As Chinra Shedex, the legendary patriarch of C.S. Holdings, strode into the grand meeting hall, a palpable heaviness descended over the room.
The laughter, the whispered gossip, the subtle snickers at Keifer's humiliation—all of it evaporated in an instant.
Silence gripped the air like an iron fist.
Chinra's mere presence twisted the atmosphere. The executives, the shareholders, the stakeholders—all those who normally moved mountains with their words and signatures—now sat frozen, their spines stiffened, their breathing shallow. The air itself seemed to thicken, as though the room had sunk underwater.
He said nothing at first.
He didn't need to.
His slow, deliberate steps—heavy with the weight of authority—spoke louder than any command. His silver hair, the mark of a man who had weathered a thousand storms, gleamed under the crystal chandeliers. Every strand of white was a testament to the decades he had spent building C.S. Holdings from a struggling firm to an untouchable empire.
Finally, Chinra settled into his massive seat at the head of the table—an obsidian throne infused with defensive runes—and gave a single, almost imperceptible nod.
It was the signal they had been waiting for.
The administrators and executive officers immediately leapt into action, their voices carefully measured, their words polished to a mirror sheen.
One after another, they presented their strategy for the company's next monumental move: the conquest of a newly discovered dungeon.
The dungeon, codenamed "Obsidian's Fall," had been located deep beneath the Verdant Expanse—a dangerous, mana-rich territory where nature itself warped under the influence of ancient energies.
Initial scouting teams had confirmed that the dungeon's mineral veins held deposits of A-Rank ores—resources valuable enough to shift entire economies. Even more thrilling, there were rumors—whispers—that hidden deeper within the dungeon were traces of S-Rank minerals, the kind of fortune that could elevate a single guild or company into global dominance overnight.
The executives spoke of mobilization plans:
Rune-armored freighters already prepped.
Extraction crews reinforced by B-Rank Hunters.
Mage engineers ready to seal volatile pockets of energy.
Even contingency plans in case of "unforeseen dungeon events"—code words for monster surges, magical anomalies, or worse.
Every word, every figure, every plan was presented with painstaking precision.
Because they weren't just reporting.
They were performing.
Performing for Chinra Shedex.
And when the last executive finished detailing the exploitation strategy, the old man finally moved.
A faint, almost ghostlike smile flickered across his lined face.
He was pleased.
A wave of silent relief swept the room—like drowning men tasting air.
Yet beneath the surface of this professional poise, another, far more volatile tension simmered.
A tension so thick it could be carved with a blade.
Today was not an ordinary meeting.
Everyone—everyone—knew it.
For months, rumors had swirled like a stormcloud over C.S. Holdings. The old lion, Chinra Shedex, long past the prime of his youth, was nearing the inevitable twilight of his reign. His health was beginning to falter; his once iron grip now showed cracks.
And when a king weakens, succession becomes a battlefield.
Every executive, every shareholder, every powerful ally and rival, all had their eyes locked onto one single thing:
The Choice.
Would Chinra Shedex name his successor tonight?
Would he elevate Keifer—the legitimate son, the firstborn, the one raised for the throne?
Or would he do the unthinkable?
Would he crown Vazdas—the bastard, the outcast, the prodigy who had already seized the admiration of most of the board?
The stakes could not be higher.
The announcement, if it came, would ripple far beyond the confines of this room.
It would crash into the global markets, sending C.S. Holdings' stock prices soaring or plummeting. It would redraw alliances. Forge new rivalries. Perhaps even ignite silent wars in the shadows.
Every breath in the room was held hostage by that single, inevitable question:
Who would inherit the empire?
Chinra's steely gaze swept over the gathered faces—reading their hopes, their fears, their greed—and then finally…
his ancient lips parted to speak.
And the world seemed to stop spinning.
The silence stretched unbearably, a living, suffocating thing that pressed down on every chest in the room.
Every executive, every administrator, every shareholder present was trapped within their own racing thoughts, desperate to predict the next move, the next declaration.
Sweat prickled on brows hidden behind polished smiles. The clink of a single glass against a coaster sounded like a hammer strike in the unbearable stillness.
It was Keifer who finally broke the silence.
Rising slowly to his feet, the eldest son adjusted his navy-blue tie with an air of rehearsed confidence. His heart pounded against his ribs like a caged beast, but his face showed only calculated calm.
He bowed lightly toward Chinra, and then toward the assembled council.
"Honorable Father. Distinguished board members," he began, his voice clear, steady. "I present my quarterly performance report for the family's consideration."
A ripple moved through the room—not of excitement, but of weary protocol.
Keifer launched into his presentation with precision, detailing his latest major success:
A transaction involving A-Rank Power Stones, valued at a solid $100 million.
Projected profits. Market analysis. Expansion possibilities.
He delivered each point like a well-trained diplomat, weaving numbers and expectations into a tapestry of assurance.
And for a moment… just a moment… the hardened expressions around the table softened.
A few nods.
A murmur of muted approval.
Even the skeptical executives, who just minutes ago had whispered about his incompetence, exchanged glances that said, "Perhaps he's not entirely useless after all."
Keifer saw it.
He felt it.
The faint shift in the tide.
And then, as if to hammer his point into eternity, he reached into his tailored suit jacket and carefully, reverently, retrieved something.
A crystal unlike anything most had ever seen.
Glowing faintly in his gloved hand was a Vedat Shard.
The moment it emerged, the temperature in the room seemed to spike.
Eyes widened.
Voices hitched.
It wasn't merely beautiful—it was alive.
A soft, golden light pulsed from within the shard, resonating with an ancient, undying energy.
The air grew richer, cleaner, every breath drawn in feeling like a draught of pure vitality.
Old scars ached less.
Arthritic joints loosened.
For a fleeting second, even time itself seemed to hesitate before the shard's majesty.
The Vedat Shard.
A rare, S-Plus-Rank power gem—coveted across continents.
An artifact capable of curing any disease, no matter how cursed or chronic.
Capable of restoring vitality to the elderly, extending life, healing the unhealable.
It was said that the royal families of the Eastern Empires would trade entire provinces for a single Vedat Shard.
And here was Keifer Shedex, the "disgraced heir," presenting one like an afterthought.
The executives—hardened men and women who thought themselves immune to awe—could not hide their reactions.
Sharp whispers filled the room like a storm wind.
> "T-That's a Vedat Shard, right?"
> "Impossible. Those can only be found in cleared S-Rank Dungeons... and even then, only one out of a thousand times!"
> "If he can procure a Vedat Shard, maybe... maybe we were wrong about him."
> "No wonder the old man hasn't announced the succession yet."
> "Keifer Shedex... perhaps he still has teeth."
Even Chinra's cold, impenetrable gaze lingered a heartbeat longer on the shard than on Keifer himself.
For Keifer, standing tall, basking in the heavy, envious gazes of the board, it was sweet validation.
Finally, he thought, finally they see.
In his mind, the pieces were aligning perfectly.
The $100 million deal, the Vedat Shard—surely, with this presentation of power, of value, of loyalty to the future of C.S. Holdings—he had secured his place.
The succession was his.
The title of heir was his.
The empire would be his.
Keifer allowed himself a faint, satisfied smile as he gently placed the Vedat Shard onto a velvet cushion, letting its luminous glow bathe the room in triumph.
In that moment, he was already savoring his imagined victory.
He was certain he had already won.
While Keifer stood tall, basking in the illusion of his assured victory, savoring the hushed admiration of the executives, the right moment arrived—
And Vardas finally spoke.
With the calm of a man who knew his worth, Vardas pushed his chair back, stood, and addressed the room.
His voice was not loud, yet it carried a weight, a certainty, that immediately demanded silence.
Without ceremony, he began to lay out his accounts, detailing the scale of his achievements with an effortless grace.
First, he spoke of his latest transaction:
A staggering $500 million deal brokered through collaborations with a powerful A-Rank syndicate and a renowned S-Rank corporation.
The moment the figure left his lips, a visible tremor ran through the room.
Gasps.
Whispers.
Shock.
Five times the deal Keifer had just proudly announced.
The contrast was brutal—undeniable.
An uncomfortable murmur rippled among the executives, barely concealed.
> "Five hundred million...?"
> "He outdid Keifer... by fivefold."
> "How... how could the second son pass the main heir so effortlessly?"
> "What a pity. Keifer... after all that effort..."
Keifer, still standing by the velvet cushion that cradled the Vedat Shard, felt the ground tilt beneath his feet.
His face paled.
The confident smile crumbled.
His hands, once steady, tightened into fists at his sides.
But Vardas was not finished.
With the poise of a seasoned general unveiling his victories, he continued.
He spoke casually—almost carelessly—of the new alliance he had secured with an elite organization:
The Skybrand Guild.
An SSS-Rank Guild.
The highest of the high.
The room practically exploded.
Executives glanced at each other with naked disbelief.
The Head of Guild Relations—a stern man who hadn't spoken a word for half the meeting—could no longer contain himself.
He stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair.
"The Skybrand Guild?!" he blurted, eyes wide behind his glasses. "You—you formed a pact with them?!"
Vardas simply nodded, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
The impact was devastating.
Everyone knew what an SSS-Rank guild alliance meant:
Power.
Protection.
Influence across nations.
Unshakable legitimacy in the most ruthless markets of the world.
Keifer's heart plunged into a cold abyss.
And yet Vardas still wasn't done.
With measured precision, Vardas reached into a sealed briefcase and retrieved something that immediately changed the atmosphere.
From a velvet-lined casing, he brought forth an object that seemed to shine with a radiance all its own.
A Solar Flare Core.
The moment it was revealed, an intoxicating, almost divine fragrance flooded the room.
The air shimmered.
A heady warmth, rich and alive, filled every breath.
Executives inhaled deeply, their eyes glossing over in wonder.
A few staggered back as if struck by an invisible force.
The Solar Flare Core wasn't just rare—it was legendary.
A crystalline heart of pure solar energy, forged only inside the bodies of Solaris Rex, monstrous beasts that roamed the Central Plane—a place where even S-Rank adventurers hesitated to tread.
To harvest a core from a Solaris Rex required not just strength but miraculous luck.
Each core was worth billions.
Empires would bleed for one.
And now, one lay gleaming in Vardas' hand.
The shock in the room had reached fever pitch.
Praises poured out like an unstoppable tide:
> "Incredible!"
> "A Solar Flare Core... my god."
> "He's a once-in-a-century genius!"
> "This is the true successor!"
Keifer was crushed.
Emotionally, spiritually—he was pulverized beneath the weight of Vardas' accomplishments.
He could only lower his gaze, his shoulders trembling with silent, helpless rage.
In contrast, Vardas stood serene, basking not in arrogance, but in quiet, undeniable supremacy.
Applause began to erupt, hesitant at first, but quickly building into a full crescendo of admiration and awe.
The battle, it seemed, was over.
Vardas had not merely defeated Keifer—he had obliterated him.
But among the rising clamor of voices, one figure remained unnervingly still.
Chinra Shedex.
The patriarch.
The founder.
The one whose opinion mattered more than any others combined.
His face, carved from stone, did not brighten.
Did not soften.
If anything, there was a deeper, heavier shadow behind his eyes.
Not anger at Vardas.
No.
It was disappointment.
A subtle, heartbreaking tilt of the head, a faint narrowing of the gaze—
Directed at Keifer.
The realization burned hotter than fire:
Chinra had wanted Keifer to win.
He had hoped for him.
And now, faced with this undeniable defeat, disappointment clouded his once-proud eyes.
The meeting continued, technically, but the real decision had already been made.
Executives whispered among themselves that today, the heir had been decided.
The moment Vardas presented the Solar Flare Core, the final nail had been driven into Keifer's coffin.
Vardas Shedex would be the successor.
The best businessman.
The future of C.S. Holdings.
And Keifer... was nothing more than a faded hope.