The First Sparks of War — Lanke at Dusk-5

1–5.Black Market Undercurrents: Deadly Intelligence Trade of the Phonemorphs

If the surface of Lanco Star was ruled by the Holylight Clan, and the underground world controlled by the Alchemist Clan, then the shadowy crevice between them — the vast labyrinthine caverns known as the Thousand Grotto Maze — belonged entirely to the Phantasmal Clan.

Here, there were no nations, no faiths, only trade.

And the most valuable currency was neither gold nor core crystals, but secrets.

Ire shook the rainwater from his cloak and moved with practiced familiarity through several hidden sonic-pattern lock gates before entering the underground black market known as Echo. It was a grotesquely sprawling subterranean city where countless suspension bridges and cliffside walkways intertwined like a tangled web. The air was thick with the scent of glowing fungi and the endless murmur of voices speaking in dozens of languages.

The Phantasmal Clan possessed neither powerful physiques nor world-shattering magic. But they were born with sharply pointed ears capable of detecting both ultra-low and ultra-high frequency sound waves, along with vocal cords able to perfectly mimic any sound they heard.

That made them the finest spies and intelligence brokers on all of Lanco Star.

Ire did not linger in the noisy outer market. Instead, he headed straight toward an inverted stalactite tower deep within the black market. It was the residence of Mara the Blind-Eared — the elder of the Phantasmal Clan and the true ruler of this underground empire.

As he pushed open the heavy soundproof door, the absolute silence inside caused a brief ringing in his ears.

Mara was a hunched old woman with a black silk ribbon covering her eyes. She sat before a massive instrument assembled from countless tuning forks and resonance crystals. It was the sacred artifact of the Phantasmal Clan — the Soundstealer — capable of capturing faint vibrations transmitted through air, water, and stone across the entire continent of Lanco Star.

“You’ve returned, Ire. Your heartbeat is twelve beats faster than usual, and your left footfall is heavier by half a measure. You are afraid.”

Mara did not turn around. Her withered fingers continued plucking softly among the tuning forks.

“Elder, something terrible has happened.”

Ire dropped to one knee and pulled an item from his coat — the thing he had picked up in the tavern at Ashdust Town. Though the berserker youth had taken the crystal, during the chaos Ire had skillfully stolen a torn fragment of the strange leather pouch that once carried it.

“A high-purity core crystal has appeared among the Berserker Clan. And both the Holylight and Alchemist Clans have already set their sights on them.”

Mara accepted the leather fragment and gently rubbed it between her fingers. Suddenly, a bitter smile crept onto her shriveled lips.

“Ire, the intelligence you brought back is valuable. But compared to what the Soundstealer has captured over the last twenty-four hours, it is nothing more than a single raindrop before the storm.”

She turned and lightly tapped the instrument’s central crystal.

In an instant, glowing soundwave patterns filled the air throughout the room.

Then several forcibly reconstructed fragments of sound abruptly echoed through the silence.

The first was a heavy tolling bell, followed by the feverish voice of a man — Cardinal Valerius:

“The death of the High Priest is a revelation from the gods! It tells us the time has come to cleanse this world… The Golden Crusaders are to enter maximum combat readiness immediately. Target — the Shadow Borderlands.”

The second came amid the howling of snowstorms: a cold female voice — Commander Selena of the Shadow Clan:

“We did not kill the High Priest! The black feather left at the scene was deliberate framing… All forces are to enter maximum alert.”

The third was a sequence of icy synthesized mechanical tones — the voice of Grand Alchemist Mobius:

“I personally ordered the Ghost Mechs to place that gear… Activate Heavy Military Production Lines One through Four… Let those on the surface bleed.”

By the time the recordings ended, Ire’s face had gone deathly pale.

What horrified him was not merely the High Priest’s assassination, but the vast conspiracy hidden behind it. This was a perfect death trap orchestrated by the Alchemist Clan, deliberately exploited by the Holylight Clan, while the Shadow Clan had been forced into war.

“Elder… this is…”

“The truth,” Mara said calmly. “The truth capable of overturning all of Lanco Star.”

“These three recordings came respectively from the southern domes, the northern ice plains, and the abyss beneath the earth. We of the Phantasmal Clan have become the only people in the world who know the real cause of this war.”

“We have to make it public!” Ire shot to his feet. “If we hand these recordings to the moderates within the Holylight Clan — or the elders of the Berserker tribes — this war can still be stopped!”

“Fool!”

Mara’s voice cracked through the room like a whip. Though blindfolded, her hollow eyes seemed to stare directly at him.

“You think those rulers care about the truth? Holylight needs war to redirect its internal conflicts. The Alchemists need war to stimulate their economy. The Berserkers need war to seize resources. To them, truth is merely an obstacle!”

“Then what do we do?”

“Sell it.”

Her tone reverted instantly to that of a ruthless merchant.

“Break the truth into fragments and sell them at exorbitant prices to those who need them most. The Shadow Clan would trade entire mines for proof that the Alchemists framed them. The political enemies within Holylight would pay half a city’s wealth for recordings proving Valerius concealed the truth. This will become the most profitable intelligence transaction in the history of the Phantasmal Clan.”

This was the black market undercurrent: the Phantasmal Clan’s deadly intelligence trade.

Before profit, even a world-destroying war was merely merchandise waiting to be auctioned.

Late that same night, inside Echo Market’s most secretive high-level auction chamber —

Mara sat behind a curtain while Ire stood at her side as assistant.

Across from them sat three mysterious buyers cloaked in robes that blocked magical detection. Judging from the faint auras they emitted, one represented the Holylight opposition faction, another a radical Berserker warlord, and the last an emissary from the Shadow Clan seeking the truth.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mara announced hoarsely through an amplification array, “tonight’s item is known as the Twilight Key.”

“It contains the complete truth behind the High Priest’s death, along with the latest military mobilization data from the northern Alchemist factories.”

“Starting price: one million purified source stones.”

Even the three buyers inhaled sharply at the astronomical price, yet none withdrew.

“One million two hundred thousand,” the Shadow emissary rasped first.

“One million five hundred thousand,” the Holylight dissenter immediately countered.

Watching the price climb higher and higher, Ire instead felt a growing dread.

His pointed ears twitched.

A faint sound — something entirely foreign to the underground market — was rapidly approaching.

It was the sound of something slicing through the air at incredible speed.

No breathing.

No heartbeat.

“Wait! Elder, something’s coming!” Ire suddenly shouted.

But it was too late.

BOOM — !!

The reinforced dome ceiling of the auction hall melted instantly beneath terrifying heat. Blinding white holy light and dark-blue plasma beams rained down simultaneously, turning the entire chamber into a sea of fire.

Falling rubble mixed with screams. Ire was hurled through the air by the blast wave and slammed violently into a wall, coughing up blood.

When he struggled to raise his head, the sight before him plunged him into utter despair.

Descending through the molten opening above was not an ordinary army, but two forces that should have been slaughtering each other on the battlefield —

Three fully cloaked Alchemist Clan Ghost Mechs equipped with heavy weaponry, alongside over a dozen Holylight Heretic Inquisitors dressed in unmarked white robes and wielding radiant blades.

They had appeared here together.

“A cleanup operation… They’re here to erase us!” one of the buyers screamed in terror.

Before he could even draw his weapon, a beam of holy light vaporized him into ash.

The three Ghost Mechs immediately trained their cannons on the curtain behind which Mara sat, unleashing a storm of firepower that shredded the entire area apart.

“Elder!” Ire cried in despair.

“Run… Ire… Take the Echo Stone… and go…”

Within the smoke and debris, Mara’s broken body lay collapsed in a pool of blood. With the last of her strength, she hurled a rune-covered crystal toward him.

It was the highest-level storage device — the repository containing every piece of the truth.

Ire caught the Echo Stone, tears bursting from his eyes.

At last, he understood why this was called a deadly intelligence trade.

Whether it was Valerius of the Holylight Clan or Mobius of the Alchemist Clan, how could such calculating politicians possibly allow the Phantasmal Clan to retain leverage this dangerous?

Though they were not allies, they had reached a terrifying mutual understanding on one matter:

The truth must be buried.

This raid was a joint purge carried out by the two great factions to erase all evidence forever.

“Target confirmed. Surviving Phantasmal Clan member carrying Zero-Class Intelligence. Elimination protocol initiated.”

One of the Ghost Mechs locked its mechanical eye onto Ire as deadly light gathered within its cannon barrel.

Ire did not hesitate.

He bit down hard on his tongue and unleashed a shriek beyond the limits of physics itself — a piercing ultrasonic scream capable of rupturing every eardrum nearby.

BWOOOOOM — !!

The scream triggered a chain overload among the cavern’s resonance crystals. Blinding flashes and sonic shockwaves instantly crippled the auditory sensors of the Ghost Mechs, while the Holylight Inquisitors clutched their ears in agony.

Using those few seconds of chaos, Ire darted like a phantom into a hidden ventilation shaft known only to the Phantasmal Clan.

Behind him, the once-thriving underground black market had become a one-sided massacre.

Thousands of his clansmen screamed in despair amid flames and beams of light. The priceless secrets that once commanded fortunes now flowed together with rivers of blood into the sewers of darkness.

Ire crawled desperately through the narrow, pitch-black ducts, tears and blood streaming across his face. He clutched the cold Echo Stone tightly against his chest, as though embracing the final spark of the Phantasmal Clan.

In a single night, the greatest intelligence network on Lanco Star had been uprooted entirely.

And Ire — a minor information broker who had once only wished to survive between the cracks of greater powers — had now become the most dangerous fugitive on the planet.

Because in his hands rested the final powder keg capable of igniting total war.

Note: “Originally written by the author” This story was originally written in Chinese by the author and translated into English with the assistance of AI