Rule 7 : Rage

CHAPTER 24: The Butcher's Legacy.

"Lords, what are your thoughts on this, DNA?" Lord Russo's call punctuated the air, accompanied by wisps of swirling smoke from his nostrils.

DNA smiled and poured rum into his goblet, his fingers brushing against the smooth, aged glass, the liquid swishing softly as it settled.

"The Shaque holds the potential for anything," he mused calmly, "We've experienced a considerable decline in profits since her departure. Her title may have seemed insignificant, but her role was absolutely vital within the Shaque."

He raised the glass to his lips, the golden liquid disappearing within a single, smooth swallow, vanishing into the depths of his mysterious persona.

Lord Dusk, with a smooth flick of his wrist, lit up a stick, the tip glowing like a menacing eye in the dimly lit chamber. He drew a deep inhalation, the smoke curling upward like ethereal tendrils.

"What made you choose him?" His voice resonated, carrying a hint of intrigue and skepticism. "What's so special?"

Lord Draven's voice cut through the smoke-filled air, sharp and resolute. "The Butcher's Worm is dead. How can a mere weakling replace her?" His words carried an ominous weight, the atmosphere growing heavier with the gravity of his doubt and disbelief.

"Cease this banter as if you were divine beings before setting foot in the Shaque. Remember, I'm the one who shaped every soul seated here, did I not? None of you brought your own power into these territories. I am the sole judge here. Any more inquiries?" Lord Maximus stated firmly, accentuating his words with exhales of smoke that lingered in the tense air.

They shook their heads in silence, signifying their lack of questions, intimidated by Lord Maximus's demeanor.

Lord Maximus's menacing expression twisted into a snarl. "No inquiries? Very well, I have something to show you," he announced, pulling out a drop screen that unveiled an image of Zayn.

A sense of foreboding hung heavy in the atmosphere, each breath laden with anticipation and wonder as Zayn's image appeared on the screen, a chilling hush enveloping the room.

"What an exquisite find! How did you manage to recruit him, my Lord?" inquired Lord Khaliq, his brow furrowing with curiosity.

"Allow me to elaborate," he began. "He's twenty-six, towering at six feet nine, an affinity for pets, and proficient in multiple languages - English, Spanish, and French. His upbringing was within the confines of an orphanage, hailing from Huesa, Spain. Furthermore, he carries the scars of a broken past, much akin to the former Butcher's Worm." He chuckled darkly.

"Then what's so mysterious about him?" pressed Lord Dusk, undeterred.

"I haven't revealed everything." Lord Maximus met their gaze, a flicker of intensity in his eyes.

"On the day we erased the Butcher's Worm, he was found with the baby in his arms, both on the verge of death. We brought him in for interrogation, but he lapsed into a year-long coma. When he finally awoke, he had lost fragments of his memory."

The Bar Lords sat in a heavy silence, their expressions a blend of disbelief and intrigue, hanging on Lord Maximus's every word, yearning for more details.

"Why wasn't he killed right away?" DNA's hands locked together in a gesture of inquiry.

"Spilling the outcast's blood doesn't grant us leave to end his life," Lord Maximus retorted, his voice carrying a steely resolve.

"Remember, the outcast traverses the fiery depths of the Inferno circle, still under our domain," Lord Khaliq chimed in, emphasizing their ownership.

DNA, perplexed, interjected, "It's beginning to make sense, but this is all happening so abruptly. There's something more at play here."

"I conducted thorough investigations and interrogations, including the outcast," Lord Maximus began, his tone measured. "I probed him about the incident, but he persisted in denying any involvement."

DNA smirked and took a thoughtful puff. "So, you spared him despite the lies?"

"Indeed," Lord Maximus confirmed. "He was insistent on returning home, maintaining a facade of innocence that screamed deceit. Yet, when he regained shreds of his memory, I glimpsed a different potential in him—a cunningness I couldn't ignore," he declared, his gaze fixed on the drop screen in front of them.

"Despite his tenacity in denying any connection, he retained memories about the incident," DNA observed, his eyes narrowing in contemplation.

"Yes, he grappled with splintered memory. But he carried guilt for his deceit, and I took advantage of that," Lord Maximus explained.

"He had no alternative, unwilling to face his own demise. For a year, while in a coma, he relied on the resources provided by the Shaque, funded by my investment. In the Shaque, nothing is granted without a cost," he concluded, his words resonating with a chilling certainty in the hushed chamber.