Ali watched Fiona leave the office. That bullshit story should keep her satisfied until I leave this world, he thought coldly.
"Girls, we have an hour," Ali said, glancing at the elves beside him. "Let's have some fun."
He smirked. Both women shuddered, already knowing what he meant. Their bodies were still recovering from the night before, yet Ali walked around as if none of it had ever happened.
His hand went to his coat, ready to remove it—then suddenly his right arm started trembling violently. He gritted his teeth, clenching his wrist with his other hand. His eyes hardened as he turned his back on the women, hiding the spasms from their view.
"Master? Are you okay?" Eryndis asked softly. She stepped forward and laid her hand on his back—only to yank it away with a gasp when a sharp current zapped her. Ali's chemical balance was in chaos, his cells supercharging to resist an electricity that wasn't there. It was another aftereffect of his fight with Mateo, one he'd yet to resolve.
"I'm fine," Ali muttered. He flexed his right hand until the shaking stopped, then turned back as if nothing had happened.
One hour later…
Ali opened the door of his office. The scent of sweat and sex spilled into the corridor. Behind him, Eryndis and Kaelyra lay unconscious and naked on the floor, their grey skin flushed crimson, twitching faintly even after their orgasms had long ended. Their bodies were drenched in his seed, his marks all over them.
Ali shut the door behind him and found the old maid standing in the corridor. Her face was scarlet as she stared at the ground, not daring to raise her eyes.
"Nobody enters my office until I say so," Ali commanded as he strode past without waiting for her reply.
In the meeting hall, Fiona had gathered the ten young merchants promoted to replace the older generation executed under Ali's orders. They sat nervously along both sides of the great table. The demi-human elder occupied a seat among them, Oliver at his side. At the far end, the throne awaited Ali. Fiona sat opposite it, poised, her face unreadable.
The room stiffened when the doors opened.
"His Lordship, Baron Ali!" a guard announced.
Everyone immediately stood. Ali entered, his dragon coat sweeping the floor, his gaze sharp as a blade. He lowered himself into the throne, and with a wave of his hand, the assembly sat.
"Start," Ali said.
Fiona inclined her head. "In your absence, we concluded negotiations with the delegation from IronPeak. They were simple… and very profitable. The merchants there cannot survive even a few days without ore. We renegotiated every deal heavily in our favour—the previous terms were outright robbery."
She handed him the contracts. Ali didn't bother to read them.
Oliver spoke next, his tone formal. "We've begun introducing goods from our demi-human allies. They're already popular in Obidos and command high margins in IronPeak as well."
Fiona said nothing, not even sparing the elder a glance. He noticed. The elder silently made a note to report it to his people—Ali's first advisor and second-in-command clearly despised them. That was dangerous.
The meeting dragged on for half an hour. Economic reports were presented and approved, trade agreements signed, apprenticeships and construction contracts secured. When it concluded, Ali ordered everyone out—the merchants, the elder, even Oliver. Most left with smiles; the demi-humans had secured significant new business.
The doors opened again. This time Fainter and four of the five mercenaries strolled inside. They sat casually where the merchants had been, only closer to Ali's throne.
"You said you'd fight us every week," Thorgar rumbled, his axe tapping against his chair.
"We fight after this," Ali replied coolly.
The barbarian grinned, leaning back with satisfaction.
"Fiona," Ali said, "what news from Rook?"
"He's established himself in the city," she answered. "Yesterday, Viscount Morret returned with his bastard son and knights. The merchants are filling his advisor's coffers with gold to push for war against us. Rook also reported that the Viscount summoned the city's major powers to meet with him first."
The room tensed. Even Thorgar, who pretended disinterest, was listening closely.
"Ali," Fiona said gravely, "Viscount Morret is a Fifth-Level Aura Knight. Known as the Sword of the Duke's Firstborn. He's the one winning every campaign for the Count, who supports the Duke's heir in his struggle against the second son."
"Any attack on him," Keith added, "will be seen as you choosing the second son's side. The Count will retaliate with full force—high-circle mages, platinum-ranked adventurers included."
"Rank Five Aura is another level entirely," Elden said calmly, his eyes still closed. "Fourth Level brings a modest burst of speed and strength… but the real power is in the offensive leap it grants a knight."
"But Fifth…" Cassian spoke now, his voice grim. "Fifth Level Aura births armour. Your aura solidifies, wrapping you in a protective shell. It makes a knight nearly invincible to those below their tier, resistant even to catastrophic magical attacks, all while vastly increasing speed and strength."
He remembered vividly—the sight of his father's aura cloak soaring above a battlefield littered with torn corpses.
Ali stood, his cold gaze sweeping over them. "Anyone else?"
Thorgar raised his hands innocently. "Nothing from me."
Ali turned toward the vast window. Abeloth soared through the clouds, a red shadow above the town.
"It's irritating," Ali said, his voice dropping into steel. "You keep warning me of their strength… as if you know the true extent of mine."
The atmosphere shifted instantly. Pressure crashed down upon the room, suffocating. Every man at the table felt it—every breath heavier than the last. All except Fiona, whom Ali spared from his weight.
When he turned back, his eyes were no longer human. Cosmic silver blazed in place of pupils, draconic power burning through them. Dragon's eyes—ancient, terrible, all-seeing.
He looked through their bodies as if they were glass. He saw the flow of aura within them, the speed of its current, the strength of its force, the exact paths it carved through their bodies. Nothing was hidden.
"If I wished, I could wipe out IronPeak and everyone within it tonight," Ali said, his tone so absolute it was terrifying. It was not boast—it was declaration.
'All this time you've only seen me fight in the open', Ali thought, his eyes fading back to black. 'Because I find it fun. But if I ever walk the path of an assassin again…', this wasn't just for them but for every world, he's yet to go all in on his unmatched skill of killing from the shadows.
He let the thought trail off as the burning silver dimmed, leaving silence in its place.
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