Chapter 22 - 21: Victor Meets Silas
The grand archway of the Kross Merchant Estate glowed under the dim glare of streetlamps. Positioned in the upper district of Thaloris, the grounds were heavily guarded by seasoned mercenaries hired to secure the guild’s remaining assets.
Raymond dragged his bleeding, bruised body up the marble steps, his legs shaking uncontrollably. Behind him, Victor walked with rhythmic, unhurried steps, his dark coat swaying gently in the night breeze. Beside him, Aria moved like a silent shadow, her hands tucked neatly behind her back.
"S-Sir... this is the main estate," Raymond stammered, wiping blood from his swollen mouth. "Should I... should I take you through the side entrance?"
Victor didn’t even look at him. "Why would I creep through the back of a house like some low-class thief?"
Before Raymond could respond, Victor reached the heavy iron gates. Two Tier-3 mercenaries heavily armored elite guards holding enchanted halberds stepped forward, their eyes instantly locking onto Victor’s black Imperial Academy uniform.
"Halt!" the lead guard barked, his hand going to his hilt. "Who goes there? The estate is closed to visitors!"
Victor didn’t slow down. He simply took a single step forward, releasing a fraction of his Aura of the Sovereign.
BOOM!
An invisible, crushing pressure slammed down onto the courtyard floor. The air turned heavy as lead. The two elite mercenaries gasped, their knees buckling as the stone tiles shattered beneath their boots. Before they could even channel their mana, Victor raised a single gloved hand.
Black, liquid mana coated his palm
Obsidian Mana Control.
With an effortless sweep of his arm, a wave of dense black force surged forward, shattering their enchanted halberds like brittle twigs and blasting both guards backward through the grand wooden doors of the manor. The heavy doors exploded inward in a shower of splintered mahogany.
Raymond dropped to his knees in utter shock, hyperventilating. He hadn’t even needed his shadow assassin. Victor had casually flattened two Tier-3 veteran warriors with a flick of his wrist.
Victor stepped over the splintered remains of the front door, sweeping into the grand foyer. Alarms blared throughout the estate. Dozens of footsteps echoed down the grand staircases as mercenaries and guild guards flooded the hall, weapons drawn.
Victor didn’t halt. He simply walked forward, his presence suffocating every man in the room. Every spell cast at him disintegrated upon touching his obsidian mana shield; every blade that swung at him was effortlessly parried or crushed under spatial pressure. He didn’t bother using complex skills. He simply walked through them like an absolute tyrant, leaving a trail of unconscious, groaning elite guards in his wake.
In the upper study, Silas Kross stood behind his massive oak desk, staring at the double doors in utter horror.
The sounds of screaming, shattering wood, and heavy impacts echoing from the floor below grew louder by the second. Silas grabbed a heavy, enchanted flintlock pistol from his desk, his hands trembling violently.
Who is attacking us? Is it the Royal Guard? Is it rival guilds?!
BANG!
The heavy study doors burst off their hinges, slamming into the far wall.
Silas flinched, raising his pistol with a terrified shout. But through the lingering dust, a lone figure stepped into the room.
It was a young man in a black academy uniform, stepping calmly across the ruined doorway. His hair was pristine, his dark eyes pitch black, and his posture entirely relaxed. He casually brushed a speck of dust off his shoulder.
Silas froze, his jaw dropping as his gaze swept over Victor.
He’s... he’s just a kid?!
Silas focused his mana vision, trying to gauge the intruder’s strength and his heart nearly stopped. The oppressive, dense, almost suffocating mana radiating off Victor wasn’t the volatile, unrefined energy of a student.
It was condensed spatial density. The absolute mark of a Tier 4 Core.
A Tier 4 Core at his age?! Silas’s mind reeled in pure horror.That’s impossible! Even the highest geniuses of the Imperial Royal Academy don’t reach Tier 4 before graduation! Who is this monster?!
Victor moved past the destroyed furniture, taking a seat in the velvet armchair directly across from Silas’s desk. He crossed his legs, resting his chin on his steepled fingers. He didn’t offer a dramatic speech. He didn’t waste a single breath explaining his breach.
He simply looked at Silas with cold, empty eyes.
"You took the liberty of wasting my time today, Silas," Victor spoke, his voice low and smooth, ringing with Dominator’s Authority.
Silas swallowed hard, his finger trembling against the trigger of his gun, but he couldn’t bring himself to squeeze it. The sheer weight of Victor’s gaze felt like a sword resting against his windpipe.
"I... I didn’t know..." Silas choked out, his voice cracked with sweat. "Lord Victor... my servant told me you were just an academy student looking for political leverage..."
"I don’t care what your servant told you," Victor cut him off, setting his eyes directly onto the merchant’s soul. "You bought the barren land along the Eastern Ridge. You sank your guild’s entire treasury into purchasing those dead rocky hills under the cover of a ’mining expansion.’"
Silas’s eyes widened in complete, absolute shock. "How... how do you know about that?!"
Victor ignored the question, continuing in a calm, monotonous tone. "You didn’t buy that land for mining. You bought it because of your daughter, Irene."
Silas dropped the pistol. It hit the floorboards with a dull thud. The merchant’s face turned deathly pale, all the color draining from his skin as if he had seen a ghost.
"Irene..." Silas whispered, his voice shaking violently. "You... you know about my daughter?"
"I know she was born with the rare Mana Core Shattering Syndrome," Victor said coldly. "And I know you found an ancient, translated record claiming that a treasure capable of curing her withered mana core was buried beneath the ruins of the Eastern Ridge."
Silas sank into his leather chair, tears of sheer desperation welling in his bloodshot eyes. That secret was known to no one. He had spent years, millions of gold coins, and his entire family’s reputation hunting for that rumor in absolute secrecy.
"Is it... is it there?" Silas begged, leaning across the desk with trembling, desperate hands. "Lord Victor, please! I will give you the guild! I will give you my life! Is the treasure truly beneath those hills?!"
Victor looked down at him, a faint, cold smirk playing on his lips.
"What you’re looking for isn’t there," Victor stated plainly.
Silas felt as though a blade had been plunged straight into his chest. His breath hitched, his hope shattering into a thousand pieces in an instant. "No... no, it has to be... the ancient records said"
"The records were wrong," Victor interrupted smoothly. "Or rather, the treasure was moved a few centuries ago by the High Cathedral."
Silas slumped back, looking completely defeated, a broken man who had lost his final reason to live.
Victor stood up from his chair, dusting off his coat. He looked down at the shivering, broken merchant with complete indifference.
"Give me one week," Victor commanded, his voice echoing sharply through the ruined study. "I will get you what you are looking for."
Silas snapped his head up, his eyes wide with wild, disbelief-filled hope. "Y-You can get that cure? That treasure?"
Victor didn’t answer. He turned his back on Silas, stepping toward the shattered doorway where Aria stood waiting.
"Wait! Lord Victor!" Silas cried out, scrambling to his feet. "Where is it?! How will you get it?! What do you want from me?!"
Victor stopped at the threshold, glancing sideways over his shoulder. His dark eyes glinted with a sharp, dangerous light in the dim ambient dust.
"You’ll have your answers when you prove your worth," Victor said coldly. "Don’t be late next time."
Without another word, Victor walked out of the study, Aria melting seamlessly into the shadows behind him, leaving Silas standing alone in his ruined office.
Silas collapsed onto his knees amidst the debris of his desk. His chest heaved as he stared at the empty doorway.
Had Victor approached him peacefully in a tavern or an academy drawing room, Silas a desperate, crafty merchant eager to save his child would have undoubtedly used every mercenary at his disposal to capture Victor, torture him, and force the location of the cure out of him.
But now?
Silas looked down at the hallway outside his room, where twenty elite Tier-3 guards lay unconscious and defeated without Victor taking a single scratch. He remembered the suffocating weight of that Tier 4 Core and the cold, absolute certainty in the boy’s voice.
Silas realized with terrifying clarity He couldn’t be touched. He couldn’t be threatened. And his words carried absolute weight.
Silas squeezed his eyes shut, bowing his head toward the empty hallway in silent, total submission.
Victor held the key to his daughter’s lifeand Silas had no choice but to dance on the strings of the young sovereign.