Three Days Later - Luminaris Academy
Marcus sat in Advanced Combat Theory, apparently focused on Professor Kellan's lecture about battlefield tactics. In reality, he was monitoring reports from his information network about the escalating gang war.
Five Silent Blade operations destroyed. Eight Crimson Hand safehouses eliminated in retaliation. Forty-seven confirmed deaths between both syndicates. The City Guard had increased patrols, established martial law in affected districts, and was hunting for the conflict's source.
Perfect chaos. Both syndicates were so focused on each other that they'd forgotten about Phantom entirely.
"Mr. Aldrich," Kellan called out. "Since you seem distracted, perhaps you can explain how an outnumbered force might turn enemy factions against each other?"
Marcus looked up, momentarily concerned she'd somehow read his mind. Then he realized it was just lecture topic coincidence.
"False flag operations," he answered smoothly. "Attack one faction using another faction's signature methods. Create evidence suggesting betrayal or aggression. Let the enemies destroy each other while you remain unthreatened."
"Precisely. It's a classic strategy used throughout military history. Though it requires exceptional intelligence gathering and perfect execution. One mistake and both factions realize they're being manipulated, then turn on the actual enemy." Kellan smiled slightly. "Fortunately, such sophisticated tactics are rare in real-world criminal operations. Most criminals lack the patience and planning required."
Marcus nodded and returned to his notes, hiding a smile. Most criminals, perhaps. But he wasn't most criminals.
After class, Lyra intercepted him in the hallway. Her violet eyes were serious, concerned.
"Marcus, we need to talk. Privately."
"About?"
"About the fact that you've been 'busy' every night for the past week, the same nights that someone's been orchestrating a gang war in the dock district. About the fact that you seem remarkably well-informed about criminal syndicate operations. About the fact that I'm not stupid, and I see patterns others miss."
Marcus's expression remained neutral. "Those are serious accusations."
"They're not accusations. They're observations. I'm not going to report you or confront you publicly. I just want to understand what you're involved in, because right now, my friend is either a genius who's coincidentally knowledgeable about crime, or actively participating in something dangerous." Lyra lowered her voice. "And if it's the second option, I want to help. Not expose you. Help."
Marcus studied her carefully. Lyra had been suspicious for weeks, gathering evidence, watching patterns. She was too intelligent to dismiss and too persistent to avoid indefinitely.
"Walk with me," he said finally, leading her toward the academy gardens where privacy wards were common and conversation could be contained.
Once they were alone, Marcus activated a privacy ward and turned to face her. "What exactly do you think you know?"
"I think you're Phantom. I think you've been eliminating criminals for months while maintaining your student identity. I think you're now fighting a shadow war against assassin syndicates that threatened you." Lyra met his gaze steadily. "And I think you're doing it alone, which is dangerous and stupid when you have friends who could help."
Marcus was silent for a long moment, weighing options. Denying was pointless—she had enough evidence to be certain. Confirming meant trusting someone with his greatest secret. Eliminating her crossed a line he wasn't willing to cross with actual friends.
"Hypothetically," Marcus said carefully, "if someone were Phantom, and they confirmed that to you, what would you do with that information?"
"Keep it secret. Absolutely. Because hypothetically, Phantom has only killed people who deserved it. Slavers, murderers, corrupt officials. If my friend were doing that work, I'd respect it even if I didn't entirely approve of the methods." Lyra stepped closer. "But I'd also insist on helping. Because friends don't let friends fight alone against organizations with hundreds of members."
"Hypothetically, accepting help means sharing information, coordinating operations, trusting someone else with decisions that could get us both killed. That's a significant risk."
"Less risk than fighting alone and eventually making a mistake that gets you killed. You're brilliant, Marcus, but you're not invincible. The Crimson Hand and Silent Blades are both hunting for whoever started their war. Eventually, they'll figure it out. When they do, you'll need allies."
Marcus considered. Lyra was Bronze Rank - High Stage, skilled in combat, intelligent, and apparently committed to keeping his secret. Having her as an ally would be valuable. But it also meant one more person who could betray him, one more vulnerability in his carefully constructed defenses.
"If I hypothetically confirmed your suspicions, I'd need guarantees. Magical binding, perhaps. Something that ensures you can't reveal my identity even under duress."
"Soul-bound oath. I'll swear it right now if you want. Complete secrecy, absolute loyalty to your safety, no betrayal under any circumstances." Lyra's expression was earnest, determined. "I'm not asking to join your operations immediately. I'm asking to be someone you can trust, someone who knows your secret and will protect it. Start small, build trust over time, see if the partnership works."
Marcus made his decision. "Swear the oath first. Then we'll talk about hypotheticals."
Lyra pulled out a ritual dagger—standard equipment for formal magical oaths. She cut her palm, letting blood flow as she spoke the ancient words: "I, Lyra Brightwind, swear on my soul and cultivation that I will keep Marcus Aldrich's secrets absolutely. I will not reveal his identity as Phantom through word, deed, or magical compulsion. I will not betray his trust or act against his interests. This oath binds me until death or mutual dissolution, enforced by my own soul. Should I break this oath, may my cultivation be destroyed and my life forfeit."
The magical binding snapped into place—Marcus could feel it through his own mana senses, a genuine soul-bound oath that would kill Lyra if she violated its terms.
"Alright," Marcus said finally, dropping his guarded tone. "Yes, I'm Phantom. Yes, I started the gang war to protect myself from Crimson Hand recruitment threats. And yes, it's dangerous, which is why I've been careful about who knows."
Lyra's expression showed relief and concern simultaneously. "Thank you for trusting me. Now, let's talk about how we keep you alive and make sure the syndicates destroy each other instead of figuring out you played them."
They spent the next hour discussing strategy, with Lyra proving herself insightful and tactically sound. She identified weaknesses in Marcus's approach he hadn't considered, suggested alternative methods for gathering intelligence, and offered her combat skills for future operations.
By the time they finished, Marcus had to admit having an ally felt... different. Not necessarily better or worse, just different. Less isolating. More complicated.
"One rule," Marcus said as they prepared to leave. "Lucian knows about Phantom too. He's been my partner on several contracts. If you're joining this, you need to coordinate with both of us. No individual operations, no going rogue, no risks without consultation."
"Lucian Ashford is involved?" Lyra blinked. "The genius student who everyone thinks is just focused on academics?"
"He's more complicated than he appears. Like most of us." Marcus smiled slightly. "Welcome to the team, Lyra. Try not to get killed."
"Same to you, Marcus. Same to you."