The act of pretending to be friends continued at the next meeting, held in a fancy, smoke-filled lounge at the top of a casino. The King of Chaos stood by the bar with a drink when Vox walked up. The blue light from Vox's screen head shined in the dark room.
"King of chaos!" Vox said loudly. Floating screens appeared around him, showing numbers and camera feeds. "You're growing fast. My data shows way more chaos in your area lately. We could sell that. We could film the madness and put it on TV. People would love it."
Suddenly, the room felt heavy and smelled like old dust. Zestial walked over slowly. His voice sounded like dry paper. "You only talk about money and noise, Vox," he said. "A kingdom built on flashy shows is like a house of glass—it breaks easily." He looked at the king of chaos with his glowing eyes. "Real power isn't about making noise; it's about the silence you can command."
Rosie walked in, laughing softly and holding her umbrella. "Don't mind him, dear, he's just old-fashioned," she said with a sharp smile. "But he's right about one thing. All that flashing light is a bit messy." She looked at the chaos with interest. "It's about style! Anyone can start a fight, but a real artist makes it look beautiful. I hope your next party has something… tastier to offer."
She glanced between the new overlord and Alastor, who had suddenly appeared at his side, looking like she was deciding who to eat first.
Carmilla Carmine stepped forward, her metal heels clicking sharply on the floor. She kept her expression like stone. To the others, she looked like a cold weapon dealer, but for a split second, her eyes searched Vane's with a hidden warmth.
"Enough daydreaming," Carmilla said, her voice firm. "Vane, Vox wants to sell your work, and Rosie wants to dress it up, but I care about the cost. Chaos is messy. Messy leads to mistakes. If you're going to start a fire, make sure you have the weapons to back it up."
She stepped closer, her hand brushing against his arm—a brief touch that looked like a warning to the others, but felt like a caress to him.
From the sofa, Velvette rolled her eyes. "Ugh, you guys are so boring. Zestial is talking about 'foundations' and Carmilla is acting like your boss. Boring! Vane, honey, listen to me: nobody cares about 'quiet power' anymore. If it's not trending, it didn't happen. Just look good while you're breaking things."
Vane looked around the circle. He could feel Carmilla's protection, even as she pretended to lecture him in front of their rivals.
• Vox saw a product.
• Rosie saw a show.
• Alastor saw a toy.
• But Carmilla... Carmilla saw him.
Alastor leaned in toward Vane's ear, his grin widening. "A lovely crowd, isn't it, Vane? Everyone is wearing a mask today. Some are just better at hiding what's underneath than others." Alastor's eyes flickered toward Carmilla, a hint of static humming in the air. He definitely suspected something.
Vane stood at the center of the circle, his expression calm and unreadable. He knew exactly what Carmilla was doing—she was playing the part of the stern arms dealer to protect their secret. He appreciated her caution, but he wasn't just a partner; he was an Overlord who knew how to play the game better than most.
He took a slow sip of his drink and looked at the group. Behind Vox and Rosie, several minor Overlords—figures with heads like rusted clocks or flickering neon signs—watched from the shadows, waiting to see if Vane would fold.
"You all talk about my chaos like it's a wild animal," Vane said, his voice smooth and steady. "But chaos is just a market that hasn't been organized yet."
He turned to Vox. "I'll give you the broadcast rights to the 'entertainment' in the south sector, Vox. But I want a twenty percent stake in your new network's infrastructure. My lands, your signal. We both get richer."
Vox paused, his screen flickering as he ran the numbers. "Twenty percent is steep, Vane."
"So is the cost of not having my content," Vane countered with a sharp smile. Vox went quiet, clearly considering the deal.
Vane then looked at Zestial and Carmilla. "And as for the 'foundation,' I agree. Power without stability is just a loud death." He looked Carmilla dead in the eye, his gaze professional but intense. "Carmilla, I want to sign a contract for your latest grade of steel. My 'messy' chaos will be backed by your refined weapons. We'll call it a joint security venture. It keeps the streets quiet when we want them quiet, and loud when we don't."
Carmilla tilted her head, her eyes narrowing in a way that looked like business calculation to the others, but Vane saw the pride hiding behind it. "A strategic move," she said softly. "I accept the terms for a trial period."
Finally, Vane looked at the minor Overlords in the back. "For the rest of you, my doors are open for trade—as long as you bring something useful to the table. I don't make deals for the sake of making noise. I make them to win."
The room went silent. Even Alastor's static dimmed for a moment. They realized Vane wasn't just some lucky newcomer; he was a strategist who knew when to strike and when to wait. He had turned a room full of predators into a board of directors.
"Well played, Vane," Rosie chirped, her smile becoming a bit more respectful. "A man with a plan. How refreshing!"
As the meeting began to break up into smaller groups, Vane felt a brief, heavy pressure on his shoulder. It was Carmilla walking past him. "Don't let the success go to your head," she whispered, her voice cold for the audience, but her fingers lingered on his coat for just a second too long.
When the gathering was over everybody left but him and and someone else
the sound muffled by thick velvet curtains and the hum of a high-end security system. The "performance" was finally over.
Vane didn't even wait to set his glass down before he felt the atmosphere shift. The cold, professional distance of the meeting evaporated. Carmilla leaned back against the mahogany door, her rigid posture melting into something softer, though her eyes still held that sharp, intelligent spark.
"You took a big risk out there, Vane," she said, her voice dropping the icy edge she used for the other Overlords. She walked toward him, her metal heels silent on the plush rug. "Demanding twenty percent from Vox? You're lucky he didn't try to short-circuit the whole building."
Vane set his glass on the desk and turned to her, a confident smirk playing on his lips. "Vox is a businessman, Carmilla. He knows a good deal even when it hurts his pride. Besides," he stepped closer, closing the gap between them, "I knew I had the best protection in Hell backing me up."
Carmilla reached out, her gloved hand resting firmly against his chest. "Don't get cocky. I played along because your plan was solid, not just because I'm fond of you." She pulled him slightly closer, her voice turning into a low, dangerous purr. "But you handled them well. Even Zestial seemed... impressed. That isn't easy to do."
"I learned from the best," Vane murmured. He placed his hands on her waist, pulling her into the private light of the office. Out there, they were rivals and cold partners. In here, the power struggle was different—it was a dance they both knew how to win.
"The 'joint security venture'?" she asked, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through her mask. "That was a clever way to make sure we have an excuse to see each other every day."
"I told you," Vane said, leaning down so his forehead rested against hers. "I don't make deals unless they benefit me. And right now? This is the only benefit I care about."
The silence in the office wasn't the heavy, threatening kind from the meeting. It was quiet, private, and entirely theirs. For a moment, the chaos of Hell didn't matter.