The word came out simply, directly, without needing reinforcement or repetition, but its weight was enough to define what would follow. Esther didn’t need to ask for confirmation, nor adjust interpretation, because the meaning was unique within that context. To close wasn’t to contain, nor to negotiate, nor to disperse. It was to completely shut down the operation present there, leaving no room for continuity, resumption, or subsequent reorganization.

The environment reacted to the recognition of their presence. Not in a coordinated way, not efficiently, but with the kind of response that arises when people understand they have lost control of the situation before even trying to regain it. Some retreated immediately, hands raised in instinctive reflex, others tried to reach for weapons or improvised tools, and some simply froze, unable to decide between fighting, fleeing, or pleading.

Damon showed no interest in distinguishing between them.

He took the first step into the room without altering his pace, crossing the space as if those people were minor obstacles, without individual relevance. The first man who tried to react couldn’t even complete the movement. Damon reached him first, grabbing him by the front of his clothing and pushing him with enough force against one of the workbenches, breaking the structure and scattering vials and substances across the floor.

The impact was enough to render him unable to react immediately.

Ester moved at the same time, but in a different direction. While Damon advanced through the center, she moved along the sides, eliminating points of potential resistance before they could solidify. Her movements were clean, quick, without wasting energy. One blow at the right point, a precise interruption, and another body fell without making unnecessary noise.

The difference between the two was even more evident in that enclosed environment. Damon didn’t avoid impact, didn’t minimize consequences, didn’t adjust his force. He applied what was necessary to end any threat in the shortest possible time, without concern for the physical integrity of the target. Ester, on the other hand, avoided excesses, not out of hesitation, but out of efficiency. She neutralized before the situation demanded more.

One of the men further back tried to escape through a secondary door. Damon saw the movement without even turning his body completely. A single sideways step was enough to intercept the path, and when the man tried to change direction, it was too late. Damon reached him from behind, grabbing him by the neck and lifting him off the ground without apparent effort.

There was no conversation.

There were no questions.

Just pressure.

The body reacted immediately, legs losing strength, hands trying in vain to break free from the grip. Damon held on for a few seconds, just long enough to ensure there would be no further escape attempt, and then released him. The man fell to the ground, unable to continue.

Meanwhile, Ester had already moved to one of the main tables, quickly analyzing the materials laid out there. Small containers, measuring instruments, liquid substances in different stages of preparation. The smell in the air was more evident there, more concentrated, a clear indication of active manipulation.

"Small-scale production confirmed," she said, without taking her eyes off what she was analyzing. "But with the capacity for rapid expansion."

Damon did not respond immediately. He was busy finishing off the last visible pocket of resistance in the room. A man had tried to attack from behind with an improvised metal tool, but the movement was too slow. Damon spun his body just enough to intercept the arm in mid-air, gripping it tightly and applying counter-pressure.

The sound of the joint giving way was sharp.

Without pausing, he pushed the man away, removing him from the path without even looking again.

The atmosphere finally stabilized.

Not because the threat had been contained—

But because there was no one left in a position to offer real resistance.

Ester stepped away from the table, lightly wiping her fingers on a nearby cloth, more out of habit than necessity. Her gaze swept across the rest of the room, checking if there was any other relevant activity being overlooked.

"There’s no central organization here," she continued, maintaining a technical tone. "This is an intermediate operational point. They receive, partially process, and distribute."

Damon walked to one of the open boxes at the back of the room, quickly glancing at its contents. Small bottles, simply packaged, ready for transport. He picked one up, observing it for a second before squeezing it in his hand.

The glass gave way.

The liquid trickled between his fingers.

He showed no reaction to the contact.

"So this doesn’t solve the source," he said.

Ester nodded. "No. But it cuts an active line."

Damon carelessly dropped the remaining broken glass on the floor. "That’s enough for now."

She tilted her head slightly. "And what about the others?"

He looked around.

Some were still conscious.

Others were not.

All unable to act.

"They’re not a priority," he replied.

Ester didn’t insist. She already expected that answer. Instead, she walked to the secondary door the man had tried to use, opening it slowly to check what was beyond. A narrow corridor, with no immediate movement, probably used for discreet internal transport.

"Alternative exit confirmed," she said.

Damon nodded slightly. "Memorize it."

She already was.

Silence returned to the room, but this time it wasn’t heavy with tension. It was the kind of silence that arises when a task has been completed without needing prolongation. The space was now just an empty place, devoid of function, incapable of sustaining the operation that had existed minutes before.

Damon looked around once more, not searching for details, but confirming the absence of remaining relevance.

"Burn?" Ester asked directly.

He thought for a second.

Short.

"No," he replied. "It draws unnecessary attention."

She agreed with a slight nod. "Then we render it useless and leave."

Damon was already moving again.

He began to flip tables, knock down structures, destroy what could still be used. Not chaotically, but systematically. Everything with an operational function was broken, rendered useless, or contaminated. Ester followed the process, focusing on the most technical points, ensuring that nothing there could be easily recovered.

The process took a few minutes.

Enough.

When they finished, the space no longer had any functional value. It was just a collection of remains incapable of sustaining any kind of production or distribution.

Ester looked around one last time. "Finished."

Damon didn’t answer.

He was already walking back to the main exit.

The bodies in the path were not avoided.

The signs of confrontation were not hidden.

Nothing there needed to be disguised.

When they reached the main area of ​​the building again, the environment was practically empty. The few who remained kept their distance, avoiding eye contact, avoiding any movement that might attract attention.

Damon passed by them without even looking.

Ester followed him at the same pace.

As they crossed the exit door, the contrast with the outside was immediate. The sound of the street, the constant movement, the appearance of normality that continued despite what had happened inside.

Neither of them commented.

They simply continued walking.

After a few steps, Ester spoke again, without changing her tone.

"One of three."

Damon nodded.

"Yes."

She glanced at him slightly. "Going straight to the next one?"

He didn’t answer immediately.

But the silence—

was already answer enough.

And they continued...

The way back wasn’t marked by haste, but neither were there any unnecessary detours or pauses. Damon and Ester left the district as they had entered, without announcing their presence, without looking back, without worrying about what remained. What needed to be done at that specific point had already been resolved, and insisting there would no longer yield results. The city continued to function around them as if nothing had happened, and that was exactly what was expected. Operations like that only had value while they went unnoticed.

Ester kept pace beside him, without trying to start an immediate conversation. She knew that Damon was already planning the next steps, connecting what they had seen with what still needed to be resolved. Still, after a few minutes of walking in silence, she spoke, not out of doubt, but for alignment.

"The structure was too clean to be improvised," she commented, keeping her gaze ahead. "It’s been working for a while now."

Damon nodded slightly, without changing his expression. "Yes. It wasn’t a new point."

She continued, organizing her thoughts as she spoke. "So that means the other two points probably follow the same pattern. Active distribution, partial production, little centralization."

Damon looked away for a moment, analyzing the street flow before answering. "Or one of them scales more."

Ester agreed with a slight nod. "Possible. Usually there’s a more heavily loaded point to support the others."

The silence returned, but this time it was shorter, more functional. They weren’t discussing possibilities out of curiosity; they were adjusting expectations. Each detail observed reduced the margin of error for the next steps.

As they approached the area closest to Morgana’s mansion, the atmosphere noticeably changed. Less noise, less movement, more control. There was no need for visible surveillance, but the sense of defined territory was clear to anyone paying attention.

Damon didn’t slow down as he approached the entrance.

He simply entered.

The door opened before any announcement, as if his presence was enough to anticipate the movement. Inside, the atmosphere was organized as always, without signs of urgency or external tension. The difference between the controlled chaos of the black market and the stability of the mansion was evident.

Morgana was in the main room.

Seated.

Relaxed posture.

But her gaze—

Attentive.

Elizabeth was also present, leaning against the window, while Aria efficiently arranged some objects on a side table. Ingrivid remained near the inner entrance, guarding the scene, while Ester took a few steps ahead of Damon as they entered.

Everyone looked.

Not out of surprise—

But out of confirmation of the return.

Morgana was the first to speak.

"They took long enough that it wasn’t trivial," she said calmly, crossing one leg over the other. "And fast enough that it wasn’t a problem."

Damon stopped a few steps ahead.

Without formality.

"Point confirmed," he said directly. "Active distribution with partial production."

The room fell silent immediately, not for lack of reaction, but for total attention.

Ester added without hesitation. "Functional structure, but not centralized. Receiving, light processing, and output. Nothing that indicates direct command."

Elizabeth looked away from the window, interested. "So it’s a decentralized network," she commented. "It’s avoiding concentrating risk."

Damon nodded. "Yes."

Morgana rested her chin on her hand, thoughtful. "And you closed the point?"

Ester answered this time. "Completely unusable. No chance of a quick recovery."

Aria, who had remained silent until then, raised her gaze slightly. "Without drawing outside attention?"

"No need for escalation," Ester replied. "It was contained."

Morgana let out a slight sigh, more of assessment than relief. "Good. That prevents premature movement."

Elizabeth took a small step forward, now completely facing them. "How many are still missing?"

"Two," Damon replied bluntly.

Ingrivid, who had only been observing until then, spoke for the first time. "And the origin remains unknown?"

Ester nodded. "Nothing at that point indicated centralization. It was just a knot."

Morgana uncrossed her legs, adjusting her posture slightly. "So we are still blind to the core."

Damon crossed his arms in a relaxed manner, but his presence remained heavy. "For now."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes slightly. "That means destroying the points doesn’t solve the problem."

Damon looked directly at her. "It solves part of it."

She held his gaze for a second before nodding. "It reduces the range."

"And forces movement," Ester added.

Morgana smiled slightly, almost imperceptibly. "And movement generates error."

The silence that followed was different from the previous ones. It wasn’t just analysis—it was strategic alignment. Everyone there understood exactly what that meant. They weren’t just reacting, they were pressing.

Aria went back to organizing the table, but spoke while working. "If they destroy the three points, she’ll have to expose something bigger to continue."

Damon nodded slightly. "That’s the goal."

Ingrivid tilted his head. "And if she doesn’t expose it?"

Elizabeth answered before him. "She exposes it," she said with cold conviction. "Because it’s not optional for her. It’s become a structured operation."

Morgana leaned back in her chair, observing everyone. "So you’re going to continue."

It wasn’t a question.

Damon answered anyway.

"Yes."

Esther crossed her arms again. "No pause."

Morgana nodded slowly, accepting the decision without trying to interfere. "Then don’t waste any time."

Elizabeth looked out the window again, but her attention clearly remained on the conversation. "When you find the main point—" she began, but didn’t finish the sentence.

Damon completed.

"It ends."

Simple.

Direct.

No room for interpretation.

The room fell silent for a few more seconds, each one absorbing the weight of what was being built there. It wasn’t just an operation against drug distribution. It was a direct confrontation with the Duchess’s structure.

And everyone knew—

This was still the beginning.

Morgana then spoke again, breaking the silence with controlled naturalness. "There’s food in the kitchen," she said, as if changing the subject, but not really. "You must need it."

Esther let out a small sigh. "I’ve been wanting to hear that for an hour."

Aria glanced at her. "It was already ready."