The silence in the temporary command center was thick, cold, and absolute. The last audible sound was the sickening thump from the adjacent room—Garl, Rian's security, eliminated without a warning.
The air in the small, windowless space grew intensely cold, the temperature dropping with the unnatural speed of a magical anomaly. Rian looked up, his eyes meeting the shimmering, distorted reflection in the glass of the single, weak lamp.
A dark shadow detached itself from the ceiling vent. It wasn't a monster; it was a woman. She dropped lightly onto the rough floor, moving with the fluid, impossible grace of a creature made of pure night.
She was cloaked in heavy, luxurious black silk that seemed to absorb the light. Her face was partially obscured by a delicate, high-collared garment, revealing only a pair of chillingly beautiful, pale silver eyes that seemed to glow in the dim room. Her entire presence—the ease of her infiltration, the sheer cost of her garments—screamed high-tier professional.
Rian's mind, despite the cold knot of terror tightening in his gut, remained functional, immediately categorizing the threat. [INTERNAL WARNING: UNKNOWN HIGH-TIER ENTITY. THREAT RATING: CATASTROPHIC. PRIORITY: ENGAGE LETHALLY.]
The woman moved to the desk, ignoring Rian. She placed a small, silver-bound data slate onto the rough wood.
"The Earth Mage served her purpose, Mr. Thorne," the woman stated. Her voice was cool, cultured, and devoid of any regional accent—the sound of global power. "The Heartstone Amulet was a necessary decoy. The true objective was to trap your primary security asset and expose your command post."
"Who are you?" Rian demanded, his voice thin but steady. He hated operating without data. "And what is the price of this unscheduled meeting?"
The woman gave a faint, chilling smile. "I am the one offering the Hostile Bid, Mr. Thorne. I represent the true owner of the West Wall Vein. They require you to liquidate your interest—your entire domain—immediately. In exchange for your full cooperation, they will allow you to leave the Tower alive. That is the only price."
Rian's mind raced. This was no petty rival or Guild agent. This was organized, targeted corporate warfare from a source that knew his previous moves, his debt, and his methods. They knew his value, and they knew his weakness.
"You are asking me to give up the only thing I own and accept absolute ruin," Rian said, deliberately injecting a small spark of cynical humor into his voice. "That is not a bid. That is a death threat disguised as a bad deal. You assume I value survival over profit. You assume I would ever accept a Zero-Sum Outcome. I built my empire by never accepting Zero-Sum Outcomes."
He pulled up his Ledger. [VARYA STATUS: HIGH ALERT. COMMAND: INITIATE EMERGENCY PROTOCOL 7.]
"Varya," Rian whispered into his communication stone, his voice barely audible. "We have a hostile takeover in progress. Garl is down. Prepare the highest-mana pulse you can generate. Forget the tunnels. We're engaging here. Target: the West Wall Vein itself."
The Broker seemed amused. "Sending a desperate call to your R&D specialist? Quaint. She can't save you, little auditor. My passive ward is already interfering with local communications."
"You assumed I would engage in combat, Broker," Rian countered, his eyes locked on hers. "But you failed to account for my primary strategy: Diversification of Risk."
He smiled, a tight, grim expression. "You came here to take my property. I think you'll find that my property is now worthless to you."
Rian slapped the command desk hard. "Varya! Execute Protocol 7! Maximum Power!"
The effect was not a destructive blast, but a terrifying, deafening shriek of pure, overloaded mana that erupted from the West Wall Vein deep beneath the floor. The mana wasn't being channeled; it was being sucked out of the core of the newly tapped vein faster than the earth could supply it.
The Broker's composure finally broke. Her silver eyes widened in genuine alarm. "What did you do? The Vein's output—it's collapsing!"
"I don't defend my territory by fighting, Broker. I defend it by making it worthless," Rian explained, enjoying the look of pure financial horror on her face. "I just instructed Varya to initiate a forced Overdraw Protocol. She is pulling raw mana from the Tier 3 Vein faster than the earth can supply it. In less than sixty seconds, the Vein will collapse, become inert, and be chemically toxic for fifty years."
He pointed to the silver slate she had placed on the desk. "You wanted to buy my property? Congratulations. You just bought a toxic, worthless hole in the ground. The acquisition target is now a Negative Liability."
The Ledger metrics screamed in Rian's sight: [WEST WALL VEIN. STATUS: CATASTROPHIC DEPRECIATION. PROJECTED VALUE: 0 G.]
The Broker snarled, her cool demeanor dissolving into furious rage. She moved with impossible speed, pulling a needle-thin, obsidian dagger from her sleeve. She was aiming for Rian's throat.
"You destroyed millions in value, fool! I will kill you slowly!"
"The Hostile Bid is officially off the table, Broker!" Rian yelled, pushing himself backwards just as Varya's disruption pulse—a secondary effect of the massive energy draw—finally hit the ceiling.
The massive, immediate power draw from the West Wall Vein caused a massive Mana Depression in the command center's local area. The cheap, inadequate light fixture hanging from the ceiling—the only light source—overloaded and exploded with a blinding flash and a loud pop.
Rian was plunged into absolute, pitch-black darkness.
"Varya! Garl! Report!" Rian yelled into the stone, scrambling backward, desperately trying to put distance between himself and the lethal attacker.
The Broker cursed, the brief flash having momentarily blinded her high-tier vision. Rian heard the soft shush of her silk clothing moving rapidly toward the desk.
"Thorne, the Vein is collapsing! I have to stabilize the array! I'm out of power!" Varya screamed through the stone.
Then came a miracle—a deep, painful groan from the adjacent room. "The Golem... it just stunned me, My Lord. I'm moving. But I'm blind!" It was Garl, regaining consciousness.
"Garl! You are our eyes! The Broker is blind in this darkness! Get to the ventilation system! Seal the vents with your ax! We need to choke her out!" Rian commanded, his voice sharp and precise, using the darkness as his ultimate weapon.
He heard the scrape of steel as the Broker located the desk. She knew Rian was near.
"You cannot hide from me, Auditor! Your failure to acquire the Heartstone was your first mistake! Your second was destroying the only resource that could save you!" she hissed, her voice inches from Rian's hiding spot.
"Seraphina failed because the Heartstone was a decoy to draw out your money," Rian shot back, his mind working at lightning speed. He saw the opening. The Broker was focused on the desk.
He threw the coil of wire he was holding—the wire he'd used to break the prison lock—not at the Broker, but at the far wall. The dull, metallic sound drew her attention for a crucial half-second.
She spun, slashing the dagger at the sound.
Rian seized the moment, rolling hard under the desk, narrowly avoiding the lethal obsidian blade. He heard Garl's painful, labored breathing as the mercenary began crawling towards the vents, following Rian's last command.
Rian, flat on his back, pulled up the Ledger, using the minute light of the interface. He searched his inventory. He had one item left: a rusty, forgotten utility wrench he'd kept as a simple tool.
It will have to do. The ROI on this tool is about to be infinite.
The Broker found him, her hand gripping the desk edge. She brought the dagger down for a final, silent kill.
Rian didn't try to block the attack. He lashed out, not with the wrench, but with his left leg, delivering a painful, clumsy kick to her ankle.
The Broker staggered. It wasn't a strong attack, but it was enough to ruin her precision. The obsidian dagger slammed into the desk wood inches from Rian's head.
Rian swung the heavy utility wrench up in a desperate, wide arc, aiming for the only part of her he could see: the faint, white reflection of her face against the faint light of the Ledger.
He heard a wet crack and a sharp, pained cry. The wrench hit its target.
The Broker collapsed with a muffled thump, her cloak rustling on the dirty floor. The obsidian dagger clattered nearby.
Rian lay panting, the taste of ozone and fear thick in his mouth. He had survived the hostile bid with a piece of wire, a temporary economic suicide pact, and a blunt tool.
"Garl! Status report!" Rian gasped, pushing himself up, the cold adrenaline fading to nausea.
Garl's voice was rough, but triumphant. "Vents sealed, My Lord. The air is going to get heavy soon. You just knocked out a Tier Five assassin with a rusty pipe wrench. I'm charging triple for the cleanup."
Rian crawled over and grabbed the obsidian dagger. It was sharp, cold, and utterly lethal. His acquisition was complete, but the cost was staggering.
He checked the Ledger: [WEST WALL VEIN. STATUS: CATASTROPHIC. VALUATION: 10 G/DAY (Temporary - Fails in 48h).]
He had destroyed his capital to survive. Now he had a massive debt, a crippled security team, and a high-tier prisoner.
"Varya," Rian whispered into the stone, his voice regaining its cold, managerial composure. "Forget the Vein. We have a prisoner. You need to come back here now. We are initiating a hostile interrogation."
The first hint of sunrise filtered into the room through the cracks around the sealed vent. The Broker was bound tight, her hands secured behind her back with lengths of reinforced chain Rian had liberated from the storage room. She was stirring, a low, furious groan escaping her lips.
Varya arrived twenty minutes after the all-clear, scrambling through the backdoor, her face streaked with soot and worry. She took one look at Rian, sitting calmly behind the desk with the obsidian dagger in his hand, and then at the unconscious figure of the Broker.
"Lord Rian! You're alive! What happened? The Vein's readings went completely insane! It's barely holding together!" Varya gasped, rushing forward.
"I initiated Protocol 7. I threatened to destroy our capital to neutralize an existential threat," Rian explained simply. "The Vein is a temporary casualty. Varya, examine the prisoner. Garl, secure the area and patrol the roof. We cannot be found here."
Varya examined the Broker with wide, professional curiosity. "High-tier assassin, Lord Rian. Her armor is custom-made. That dagger is pure obsidian—Tier 5 quality. You hit her exactly where the jaw meets the hinge. A lucky, precise blow."
"There is no luck, Varya. Only data and physics," Rian countered. He looked at the Broker, who was starting to wake up, her silver eyes blazing with cold hatred.
"We have acquired a high-value data asset, Varya," Rian explained. "She knows who owns the West Wall Vein, and she knows why they want me gone. That information is worth more than the vein itself."
Rian leaned forward, placing the tip of the obsidian dagger on the desk, inches from the Broker's face. "Broker, we're going to dispense with the pleasantries. I need to know the name of your client. You have two options: Cooperation or Liquidation."
The Broker spat on the floor. "Go to hell, Auditor. My code is stronger than your pathetic threats. You destroyed your one chance at survival. Your debt is a leash around your neck. You will die slowly."
Rian sighed, pulling up the Ledger. [ASSET: BROKER. COOPERATION RATING: 0%. VALUATION: HIGH (DATA). STRATEGY: PSYCHOLOGICAL LEVERAGE.]
"Your loyalty to your client is admirable, Broker, but it is also a huge liability to your current situation," Rian said. "We don't need torture. We need to appeal to your sense of self-preservation. Varya, the analysis."
Varya, already working, provided the cold analysis. "Lord Rian, the Obsidian Dagger is worth approximately 150 Gold Marks on the black market. Her boots alone are worth 50 Gold Marks. Her silk cloak is custom-made by the Guild's most expensive tailor. Her life has enormous monetary value."
Rian looked at the Broker. "You represent enormous wealth, Broker. If you die here, your client loses millions in future revenue and gains nothing. I, however, gain immediate, necessary capital from selling your equipment. Your life is currently worth more to me dead than alive."
"You won't kill me," the Broker hissed. "You need the information."
"The information is worth 500 Gold Marks," Rian admitted. "Your equipment is worth 300 Gold Marks, which is pure profit. We can always interrogate a less stubborn asset later. Varya, you are our new Procurement Specialist. Begin cataloging the Broker's inventory. Garl, prepare to transport this liquidation package to the Gray Market."
The Broker's eyes widened, genuine fear replacing her professional hatred. They weren't threatening pain; they were threatening to turn her body into simple cash.
"Wait!" the Broker shouted, struggling against the chains. "Your domain is finished, Auditor! You destroyed your vein! You have six days! You will never pay the 1,500 Gold Marks!"
Rian smiled, a predatory expression that made him look older and far more dangerous than his weak body suggested. "That debt is a problem for the Baron, Broker. My problem is getting information. You have ten seconds to tell me who owns the West Wall Vein, or Varya starts removing your rings. I hear Tier 5 magic rings sell for quite a lot."
Mini Author's Note: Rian just survived by destroying his own income and now holds a high-tier assassin hostage. The only way out of debt is to force a confession. Chapter 10: The Confession.