The sky turned red.
Not metaphorically. Literally — a swirling crimson vortex had opened above the city, crackling with lightning and spewing the occasional lost cow. Varnox’s Spire of Screams pulsed with magic, a tower so tall it scraped the clouds and insulted gravity itself. Rico Maldino stood on the balcony of the rebel base, wearing enchanted armor made from dragon scale and street junk. Around him, his ragtag army prepped for war. Misfit mercenaries. Retired bounty hunters. Mage bikers. One very angry librarian with a rocket wand. “Tell me again why we’re attacking a flying tower protected by death magic and guarded by elite shadow assassins?” Juno asked, loading her crossbow. “Because,” Rico said, lighting a cigar made of calming herbs, “he pissed me off.” Zara Flame landed beside them, flame-bladed sword over her shoulder. “Also, he put a bounty on your head. A big one.” “How big?” Juno asked. “Like, ‘people-who-don’t-even-know-you-want-to-kill-you’ big.” “Charming.” --- The Battle Plan (Sort Of) Rico unrolled a blueprint that was mostly drawings of explosions and angry stick figures. “Alright,” he said, pointing. “The Spire is protected by three magical barriers. First, the Soul Net — fries anyone without a clean conscience.” “Ha! We’re screwed,” Juno muttered. “Second, the Clockwork Guard — enchanted golems powered by time loops. They’ll keep fighting even after death unless we disrupt the mechanism.” “Charming,” Zara said. “Third?” “Third…” Rico paused. “A floating riddle sphinx named Harold. We have to answer a question to get in.” They all stared. “…You’re serious?” Zara asked. “Unfortunately.” --- The Assault Begins The rebel airships soared into the sky. Glowing balloons, arcane rotors, and pure stubbornness kept them aloft. Below, Varnox’s city — once orderly and oppressive — had descended into chaos. Fires. Riots. Rogue magic. Rico’s voice echoed over the ship’s comm-crystal. “Everyone ready? Because we’re about to make history. Or die in a way that’ll make a great ballad.” Cheers erupted. Even Fritz, the goblin accountant, had strapped himself to a turret. “FOR CHAOTIC BOOKKEEPING!” he screamed. Then came the flash. A beam of red light fired from the Spire, disintegrating one of their ships midair. “Guess the fireworks started early,” Juno muttered. --- Barrier One: The Soul Net The lead airship, The Bad Idea, smashed through the clouds and met the first defense — a glowing web of ethereal threads humming with judgment. As predicted, it lashed out violently — but something strange happened. It stopped right before touching Rico. The Soul Net flickered. “Wait…” he said. “It didn’t kill me.” “Are you saying your conscience is clear?” Zara asked. “I’m saying maybe it’s confused.” They made it through — barely. Juno screamed as a thread singed her braid. Fritz passed out. A goat screamed in Latin for some reason. But they were in. --- Barrier Two: The Clockwork Guard The golems rose from the clouds, spinning gears in their chests and steam shooting from their arms. Towering, unkillable metal soldiers — enchanted to rewind time each time they were destroyed. “Oh good,” Zara said, drawing her sword. “Time bullies.” Rico jumped from the airship, landing on a golem’s head and planting a mana mine. “Boom in 3…” “Rico, they just rewind—” BOOM. The golem exploded. Time reversed. It came back. Rico fell off. “Okay, plan B!” he shouted. Juno, from the deck, loaded a glowing bolt. “Time disruption arrow. Let’s scramble their clocks.” She fired. The bolt split midair into five, each hitting a golem’s chest. The golems stuttered. Froze. One sang “Happy Birthday” in reverse. Zara leapt through them, a blur of fire and fury, slicing through their cores. When it was over, the battlefield was filled with steaming metal. Rico landed beside her, panting. “Remind me to never fight time again.” --- Barrier Three: Harold the Sphinx A floating platform hovered before the final gate. Atop it lounged a giant sphinx with spectacles and a mug that read “#1 Riddle Lord.” “Harold,” Rico said. “Rico,” Harold replied with a sigh. “You again.” “You know him?” Zara asked. “We went to summer hex camp together.” “I regret it deeply,” Harold added. “You know the deal. Ask your riddle.” Harold stood, wings spreading majestically. “Very well. Answer me this: What walks on four legs in the morning, two legs at noon, and three in the evening?” Everyone paused. “That’s just the old man riddle,” Juno said. “It’s a human.” “Damn it,” Harold muttered, stepping aside. “You may pass.” --- Entering the Spire The Spire’s doors opened with a hiss. Inside, magic screamed. The walls pulsed with arcane energy, and whispers drifted like smoke through the halls. Floors shifted. Time bent. Reality occasionally blinked and changed fonts. “This place is awful,” Zara muttered, stabbing a hallucination. Suddenly, a massive roar shook the chamber. The Warden of the Core descended — a corrupted dragon made of void magic and dark gold. Eyes glowing like black suns. “Oh no,” Juno whispered. “We’re fighting that?” “Looks like it,” Rico said, summoning his blades. “Try not to get eaten.” --- The Core Battle The Warden lunged. Zara met it midair, flame versus void. Juno fired a bolt into its wing. Rico slashed at its claws, laughing like a lunatic. It breathed black fire — twisting, corrupting flame. Rico countered with a barrier of powdered hope and spite. Zara struck its heart, only for it to regenerate. “It’s feeding off the tower!” she shouted. “Then we bring the tower down,” Rico said. Juno found the stabilizer — a spinning crystal powered by stolen dreams. She shot it. It shattered. The Warden shrieked — and for a moment, everyone heard every mistake they ever made. Then it imploded. --- The Throne Room They entered the highest chamber. And there he was. Varnox. Tall. Robed in cosmic energy. Crowned in madness. Smiling with too many teeth. “Well, well,” he said. “The drug lord, the thief, and the fire witch.” “You forgot ‘renounced,’” Rico said. Varnox clapped. “Very cute. Now die.” --- Final Duel: Rico vs Varnox Magic exploded. Reality bent. Swords clashed. Spells collided. Rico drank a vial labeled “Don’t Drink This” and started glowing blue. He summoned illusions, tricks, and his trademark move: Blinding Punch of Misguided Justice. Zara unleashed a flaming tornado. Juno sniped from a chandelier. But Varnox was powerful — impossibly so. He struck Rico down, slamming him into the ground. “You’re just a criminal,” Varnox sneered. “No,” Rico said, coughing blood and laughter. “I’m the guy who quit being a criminal to take down monsters like you.” He triggered the last mana bomb — hidden in his boot. The entire room exploded. --- Epilogue: After the Smoke Varnox was gone. The Spire cracked. Crumbled. The city was free. Rico sat on the edge of the wreckage, covered in dust, smiling. Zara sat beside him, holding a slightly melted sandwich. Juno approached, tossing him a healing potion. “We did it,” she said. He nodded. “Now what?” Zara looked out at the burning skyline. “…We rebuild. Better this time.” Rico grinned. “Cool. But first — tacos?”
Related Chapters
The Renounced Drug lord Tacos, Treason, and a Tiny Crown
The city of Grimhaven hadn't stopped burning.Not from chaos. Not from war.From celebration.Rico “The Alchemist” Maldino stood in the middle of the once-feared Spire’s ruins, now a rebel sanctuary littered with dancing revolutionaries, magical food carts, and a DJ cyclops who only played remixed bard tunes.“WE TOOK DOWN VARNOOOOX!” screamed someone from atop a floating keg.“TACOS FOR EVERYONE!” yelled another, slinging spicy meat from a summoned llama.It was victory. Glorious. Loud. Confusing. Slightly undercooked.Rico sipped a drink glowing an unnatural purple. “What is this?”“Dragonberry Chaos Juice,” said Juno, already on her fourth.“I think I can see sound,” Zara added, blinking at a humming lamppost.---The Morning AfterRico woke up under a table. On top of a piano. Which was somehow on the roof of a bakery.Next to him, Zara was spooning a giant ceremonial sword.Juno hung upside down from a banner reading LONG LIVE THE NEW ORDER, snoring.He blinked.“Okay,” he mutter
The Renounced Drug lord The Mole, The Mage, and the Midnight Heist
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 RebelsIt 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’v
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
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
