Charles leaned back, swirling golden wine in his goblet with a crooked grin.
"Now," he said, dragging out the moment, "we come to the backbone of illusions, sovereign of spatial geometry, the guardian of explosive hexagons… Array Lord Alvin."
Alvin arched a brow. "Catchy. Do I get a hat?"
"No," Charles said, flicking a ring. "But you get top-tier geometry and enough gold to make your math teachers cry."
The ring spun around and landed in Alvin's hand with a hum, as if it were whispering plans. A projection of moving circles, glyphs, and lattices in violet, silver, and red flickered above.
"Inside," Charles said, pointing to the flickering matrix, "you'll find ten master-grade array scrolls, each with a SIGMA-encrypted schematic core in it. Just to remind you, arrays are magical shapes that are written down for different purposes, schematic cores are the plans that are built into the scrolls, and SIGMA encryption is the best way to keep magic safe."
He continued, "Triple-weave sigil threads are three parallel magical lines that are woven together to make them stronger. Resonance-bound rune matrices are complicated symbols that are linked so that their magic makes each other stronger. Adaptive leyline syncing lets the array automatically adjust to local magical energy currents."
Alvin's eyes widened. "These are… are these Echelon-Tier Combat Barrier schematics?"
"And more," Charles said. "Mana Nest anchors to amplify flow, domes that hide a hall from scans, stealth grids that phase through light. Hide a guild headquarters in a broom closet with those."
Alvin held the ring like it might detonate in his hand—or worse, make him famous.
"Alongside that," Charles continued slyly, "ten million gold coins for materials, stones, and recruitment. I want three elite array teams under you by next week, each including a spatial theory specialist who doesn't drool on enchantment chalk."
Alvin snorted. "I already have names."
"Good. Poach aggressively," Charles said. "And one million signing bonus, no questions. Bribe a judge, buy a miniature airship, enchant your bathtub—have fun."
"Done," Alvin said immediately. "I accept."
But of course, Charles had more up his sleeve.
He leaned forward, voice dropping just enough to catch the attention of the whole table.
"And one more task, Array Lord," he said, a glint of mischief concealed behind gravity. "Critical to all operations in Velmora."
Alvin blinked. "There's more?"
"You'll be establishing the Internal Arcane Security Division for all our business structures. That covers surveillance arrays, silent ward traps, energy signature scanners, anti-eavesdropping charms, and full enchantment layering across Tre Sorelle franchises, SIGMA AeterPharmaceuticals labs, the teleportation hub, the mall, the vault warehouse, and the amusement park."
"Oh, just that?" Alvin said, laughing nervously.
"You forgot the moon temple and the underwater wine cellar."
"That's phase two," Charles said seriously.
He gestured to the ring again.
"SIGMA preloaded the ring with Velmora leyline schematics, overlays, and real estate plots. Once Anton secures a spot, lace it with protections before construction."
Alvin nodded slowly. "What about personnel?"
"Recruit a security-aligned support group—a techno-arcane division, the Sigil Guard. They'll audit arrays, manage magical CCTVs, and monitor integrity."
Alvin's expression turned thoughtful. "You want full control of magical flow and structural energy… like we're building a city immune to sabotage."
"Exactly," Charles replied, smiling slyly. "We're not just building businesses—let others play chess. We control the board."
The table fell quiet.
Alvin slipped the ring onto his finger.
A ripple of runes shimmered across his palm like a coded promise.
"You know," he said, lighter now, "I dreamed of opening a shop with array lanterns and enchanted games."
Charles raised a brow. "You still can. Just do it by the surveillance tower and business district."
"Right," Alvin grinned. "Work-life balance."
Geo leaned over, peeking at Alvin's projection. "Can one of those arrays detect when someone's lying?"
"Only if you want it to scream 'LIAR' in sigils," Alvin said.
Geo gasped. "Do it."
Charles laughed and lifted his glass again.
"To the array genius with strange hobbies and our infrastructure genius. May your scrolls never come undone."
Alvin raised his own goblet and lightly tapped it against Charles's.
"And may your crazy plans come with disaster insurance that matches them."
[Already included,] SIGMA said. [Clause 7B: If the city blows up, the team gets titles after they die.]
The dome of illusion almost broke from laughter.
Then Charles turned to the youngest among them—the boy with ink-stained fingers, a satchel full of half-melted herbs, and eyes wide enough to catch galaxies.
"Geo," he said softly, but with unmistakable weight.
The apprentice blinked and straightened up like he was about to be knighted—or scolded for blowing up a teapot.
Charles reached into the air and summoned a storage ring unlike the others—sleek silver alloy inscribed with glowing, swirling runes in a playful, childlike script that danced between alchemical symbols and bouncing frogs.
The ring floated to Geo's trembling hand as if it had chosen its master.
"Inside," Charles said, "you'll find the Emberbloom Cauldron. Epic-grade, dragon-scaled. It's bound to life and water affinity, reinforced with memory-rune circuitry and enchanted with autonomous temperature regulation."
Geo's jaw dropped. "A cauldron that… thinks?"
"It doesn't just think," Charles replied.
"It nags, reminds you of boiling points, and tells you when your ratios are stupid. Like an angry librarian with steam vents."
The table chuckled. Geo giggled nervously, cupping the ring like it was holy.
"There's more," Charles continued.
"A ten-volume encyclopedia set—Alchemy, Herbology, Pill Forging, Chemistry, and my favorite: 'Don't Mix These or Die: A Beginner's Guide.' All embedded with SIGMA's learning enchantments. You'll get interactive quizzes, guided practice sessions, and pop-up alerts if you try to invent napalm by accident."
Geo looked like he might cry. "I… I don't know what to say."
Charles waved him off. "Don't get emotional. There's also 500,000 gold coins—tuition, your own underground workspace, and whatever you need for your beginner explosions."
Geo gawked. "That's more than my entire village's worth…"
"You're not in a village anymore," Charles said, tone gentle with a smirk. "You're in an empire. And every empire needs its genius lunatic brewing miracles in a vat."
Geo stared at the ring as if it pulsed with destiny.
"But I'm still learning," he whispered. "Still growing…"
Charles sipped his crimson twilight cocktail, rim dusted with spirit-salt and soulfruit.
"Exactly," he said. "Which is why this ring isn't your final one."
Geo looked up, eyes round as full moons.
Charles continued, "Once you're officially trained and reach the age of sixteen, you'll be promoted as a full alchemist under the SIGMA AeterPharmaceuticals banner. You'll receive a second ring, a 1,000,000 gold coin sign-in bonus, and your own micro-division to manage—research, forge, experiment, and innovate however you see fit."
The boy almost let go of his glass.
"My own division?"
"Staff, lab, and junior assistants," Charles said without much thought.
"You'll choose the name of the group, the uniforms, and even the logo. Make it something silly. I like branding."
Geo's face lit up with the kind of happiness that comes from fireworks and festival pies. "Can it have a frog as a mascot?"
Charles smirked and said, "It would be a crime if it didn't. We'll name it 'Division Hopocalypse."
The table burst into laughter.
Diana gave Geo a gentle squeeze on the shoulder, her voice warm. "You're going to change the world, little genius."
"I'll make you proud!" Geo declared, holding his ring above his head like it was Excalibur.
Charles slow-clapped, finishing his drink.
"You'll make me profit," he said dryly. "But pride's a nice bonus."
The boy beamed so hard, even SIGMA's rune in the corner of the chamber flickered in amusement.
And in that moment, between enchanted cauldrons and childhood dreams given form, a future legend was born—an alchemist with silver in his hand, stars in his eyes, and enough funding to accidentally blow up the moon.
And now, the heavy artillery.
"Rob. Wendy. Borris."
Charles snapped his fingers. Three black-gold spatial rings shimmered, hovering over the table. Each pulsed with power, etched in runes of loyalty, secrecy, and ambition.
He held them between his fingers, then let them fall—clink, clink, clink—onto the velvet-draped table.
"To my trinity of beautiful, terrifying chaos," he said with a sardonic smile. "Wendy. Borris. Rob. Step forward."
Wendy moved first—fluid and quiet, like a breeze before the blade. Charles tossed her the first ring.
He said, "To Wendy, Commander of the Shadow Blades," his voice lower now and full of purpose.
"This will be the start of your guild of assassins, who will be hidden in plain sight and trained in windstep, dagger arts, and silence itself."
She caught the ring with one hand. A silver flash caught her eye.
"Inside," Charles went on, "you'll find ten Forged Dagger Sets of the Silent Tempest. These are mythical-grade weapons with wind affinity. Every blade has magic that changes the edge, spells that pierce cloaks, and spells that sync with the elements. There are also seven enchanted cloaks made of Shadebeast silk that can't be found by detection arrays or mage scanning."
[Don't forget the elixirs,] SIGMA said, its voice only heard by them.
"Special formulation: silent breath, blood-slicker, muscle relaxants, and nerve delay inhibitors." The best assassin kit.
Charles smiled and said, "Also included are blueprints for your first hideout. Hidden base under Velmora's Western Quarter. It has escape tunnels, training rooms, and a greenhouse for poison. Oh, and ten million gold coins. Use them to get your blades to join you, bribe some tavern owners, and then disappear from the map."
Wendy's fingers tightened around the ring. "This is a murder starter pack."
"Correction," Charles said, smirking. "This is a legacy starter pack. Murder is just the brand."
Next, Borris lumbered forward. Stoic. Broad-shouldered. His armor creaked, but his gaze was sharp—a seasoned soldier, but not yet the shadow he was about to become.
Charles flipped him the second ring.
"To Borris, Interim Director of the Shadow Watchers," he declared. "You're going to build me a network that sees everything, hears everything, and forgets nothing."
Borris snorted. "Spying and rumor-mongering. My specialty."
"Inside your ring," Charles said, leaning in, "you'll find over a dozen invisibility enchantments for cloaks, twelve whisper rune stones that can transmit spoken intel across miles, and two dozen eavesdropper totems—each disguised as innocuous decor: books, candleholders, shoelaces, you name it."
SIGMA added, "You'll also have three portable bribe kits—preloaded with gold chips, noble wine vouchers, and vouchers for Tre Sorelle's lesser-known… culinary services."
Charles said happily, "Oh, and don't forget the hover-drake."
"A present from me. Stealth class. About the same size as a big hawk. Rides the wind and comes with a charm that makes it silent in one direction. Give him a name that is silly."
Borris raised an eyebrow. "Stealthy lizard with wings. I understand."
"Also inside are detailed maps of every noble district in Velmora, coded supply ledgers from the city guards, and enough dark-market contacts to start your own rumor war. Ten million gold coins. Make me a web of whispers and stay out of sight."
"Insane," Borris muttered, already slipping the ring into his belt pouch.
"Richly so," Charles replied. "Paranoia is a growth market."
Finally, Rob stepped forward, tall and slightly wild-eyed. The wind tugged at his cloak like it recognized kin.
"For you, Rob," Charles said, lifting the last ring with reverence, "Leader of the Shadowmane Sanctum."
He flipped the ring into the air. Rob caught it with both hands, as if afraid it might roar.
"Inside: three signed contracts for legendary beast tamers—unemployed, exiled, or waiting for a cause worthy of their roars. Maps to three unclaimed high-tier magibeast nests: one in the Embervine Wastes, another in the Sapphire Cliffs, and a third under Velmora's abandoned sewer domes. All yours to secure and convert into sanctuaries or warbeast stables."
SIGMA added, [The Tempest Saddles within are coded for aerial and terrestrial fusion types. Each adapts to beast anatomy with minimal binding trauma.]
"There's also a combat bonding scroll for storm-linked tames, a lightning-resistant training set, and licenses to operate three airships registered under alias companies controlled by House Damaris."
Rob opened the ring and gasped. "Is that… is that a living contract for a Cloudhorn Dire Elk?!"
"And a stealth gorilla," Charles replied. "Silent fists. Nightwalking. Cloak-wearing. The works."
Rob grinned like a child on his birthday. "You are the best cult leader I've ever had."
"Stop flattering me," Charles said, flipping his hair with theatrical arrogance. "Or I'll promote you."
"And the ten million?" Rob asked.
"To build your headquarters, train new tamers, host auctions, maybe breed a flying war-rhino. Surprise me."