Home / Fantasy / The Renounced Drug lord / The Mole, The Mage, and the Midnight Heist
The Mole, The Mage, and the Midnight Heist
Author: J.s.zalx
last update2025-04-20 07:14:52

Peace is boring.

That’s what Rico Maldino told himself as he stared at a stack of rebel council reports, most of which read:

“Wand tax riots in South District.”

“Lava rats infestation (again).”

“Someone enchanted the mayor’s chair to scream.”

“Wasn’t me,” Juno said, mouth full of pastry.

“You’re the only one with a cursed cherry wand,” Zara pointed out.

“I’m being falsely profiled.”

Rico ignored them both. Something was wrong. It wasn’t just instinct—it was a tickle in the air. A magical itch he hadn’t felt since the last time he was set up.

The problem wasn’t outside the city.

It was inside.

---

A Spy Among Rebels

It began with whispers.

Supplies vanished. Surveillance spells went blank. An entire outpost fell silent overnight, only to be found days later, burned to ash — no survivors, no tracks, no answers.

Rico gathered the core team in the war room: Zara, Juno, Fritz the goblin, and Munk, their two-headed strategist (one head was a pessimist, the other head was just hungry).

“We’ve got a mole,” Rico said.

“Finally,” Zara growled. “I’ve been dying to stab something in the name of security.”

“We don’t know who yet,” Juno added. “It’s someone with access to our war plans.”

“And a preference for dramatic timing,” Munk’s right head said.

“Or tacos,” the left head offered.

Fritz slammed down a map. “Whoever they are, they’ve been leaking our troop shifts, disabling enchantments, and recently…” he pointed, “…they gave someone the location of the Vault of Artifice.”

Silence.

That vault held ancient magical tech — old world alchemy bombs, forbidden scrolls, and Rico’s emergency stockpile of “really bad ideas.”

“Oh no,” he muttered.

“We have to catch them. Tonight,” Zara said.

---

The Bait

They needed a trap. Something tempting. Something a traitor couldn’t resist.

So Rico staged a fake transport of “Chrono Dust” — a mythical powder that could rewind time for ten seconds (allegedly).

It wasn’t real.

It was glitter, paprika, and powdered hope. Juno labeled it: Definitely Not Fake Chrono Dust, Do Not Steal — complete with sparkles.

The fake cart would move under light guard through the Moon Market at midnight.

Hidden among the merchants and magical hookah vendors, Rico and Juno watched.

“I bet it’s Clove,” Juno whispered. “That guy’s too charming. Smells like betrayal and cinnamon.”

Rico shook his head. “No. Too obvious.”

Then… it happened.

A shadow slipped toward the cart. Silent. Precise. They touched the chest, whispered a word, and—

FLASH!

A magic net exploded from the box. The traitor froze, wrapped in shimmering energy.

The illusion shattered, revealing—

Commander Elric.

Zara’s second-in-command. Rico’s old contact from the rebellion days. Loyal. Trusted. Deadly.

Everyone stared.

“No way,” Juno whispered. “He used to babysit the rebel kids!”

Elric struggled against the net. “You don’t understand—!”

“Explain,” Rico said, eyes hard.

Elric looked right at him.

“I wasn’t working against you. I was trying to protect you.”

---

The Web Unraveled

In a secure chamber, Elric explained everything.

“There’s a new power,” he said, chained but calm. “Not like Varnox. Not a warlord. Not a king.”

“Then what?” Zara asked.

“A collective,” Elric said. “They call themselves the Pale Circle. They don’t want power. They want to erase it. Reset the world.”

“Sounds cult-y,” Juno muttered.

“They infiltrate movements. Seed doubt. Use fear, charm, or mind-bending magic. And they’ve already embedded someone else. Someone you still trust.”

Everyone turned to each other.

“I knew it was Clove!” Juno yelled.

“No!” Elric barked. “It’s someone higher. Someone who’s been beside Rico since the beginning.”

The room went quiet.

Zara’s hand hovered over her sword.

“Don’t say it,” she whispered.

“I don’t know who,” Elric admitted. “But I intercepted a message—someone here is scheduled to deliver the Soul Crown to the Pale Circle. If they succeed…”

He didn’t have to finish.

The Soul Crown — long believed a myth — was a mind-control artifact forged in the Great Collapse. If it fell into the wrong hands…

Rico stood.

“We’re taking it first.”

---

Midnight Heist

According to Elric, the Soul Crown was hidden deep beneath the ruins of the Old Ministry — protected by ancient traps, illusion mazes, and a guardian known only as “The Echo.”

Naturally, Rico brought Juno, Zara, and Munk.

Because nothing screamed “easy” like cursed relic recovery at midnight.

“I swear,” Juno grumbled as they descended through a trapdoor, “we should start charging people for not stealing stuff.”

The maze was alive — shifting halls, fake walls, and voices mimicking their deepest fears.

“Zara,” a ghostly whisper said, “you failed them. Just like you failed your sister.”

Zara stabbed the wall. “I said shut up.”

“Munk,” said another voice, “you’ll always be… snacks.”

“Rude,” both heads said.

“Rico,” a soft voice said behind him. “You haven’t changed at all.”

He spun.

It was… himself.

A younger Rico. Cold. Cruel. With blood on his gloves and a smile like venom.

“You’re still that guy,” the vision whispered. “You just learned to smile while doing it.”

Rico said nothing.

He just walked through the ghost.

---

The Echo

At the heart of the maze stood a being of pure sound — the Echo.

It floated in silence until they approached. Then, with a voice like thunder and silk:

“One may pass. One may fall. One must stay behind.”

“Oh come on,” Juno groaned.

“Riddles again?” Munk shouted. “We don’t even like math!”

Zara stepped forward. “No. This is a test of choice.”

“I’ll go,” Rico said.

Juno blinked. “You sure?”

He nodded. “This started with me. I’ll finish it.”

The Echo opened a gate. Only Rico passed through.

---

The Vault of the Soul Crown

It glowed.

Hovering in a shaft of moonlight, resting on a pedestal of weeping stone — the Soul Crown pulsed like a living thing. Screams echoed from its metal. Faces flickered on its surface. Regret, fury, ambition.

Rico approached slowly.

His hands trembled.

“You always wanted power,” a voice whispered. “Now take it. Be king. Be real.”

He reached out.

Then stopped.

“No,” he said. “I’m not that man anymore.”

He turned — just in time to see a crossbow aimed at his back.

Click.

He spun and ducked. The bolt missed. Standing in the shadows was—

Zara.

---

Betrayal (Almost)

She stepped forward, crossbow still raised.

“I wanted to believe in this city,” she said. “But it’s broken. All of it. This crown can fix it. The Pale Circle… they promised.”

“You lied to all of us,” Rico growled.

“I protected you. Every time you almost got yourself killed, every suicidal plan — I was there!”

“You’re like family, Zara,” Rico said quietly.

“Then don’t make me shoot you.”

They stared.

Rico tossed the Soul Crown into the air.

Zara’s eyes widened. Instinctively, she caught it.

That’s when the net spell triggered.

SNAP!

She was wrapped in stasis threads.

Juno and Munk burst in.

“I knew it!” Juno shouted. “Sorry—love you, Zara, but wow, your betrayal arc was really dramatic.”

Zara just glared as the net held her tight.

---

The Fallout

Zara was imprisoned — not in chains, but in a magic null zone. Rico visited her the next morning.

“Do you regret it?” he asked.

“…No,” she said. “But I regret doing it alone.”

He nodded.

“I’m not angry,” Rico said. “I’m just tired.”

“So what now?”

Rico looked out the window at a city waking up, unaware of how close it came to disaster.

“Now,” he said, “we get ready.”

“For what?”

“For the real war.”

Continue to read this book for free
Scan the code to download the app

Related Chapters

  • The Renounced Drug lord    The Art or Wars and Magical Noodles

    The sun never really rose in Smogtown, it just decided not to fall asleep. A thick haze of alchemical fumes floated above cracked towers and crooked chimneys, painting everything in a toxic glow. This was the kind of place where spells went to die, and where Rico Maldino once thrived. Back before he was “The Alchemist,” before the robes and titles, he was just Rico, the street rat with quick hands and quicker feet. And Smogtown was his old playground. Now it was the last place he wanted to be. “Remind me why we’re here again?” Juno asked, swatting away a floating rat with wings and a bad attitude. “Because I need a war tactician,” Rico replied, hood up, cloak wrapped tight. “Someone crazy enough to draw up battle plans in the middle of a noodle shop.” “I don’t see how that narrows it down.” “It does in Smogtown.” They turned a corner and approached a crumbling building with a glowing neon sign that read: “Xiao-Mage’s Wok & War Room.” Juno stopped. “You’re joking.” “I wish I w

  • The Renounced Drug lord    The Elixir of Memories

    The morning sun didn’t rise over Grenvale—it exploded. Not literally, but the sky cracked open in a golden blast that drenched the mountains in fire-colored light. Rico “The Alchemist” Maldino squinted from under his hood, perched at the peak of Mount Virelin. The peak overlooked three kingdoms and at least seven kingdoms-worth of his problems.His eye twitched as he chewed the end of a licorice root. "Three realms ready to burn, and I still can't remember the spell for non-fat whipped cream."Beside him, a floating turtle monk—yes, floating—turned its wrinkled head. “It’s ‘Whipparius Nonfaticus.’ Try to remember. We’re literally one wrong ingredient away from exploding the timeline again.”“I only did that once,” Rico muttered, fiddling with the glowing green vial at his belt. “Twice if you count the incident with the rabid moon goats.”The turtle ignored him, meditating mid-air like only a three-century-old reptilian sage could. They were on a mission: infiltrate the ruins of the Ol

  • The Renounced Drug lord    The Alchemist’s War Council

    The wind howled across the ruins of Mount Virelin as if mourning the secrets that had just been unearthed. Rico “The Alchemist” Maldino stood at the edge of a cliff, his cloak whipping around him, mind roaring louder than the wind.He’d just absorbed the Elixir of Memories. Every horror, every betrayal, every spell carved into his soul was now crystal clear.They made him.Marlow. The High Circle. Maybe even the Empress herself.He wasn’t born a drug lord. He was engineered to become one.“Rico,” said the floating turtle monk beside him. “You look constipated.”“That’s because I just remembered my origin story involves illegal experiments, mind control, and a small talking goat named Barry.”The turtle blinked. “Ah. Yes. That would do it.”Rico turned away from the cliff and faced the ragtag group gathering behind him—his war council. Or what passed for one when you were a fugitive ex-criminal leading a resistance against a magical empire.There was Zara, the techno-witch who’d once t

  • The Renounced Drug lord    Fire at the Gates

    The ground trembled beneath Rico Maldino’s feet.Not from fear. From marching.Dozens of rogue alchemists, half-dead war experiments, golems, tree spirits, and one sky pirate playing a banjo advanced toward the looming capital—Alchemara, the City of Pure Flame.Rico stood on a high ridge, his cloak snapping in the wind, a satchel of spells strapped to his side. His war council surrounded him.To his left, Zara twirled her blade like a bored dancer, her eyes flicking over a floating hologram of the city’s defenses. “They’ve tripled the wall guards,” she said. “Even the flaming pigeons are armed.”“To be fair,” muttered Stitches, “those pigeons were always suspicious.”To Rico’s right, Shard cracked her glass wings, her silver eyes glowing. “Let me fly over and explode the towers. Or just the people inside. I’m flexible.”“No,” Rico said calmly. “We do this smart. Loud—but smart.”Behind them, the army waited. Sky pirates loaded bomb balloons. Barkclaw howled instructions to the Ironbou

  • The Renounced Drug lord    Ghosts in the Fire

    Three weeks later, Alchemara was a city learning how to breathe again.No more flaming sky patrols. No Crucible-generated fog. Just sunlight, wind, and voices that no longer whispered in fear.Rico Maldino leaned against a rusted balcony railing, overlooking the recovering city. A child's laughter echoed through the alleys. Somewhere nearby, a band played off-key victory songs with spoons and enchanted stones.Peace was… confusing.He wasn’t used to silence that wasn’t hiding danger.Behind him, Zara kicked the Sanctum Tower door open. “Why is the new council meeting on a rooftop?”“Because rooms have ceilings,” Rico replied. “And I hate being trapped.”“You also hate meetings.”“True.”Stitches arrived next, carrying a steaming mug labeled "NOT POISON (Probably)." Barkclaw followed with two squirrels perched on his shoulder—both apparently now his deputies. Shard hovered overhead, occasionally dive-bombing pigeons for sport.They were all rebuilding in their own way.The New Alchemar

  • The Renounced Drug lord    The Thorn Named Solara

    Alchemara was still licking its wounds when the stranger arrived.She came wrapped in desert silk, black boots crushing cinders, a long curved blade strapped to her back, and a look that said “I’ve seen worse than you.” Her face bore two thin scars beneath each eye—perfectly symmetrical. Magical? Decorative? No one could tell.Her name was Solara Vale.The guards didn’t know whether to bow or run.Rico watched from the Sanctum Tower, arms folded. He didn’t like mysteries he didn’t create. Especially not ones that walked in like they owned the city.“Who let her in?” he asked.“She let herself in,” said Zara, clearly impressed.“She’s a mercenary,” Stitches added. “Worked with the Eastern Rebellion. Fought a fire-mage army using nothing but bone powder and arrogance.”“And rumor has it,” Shard chirped, “she once killed a man just by insulting his magical technique.”Rico grunted. “Sounds dramatic.”The doors creaked open behind him.“Rico Maldino,” said a voice like sharp velvet. “You

  • The Renounced Drug lord    Ashes of the Past

    The night was still, thick with the scent of burned earth and sorrow. Alchemara had suffered its first major loss with the death of Solara, and the city had yet to recover its sense of security. It wasn’t just the people mourning her death—it was the leaderless feeling in the air. Rico had never been one to inspire confidence, but now, in the wake of Solara’s sacrifice, that void was glaring.Rico sat alone in his chambers, staring at Solara’s blade—a perfect curve of blackened steel. He ran his fingers over the etched symbols along the hilt, remembering her final words: “I know. And I wish we had more time.”It had been two weeks since her death, and still, he hadn’t spoken to anyone, hadn’t led a single council meeting. His hand trembled as he tightened his grip on the sword."What would you have me do?" he muttered to the empty room.---The first challenge came from an unlikely source.Zara burst into his quarters, looking furious. “Rico, you’ve been sitting here like a statue. Pe

  • The Renounced Drug lord    The Devil's Shadow

    Zara moved like mist—silent, shapeless, and untraceable. She wore a long grey cloak enchanted with shadowbinding runes, each glyph pulsing faintly as she stepped deeper into enemy territory. The Awakened stronghold, known as Blackspire, loomed ahead like a twisted cathedral, its spires scraping the clouds and its walls alive with runic defenses that shimmered like fireflies in reverse.She crouched behind a crumbled pillar, watching two guards chant in sync, their voices low and haunting. The gate ahead pulsed with necrotic energy. Zara pulled a small crystal from her pouch—a gift from Rico. He had crafted it years ago during his darker days, but it still carried his signature blend of alchemy and magic. The crystal shimmered blue and allowed her to blend perfectly into the stone wall behind her.I will not fail you, Rico, she thought, before slipping past the gate undetected.---Back in Alchemara, Rico stood alone in the underground chamber beneath the city's library—a place where t

Latest Chapter

  • Redemption in Blood

    The streets of Alchemara felt colder without her. Even the sun, bright as ever, seemed dimmed by Zara's absence. Rico walked in silence, the weight of her sacrifice pressing on his shoulders like the chains he'd once worn in the deepest dungeons of Ironvale. Every face he passed reminded him of her laugh, her rage, her fierce defiance.Shard approached him in the corridor leading to the Council Hall."We’re ready for the next move," she said. "But you need rest."Rico’s eyes didn’t move from the window."I don’t get to rest until I’ve torn down every Awakened altar left standing."---The Council debated tactics. Rico barely listened. Zara had left behind her notes—detailed scribblings on Blackspire's secrets. Veyr wasn’t the only Prophet. He was one of seven. And with his death, the others would retaliate.Rico slammed his fist on the map."Let them come. I’ll bury them next to him."---In the southern outskirts of Veritas Hollow, a small town known for its healing springs, strange

  • The Devil's Shadow

    Zara moved like mist—silent, shapeless, and untraceable. She wore a long grey cloak enchanted with shadowbinding runes, each glyph pulsing faintly as she stepped deeper into enemy territory. The Awakened stronghold, known as Blackspire, loomed ahead like a twisted cathedral, its spires scraping the clouds and its walls alive with runic defenses that shimmered like fireflies in reverse.She crouched behind a crumbled pillar, watching two guards chant in sync, their voices low and haunting. The gate ahead pulsed with necrotic energy. Zara pulled a small crystal from her pouch—a gift from Rico. He had crafted it years ago during his darker days, but it still carried his signature blend of alchemy and magic. The crystal shimmered blue and allowed her to blend perfectly into the stone wall behind her.I will not fail you, Rico, she thought, before slipping past the gate undetected.---Back in Alchemara, Rico stood alone in the underground chamber beneath the city's library—a place where t

  • Ashes of the Past

    The night was still, thick with the scent of burned earth and sorrow. Alchemara had suffered its first major loss with the death of Solara, and the city had yet to recover its sense of security. It wasn’t just the people mourning her death—it was the leaderless feeling in the air. Rico had never been one to inspire confidence, but now, in the wake of Solara’s sacrifice, that void was glaring.Rico sat alone in his chambers, staring at Solara’s blade—a perfect curve of blackened steel. He ran his fingers over the etched symbols along the hilt, remembering her final words: “I know. And I wish we had more time.”It had been two weeks since her death, and still, he hadn’t spoken to anyone, hadn’t led a single council meeting. His hand trembled as he tightened his grip on the sword."What would you have me do?" he muttered to the empty room.---The first challenge came from an unlikely source.Zara burst into his quarters, looking furious. “Rico, you’ve been sitting here like a statue. Pe

  • The Thorn Named Solara

    Alchemara was still licking its wounds when the stranger arrived.She came wrapped in desert silk, black boots crushing cinders, a long curved blade strapped to her back, and a look that said “I’ve seen worse than you.” Her face bore two thin scars beneath each eye—perfectly symmetrical. Magical? Decorative? No one could tell.Her name was Solara Vale.The guards didn’t know whether to bow or run.Rico watched from the Sanctum Tower, arms folded. He didn’t like mysteries he didn’t create. Especially not ones that walked in like they owned the city.“Who let her in?” he asked.“She let herself in,” said Zara, clearly impressed.“She’s a mercenary,” Stitches added. “Worked with the Eastern Rebellion. Fought a fire-mage army using nothing but bone powder and arrogance.”“And rumor has it,” Shard chirped, “she once killed a man just by insulting his magical technique.”Rico grunted. “Sounds dramatic.”The doors creaked open behind him.“Rico Maldino,” said a voice like sharp velvet. “You

  • Ghosts in the Fire

    Three weeks later, Alchemara was a city learning how to breathe again.No more flaming sky patrols. No Crucible-generated fog. Just sunlight, wind, and voices that no longer whispered in fear.Rico Maldino leaned against a rusted balcony railing, overlooking the recovering city. A child's laughter echoed through the alleys. Somewhere nearby, a band played off-key victory songs with spoons and enchanted stones.Peace was… confusing.He wasn’t used to silence that wasn’t hiding danger.Behind him, Zara kicked the Sanctum Tower door open. “Why is the new council meeting on a rooftop?”“Because rooms have ceilings,” Rico replied. “And I hate being trapped.”“You also hate meetings.”“True.”Stitches arrived next, carrying a steaming mug labeled "NOT POISON (Probably)." Barkclaw followed with two squirrels perched on his shoulder—both apparently now his deputies. Shard hovered overhead, occasionally dive-bombing pigeons for sport.They were all rebuilding in their own way.The New Alchemar

  • Fire at the Gates

    The ground trembled beneath Rico Maldino’s feet.Not from fear. From marching.Dozens of rogue alchemists, half-dead war experiments, golems, tree spirits, and one sky pirate playing a banjo advanced toward the looming capital—Alchemara, the City of Pure Flame.Rico stood on a high ridge, his cloak snapping in the wind, a satchel of spells strapped to his side. His war council surrounded him.To his left, Zara twirled her blade like a bored dancer, her eyes flicking over a floating hologram of the city’s defenses. “They’ve tripled the wall guards,” she said. “Even the flaming pigeons are armed.”“To be fair,” muttered Stitches, “those pigeons were always suspicious.”To Rico’s right, Shard cracked her glass wings, her silver eyes glowing. “Let me fly over and explode the towers. Or just the people inside. I’m flexible.”“No,” Rico said calmly. “We do this smart. Loud—but smart.”Behind them, the army waited. Sky pirates loaded bomb balloons. Barkclaw howled instructions to the Ironbou

  • The Alchemist’s War Council

    The wind howled across the ruins of Mount Virelin as if mourning the secrets that had just been unearthed. Rico “The Alchemist” Maldino stood at the edge of a cliff, his cloak whipping around him, mind roaring louder than the wind.He’d just absorbed the Elixir of Memories. Every horror, every betrayal, every spell carved into his soul was now crystal clear.They made him.Marlow. The High Circle. Maybe even the Empress herself.He wasn’t born a drug lord. He was engineered to become one.“Rico,” said the floating turtle monk beside him. “You look constipated.”“That’s because I just remembered my origin story involves illegal experiments, mind control, and a small talking goat named Barry.”The turtle blinked. “Ah. Yes. That would do it.”Rico turned away from the cliff and faced the ragtag group gathering behind him—his war council. Or what passed for one when you were a fugitive ex-criminal leading a resistance against a magical empire.There was Zara, the techno-witch who’d once t

  • The Elixir of Memories

    The morning sun didn’t rise over Grenvale—it exploded. Not literally, but the sky cracked open in a golden blast that drenched the mountains in fire-colored light. Rico “The Alchemist” Maldino squinted from under his hood, perched at the peak of Mount Virelin. The peak overlooked three kingdoms and at least seven kingdoms-worth of his problems.His eye twitched as he chewed the end of a licorice root. "Three realms ready to burn, and I still can't remember the spell for non-fat whipped cream."Beside him, a floating turtle monk—yes, floating—turned its wrinkled head. “It’s ‘Whipparius Nonfaticus.’ Try to remember. We’re literally one wrong ingredient away from exploding the timeline again.”“I only did that once,” Rico muttered, fiddling with the glowing green vial at his belt. “Twice if you count the incident with the rabid moon goats.”The turtle ignored him, meditating mid-air like only a three-century-old reptilian sage could. They were on a mission: infiltrate the ruins of the Ol

  • The Art or Wars and Magical Noodles

    The sun never really rose in Smogtown, it just decided not to fall asleep. A thick haze of alchemical fumes floated above cracked towers and crooked chimneys, painting everything in a toxic glow. This was the kind of place where spells went to die, and where Rico Maldino once thrived. Back before he was “The Alchemist,” before the robes and titles, he was just Rico, the street rat with quick hands and quicker feet. And Smogtown was his old playground. Now it was the last place he wanted to be. “Remind me why we’re here again?” Juno asked, swatting away a floating rat with wings and a bad attitude. “Because I need a war tactician,” Rico replied, hood up, cloak wrapped tight. “Someone crazy enough to draw up battle plans in the middle of a noodle shop.” “I don’t see how that narrows it down.” “It does in Smogtown.” They turned a corner and approached a crumbling building with a glowing neon sign that read: “Xiao-Mage’s Wok & War Room.” Juno stopped. “You’re joking.” “I wish I w

Explore and read good novels for free
Free access to a vast number of good novels on MegaNovel app. Download the books you like and read anywhere & anytime.
Read books for free on the app
Scan code to read on App