Taking Over The Criminal UnderWorld As A 21st Century Magus!

The cold wind whipped through the alleys of Ironhold, carrying with it the stench of smoke and decay. The city was restless tonight, its shadows heavy with tension. Elian and Lena stood before the looming structure of the Red Vultures' base—a dilapidated factory on the edge of the industrial district. Its smokestacks reached into the cloudy sky like skeletal fingers, and the faint hum of generators droned from within.

"This is it," Lena whispered. Her voice carried a rare edge of doubt.

Elian adjusted the frayed scarf around his neck. "If they say no—"

"They won't," Lena cut him off. Her eyes flicked toward the armed guards stationed outside. "We won't let them."

The hours before arriving here were marked by chaos and grief. Just days before, their group had been shattered. The Iron Guard, infamous for their ruthlessness, had descended upon their hideout. Jace had been caught trying to steal medicine for Tobin. The sound of rifle fire had echoed through the slums, and by the time Elian and the others arrived, it was too late. Jace lay motionless in the dirt, blood pooling beneath him.

Tobin's muffled sobs had broken through the shock. Marla, ever the optimist, had tried to console him, but her own tears betrayed her despair. Elian felt an unfamiliar mix of rage and helplessness, while Lena had stood silently, her fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white. She hadn't said a word until they were alone later that night.

"We can't keep running like this," she'd said, her voice cold. "The Iron Guard doesn't care about us. We'll all end up like Jace if we don't find something… someone… to fight back with."

Elian had nodded, the image of Jace's lifeless body etched into his mind. That was when Lena suggested the Red Vultures. It wasn't safety she sought—it was vengeance.

Inside, the air was suffocating, thick with the acrid scent of oil and damp metal. The guards led them through dimly lit hallways lined with rusting machinery. Every creak of the floorboards beneath their boots felt like a judgment.

They were escorted to the heart of the compound, where Halda, the leader of the Red Vultures, awaited. Her office was a haphazard mix of order and chaos—maps and ledgers neatly arranged on one side, while weapons and bottles cluttered the other. She studied them with a raised brow, her steely eyes betraying no warmth.

"Kids," Halda said, leaning back in her chair. "We don't take kids."

"We're not just kids," Lena shot back, her voice firm. "We're survivors. Fighters."

Halda smirked, looking them over. "And what do you think you can offer me that I don't already have?"

Elian stepped forward. "We're resourceful. We know the streets, the people. And I…" He hesitated but then extended his hand.

From the cracks in the concrete floor, thick vines erupted, twisting upward and forming an intricate web before retreating into nothingness. Gasps echoed from the surrounding guards, their grips tightening on their weapons.

Halda's expression shifted slightly, her eyes narrowing. "Magic. In Ironhold. Thought that was just a fairy tale."

"It's not magic," Elian said, his voice steady. "It's just…me."

"You're an anomaly," Halda said, leaning forward. "And anomalies are dangerous. What makes you think I won't kill you right here and now?"

"Because you're smarter than that," Lena interjected. "You know what he can do could be an asset to you. And I can fight."

Halda's lips curled into a thin smile. "Brave words, girl. But bravery only gets you so far." She snapped her fingers, and two guards stepped forward, rifles aimed. "Let's see how far you're willing to go."

The guards advanced, but Lena moved like a striking snake. In an instant, she disarmed the first guard with a well-placed kick to his wrist, sending his rifle skittering across the floor. Her movements were precise, almost practiced, as she dodged the second guard's attack and swept his legs out from under him.

Elian watched, stunned. He'd known Lena was tough, but this was something else entirely. The guards scrambled to their feet, but before they could act again, he raised his hand. Vines shot out from the floor, wrapping around their legs and yanking them off balance.

Halda's laughter cut through the chaos. "Well, I'll be damned. You've got some fire in you, girl. And you—" she pointed at Elian, "you're full of surprises."

The guards groaned as they tried to free themselves, but Halda waved them off. "That's enough. Stand down." She turned her sharp gaze back to the pair. "Alright, you've got my attention. But if you want a place here, you'll have to earn it."

Elian stepped forward, his voice firm. "I'm not here to play games. I need answers. My parents were killed, and I need to know who did it."

Halda studied him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Maybe I can help. But first, you'll do something for me. Consider it a test of loyalty."

Later, as they were led to a makeshift barracks, Elian turned to Lena. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"

She hesitated, her expression darkening. "My parents," she said finally. "My father used to be in the militia. He taught me everything he knew."

Elian noticed the shift in her tone. "What happened to them?"

Lena's jaw tightened. "They died. Same as yours. The Iron Guard came to our village, said we were harboring rebels. My parents tried to fight back. They didn't stand a chance."

Elian's chest tightened. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Lena said, her voice firm. "It's why I fight. Why I won't stop. If joining the Vultures is what it takes to make things right, then so be it."

Elian nodded, a newfound respect for her swelling in his chest. Together, they had already faced so much. And now, with the Red Vultures, they were stepping into an even darker world.

But no matter the cost, Elian knew he couldn't stop. Not until he had answers—and justice.