deal with them,” Dale snapped. “Tell me you’re not seriously considering this.”
Jovian met his gaze. “Not in the way they want.”
Isla nodded slowly, realization dawning. “We play along. We set them up.”
The plan began to take shape in his mind. They would let the syndicate believe they had Sunrider’s cooperation, let them move their pieces into place, and grow comfortable in their supposed security. Then, when they least expected it, Jovian and his allies would dismantle them. Publicly. Loudly. He would let them implicate themselves, weave themselves too deep into Tythas City’s infrastructure, and then pull the rug out from under them.
“This has to be clean,” Isla said. “We can’t let them turn this back on us. No loose ends.”
Jovian nodded. “We make them overreach. Then we burn them.”
Dale exhaled, shaking his head. “It’s risky.”
“So is war,” Jovian replied. “And I’m not letting this city fall to them.”
The decision was made. They would betray the syndicate, turning their greed and ambition against them. It was a gamble, but one that had to be taken. Because if Tythas City was going to remain a jewel of Daleem, it needed to be protected—not by criminals, but by those willing to fight for it.
The next few weeks would be crucial. Jovian moved carefully, meeting with key officials, planting whispers of distrust. The syndicate’s operations in The Rift were noted, logged, and strategically leaked. A shipment of illicit weapons meant for the syndicate suddenly vanished and rerouted to Sunrider’s forces. Street informants murmured of betrayal within their ranks.
At night, Jovian walked the pathways of New Tythas, the glow of the Terraformer casting eerie shadows against the water. He could feel the tension shifting, the undercurrents of impending violence thick in the air. The syndicate was growing suspicious, their men doubling security. Dale had his hand on the pulse, watching their movements, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Then, the first killing happened. A high-ranking syndicate enforcer was found dead, his throat slit, body dumped near The Lily Pad transfer station. It wasn’t their doing, but the timing was perfect. The paranoia began to fester within the syndicate. They started turning on their own. Isla made sure that the whispers of disloyalty reached the right ears. The infighting escalated. By the time Jovian was ready to make his final move, the syndicate had already torn itself apart.
The night the trap was sprung, Jovian stood on the upper levels of New Tythas, watching as the city’s security forces—armed with the information he had fed them—stormed a syndicate stronghold in the Abyssal Depths. Explosions rocked the lower districts. Gunfire echoed through the tunnels. The syndicate leaders were dragged into the light, their crimes exposed before they could silence anyone else.
Jovian exhaled, watching the city below. The battle was won, but he knew there would always be another threat lurking beneath the waves. Still, for now, Tythas City remained theirs.