"So, gentlen. What are you going to do?"
The question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, reinforced by the twin pressures of Shadow Mana and Golden Aura.
Barnaby and Cipher stared at the silver-haired boy sitting at the head of the table.
The revelation that their mysterious "Boss" was actually the heir to the treasonous, world-shaking Voss Family hit them like a physical blow.
Cipher, the spy, was the first to recover. A flicker of understanding passed through his sharp eyes.
"The ’King of Darkness’ Theron Voss... The ’Empress of Deceit’ Elizabeth... No wonder," Cipher muttered, looking at Damien’s glowing blue eyes.
"No wonder a child has such monstrous power. You aren’t a prodigy. You’re a legacy."
"A legacy with a 10 million gold bounty," Barnaby squeaked, wiping sweat from his forehead with a silk handkerchief.
"Boss... if the Empire finds out we’re sheltering a Voss... they won’t just hang us. They’ll peel us."
"High risk," Damien said calmly, tapping the table. "High reward."
He reached into his Void Gem.
"You two have served well on faith alone. You built this guild. You gathered intelligence. You proved your competence."
He placed two shimring blue Contract Gems on the table. They pulsed with a rhythmic light, echoing Damien’s heartbeat.
"But faith isn’t enough for where we are going. The path ahead involves fighting Empires, Gods, and Demons. I cannot afford betrayal."
Damien pushed the gems forward.
"Eat. Bind your souls to mine. In exchange, I will give you power, wealth, and a seat at the table of the new world. Refuse... and you walk out that door with nothing."
’Or die,’ Damien added silently, his shadow mana tightening around the room. He liked them, but he wasn’t naive. He couldn’t leave loose ends.
Barnaby looked at the gem. He looked at Leona standing behind Damien, radiating the terrifying pressure of her Berserk Aura. He looked at the mountains of gold crates in his warehouse.
Greed warred with fear. Greed won.
"To hell with it," Barnaby grabbed the gem. "I was a slave six months ago. Now I own a castle. I’m all in, Boss."
He swallowed it.
Cipher didn’t hesitate. "I have lived in the shadows my whole life. Serving the King of Shadows seems fitting."
He swallowed his gem.
Thump-thump.
The mont the gems dissolved in their stomachs, the reaction was instantaneous.
"Guh!" Barnaby doubled over, clutching his stomach, his face turning a sickly shade of pale. "It... it burns!"
Cipher fell to one knee, his teeth gritted so hard his jaw popped. "My soul... it feels like it’s being rewritten!"
Veins bulged on their foreheads as the contract took hold, forcibly expanding their potential and binding their lifelines to Damien.
At the sa ti, Damien felt the backlash.
"Argh!"
He gritted his teeth, his hands gripping the edge of the table until the wood cracked. It felt like two hot iron hooks were being driven into his mind, dragging new information into his soul.
But then, just as the pain peaked, it vanished.
Whoosh.
A cool, refreshing sensation washed over his soul, soothing the tears instantly.
[System Alert!]
[Soul Grafting in Progress...]
[Slots Consud: 2. Remaining Slots: 2.]
[Acquired Ability: Golden Abacus (Barnaby) - Calculating...]
[Acquired Ability: Shadow Weave (Cipher) - Calculating...]
[Integration Successful.]
Damien blinked, surprised. He looked at the tir in his mind.
’That was fast. Too fast.’
’With Isabelle and Leona, the integration took hours of agony. This minutes seconds. And the pain faded almost instantly.’
He clenched his fist, feeling the new vitality coursing through his veins.
’The Celestial Life Physique,’ Damien realized, his eyes widening.
’It doesn’t just heal my body; it heals my soul. It’s accelerating the grafting process and dampening the backlash. With this physique, I don’t almost pass out like before.’
He then looked at his subordinates. Barnaby and Cipher were panting heavily, soaked in sweat, but the pain had passed for them, too. They looked up, their eyes clearer, sharper.
"Boss?" Barnaby asked, his voice trembling but filled with awe.
"I... I can see numbers. Everywhere. Profit margins. Risks. It’s like the world is a ledger."
"And I," Cipher whispered, looking at his hands which seed to flicker in the dim light. "I am no longer just hiding in the dark. I am part of it."
"Good," Damien straightened up, his eyes flashing with a mix of gold and black. "Those are your gifts. Use them well."
"Now," Damien said, his voice steady. "Let’s talk business."
He pulled a stack of blueprints from his Void Gem and slamd them onto the table. These weren’t magical tos. They were sketches Damien had drawn from his mories of Blue Star.
"The Golden Coin Guild is a good start," Damien said.
"But selling grain and ore is peasant work. If we want to rule the economy, we need to sell Culture."
He pointed to the first sketch. It depicted a sleek, form-fitting dress with a slit up the thigh, made of silk and lace. Next to it were designs for modern-style lingerie.
"Fashion," Damien declared.
"The nobles of the Empire are bored. They wear heavy, stifling velvet. We are going to sell them elegance. We are going to sell them desire."
Barnaby picked up the sketch, his eyes widening as his new [Golden Abacus] ability instantly calculated the potential revenue.
"This... this is scandalous. The Church will hate it. But the profit margins... astronomical."
"The wives of the Dukes will love it," Damien smirked. "And what the wives love, the Dukes pay for."
He pointed to the second sketch. It was a design for a "mory Crystal Projector" basically, a movie theater.
"Entertainnt," Damien continued.
"We aren’t just selling clothes. We are going to sell stories. Plays that don’t need actors. Music that plays itself. We are going to make the ’Black Thread’ brand the most desired symbol on the continent."
He looked at Barnaby.
"I am going to the Dwarven Kingdom to secure the manufacturing technology. Your job is to create the demand. By the ti I get back, I want every noblewoman in the Dragon Empire dying to wear our label."
"I... I can do it, Boss," Barnaby stamred, his fear replaced by greed. "We’ll be richer than the Emperor."
"That’s the goal," Damien nodded.
WOOP! WOOP! WOOP!
Suddenly, a harsh, magical siren began to blare throughout the fortress. The red ergency lights flickered on.
"Alarm!" Leona roared, her gauntlets instantly materializing on her hands. "Enemy attack!"
Cipher’s face went pale. He touched the shadow on the floor, his eyes losing focus as he used his new [Shadow Weave] connection to scan the periter.
"It’s not a patrol," Cipher whispered, his voice tight with fear. "It’s... him."
"Who?" Damien asked, standing up.
"Baelor," Cipher hissed. "The Slaver King. He’s back. And he brought an army."
Damien walked to the window.
Outside, the night sky was lit up by hundreds of torches. A massive army of rcenaries and cultists had surrounded the fortress.
And standing at the front, radiating a terrifying 5th-Order Aura that shook the ground, was a man clad in dragon-bone armor, holding a massive war hamr.
"Asshole’s!" Baelor’s voice bood, amplified by magic. "I know you’re in there, you silver-haired rat! You stole my fortress! You killed my n! Co out, and I’ll make your death quick!"
Damien looked at the army. Then he looked at his team.
He smiled.
"Barnaby, pack the blueprints. Cipher, burn the ledgers."
"We’re leaving?" Isabelle asked, her hands igniting with fire. "We aren’t going to fight?"
"We can win," Damien said coldly. "But if we fight here, my new ’rchant Guild’ gets destroyed in the crossfire. I didn’t spend months planning this just to burn my own base down."
He threw his hood back up.
"We’re going to lead them away. We run South. Toward the Dwarves."
"Let’s see if the Slaver King can catch us."
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