After the thunderous conclusion of the meeting at C.S. Holdings, Keifer Shedex stormed out of the grand conference hall, his polished shoes striking the marble floor with harsh, echoing footsteps. Fury boiled within him, twisting his features into a mask of silent rage. His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles blanched white, and his breaths came in shallow, seething bursts.
Behind him, the once cold and reserved executives now flocked like moths to a flame—surrounding Vardas.
They clung to him with shameless smiles and eager words, falling over themselves in a desperate scramble to curry favor. Men and women who, just an hour ago, had sat in judgment over the brothers, now vied for a single glance, a brief word, a nod of acknowledgment from the new rising star of C.S. Holdings.
Keifer's chest tightened painfully at the sight.
It was a massacre—only it was his reputation, his pride, his very future that lay bleeding on the marble floor.
And yet... he could do nothing.
The bitter truth wrapped around him like chains.
He could only bow his head—bow low, humiliated and helpless—because Vardas' victory had been absolute, undeniable. No amount of rage, no amount of wounded pride could change the reality that had been laid bare before the entire company.
He had been utterly defeated.
Not by betrayal.
Not by trickery.
But by raw, undeniable superiority.
As he walked, shoulders rigid and heart in turmoil, the buzz of conversation behind him grew louder.
The Head of Guide Relations—a sharp-eyed man known for his ruthless efficiency—pushed his way through the admiring crowd and stood before Vardas, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and incredulity.
"Vardas," he said, almost reverently, "how... how did you manage it? How did you secure the support of the Skybrand Guild?"
The question hung in the air, heavy with expectation.
Every nearby executive leaned in, hungry for the answer, for a glimpse into the method behind Vardas' meteoric rise.
And Vardas, standing tall at the center of the crowd, allowed a small, knowing smile to touch his lips.
The game had only just begun—and he was already the one holding all the cards.
Inside the lavish, high-rise office of Keifer Shedex, chaos erupted.
The door slammed shut behind him with a thunderous bang that rattled the glass walls. Without a moment's hesitation, Keifer seized the first object within reach—a sleek, ultra-thin laptop—and hurled it across the room with a snarl of rage. The expensive device shattered against the marble wall, sparks and shards raining down like glittering embers.
Still breathing hard, Keifer grabbed a crystal pen from his desk and flung it with equal fury. It struck the window, leaving a spiderweb crack on the reinforced glass before clattering to the floor. His movements were wild, unrestrained, each crash and clatter another roar of frustration at the universe itself.
Across the room, his assistant—Selene Vart—stood frozen like a statue carved from ice. Her face was pale, her hands trembling at her sides. She had seen Keifer furious before, but never like this. This was not anger.
This was desperation.
"YOU!" Keifer suddenly barked, his voice a whipcrack that made Selene flinch. His bloodshot eyes locked onto her like a predator cornering prey.
"How... HOW did you miss this?!" he roared, voice rising to a near hysterical pitch.
He advanced on her, fists clenched so tightly the knuckles turned white.
"I asked you to investigate EVERYTHING about him! His deals, his connections, his movements! EVERYTHING!" he thundered, spittle flying from his lips.
"And you missed the Solar Flare Core?! YOU MISSED IT?!"
Selene backed up a step, instinctively shielding herself even though she knew Keifer would never lay a hand on her. Still, the sheer venom in his voice was enough to cut flesh.
"I-I didn't know..." she stammered, voice cracking under the weight of his fury. "I swear, I didn't know until today... until just now!"
Keifer glared, breathing hard like a wounded beast pacing its cage.
Selene swallowed the lump in her throat and forced herself to continue, knowing that silence would only worsen the storm.
"I just found out," she said, voice trembling, "that the Solar Flare Core was obtained during an expedition... an expedition launched by the Skybrand Guild into a newly manifested SS-Rank Dungeon... somewhere in the Central Plain."
Keifer's face twitched—half disbelieving, half murderous.
Selene pushed on, voice low but urgent. "During that expedition... Vardas wasn't just a participant. He supported them. He helped reinforce critical areas. He supplied logistical support, healing items, rare magic artifacts... and even fought alongside their elites."
The words struck Keifer like hammer blows.
"He earned their gratitude," Selene whispered, almost inaudibly. "He earned their trust. And because of that, they honored him. They backed him. And they gave him access... full backing... and the right to negotiate alliances through Skybrand's secondary houses."
Keifer staggered back a step, as if someone had punched him in the gut.
He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached, fists trembling with suppressed rage.
"All of that..." he said slowly, voice dark and hoarse, "and we didn't even see it coming."
Selene bowed her head, feeling shame crush her down like a physical weight.
Keifer turned away sharply, stalking back to his desk.
He swept his arm across its surface with a howl of rage, sending documents, gold-plated stationery, and crystal paperweights flying in all directions.
"How... how did I lose to HIM?!" he roared.
The walls of the office seemed to tremble under his fury.
And in that burning silence that followed, only one truth remained:
Vardas hadn't just taken the lead.
He had obliterated it.
And Keifer, for all his resources, his grooming, his years of preparation—
---
Still trembling with suppressed rage, Keifer paced the length of his shattered office like a caged beast. The remnants of his outburst—shattered glass, broken gadgets, scattered papers—lay around him like battlefield debris.
Selene stood stiffly near the door, silently praying he wouldn't erupt again.
Just as Keifer turned, ready to unleash another tirade, his eyes caught a flicker of motion—a flash of blue and gold—from the massive wall-mounted television that had somehow survived the storm.
The screen was playing the news.
Almost without thinking, Keifer snatched the remote off the floor, jammed his thumb on the volume button, and turned the sound up until the anchor's voice filled the room like a trumpet blast.
Selene blinked and focused her attention, sensing that whatever was happening might be critical.
The headline blazed across the screen in bold letters:
"Two Days Until the Start of the Three-Day Expedition!"
Keifer narrowed his eyes, his anger momentarily giving way to sharp, cold curiosity.
The news anchor—a polished woman with immaculate hair and a gleaming smile—spoke with theatrical excitement.
"In just two days, the highly anticipated Three-Day Expedition will begin!" she announced. "All eyes are on Peerless Guild's Head, Kyle Nyeku, who is spearheading the bold exploration of the newly discovered, yet already infamous, Dungeon Boss—dubbed by many as 'The Future Death.'
"Preparations are in full swing. Viewers from around the world are already pre-registering to watch the live broadcast of this monumental event! It promises danger, spectacle, and perhaps... the rise—or fall—of heroes!"
The screen shifted to clips: Kyle Naeko standing on a stage, rallying his guild members; flashes of the enormous, ominous dungeon gates; cheering crowds throwing support.
Then came the kicker.
"And in a surprising move," the anchor added, smiling brightly, "Kyle Nyeku has opened a donation channel to support the expedition's preparations! Already, prominent figures and guilds have started pledging resources to aid this endeavor!"
Keifer's face darkened instantly.
He jabbed the remote again, freezing the screen on Kyle's image—the self-proclaimed hero basking in the applause of an adoring public.
"So this is their next move," Keifer muttered, voice dripping with scorn. His hands clenched the remote so tightly it cracked.
Without turning his gaze from the screen, he snapped at Selene, voice low but iron-hard.
"Get me the names," he ordered.
"Every donor. Every supporter. Every fool throwing their money behind this little circus."
Selene jumped to attention, frantically pulling out her tablet.
"Y-yes, immediately, sir!" she stammered.
Keifer finally allowed himself a cruel smile, one devoid of warmth or humor.
"Let's see who's betting on the wrong horse this time," he whispered, eyes gleaming with venomous promise.
Outside the window, the skyline of Neonsvale City glittered under the twilight—beautiful, indifferent.
Inside the office, however, a storm far more dangerous than any dungeon boss was gathering strength.
Selene returned to Keifer's office, a thin folder tucked under her arm and an unreadable look on her face.
Keifer, who had been pacing back and forth like a caged beast, immediately snapped his attention to her.
"Well? What did you find?"
Wordlessly, Selene approached and placed the folder on his desk, flipping it open to reveal a colorful assortment of screenshots, news clippings, and Huntertok posts.
Keifer leaned over eagerly—and instantly regretted it.
The first image was a meme: Kyle Naeko photoshopped onto a funeral procession, proudly carrying his own coffin, with the bold caption:
"Ashtag: Marching Proudly into Oblivion!"
Another post featured a fake poster for a boxing match titled:
"Kyle Nyeku vs. Common Sense - Place Your Bets!"
...with 'Common Sense' being a towering, muscular giant and Kyle depicted as a scrawny child holding a butter knife.
Keifer's face twitched violently.
Selene cleared her throat delicately.
"Sir," she began, tone professional despite the absurd material she was presenting, "public sentiment is... overwhelmingly negative. Huntertok has completely exploded. Kyle is being mocked left and right. They're calling him 'Ashtag' now. As in, ashes to ashes."
She tapped the next page.
"Trending hashtags include #KyleTheClueless, #DungeonOrBust, and my personal favorite, #SkydivingWithoutAParachute."
Keifer looked like he wanted to flip the table, but somehow kept it together.
"And because of all this," Selene continued, "I strongly advise against investing in the Peerless Guide. Their reputation is currently a burning wreck. Public opinion thinks Kyle is walking into certain death, and frankly... I agree."
She closed the folder with a decisive thud, as if putting the final nail in the coffin.
Keifer, however, remained still for a moment, staring off into space as if deep in thought.
Then... he smiled.
Selene blinked.
"I want in," Keifer said firmly, his voice brimming with sudden, unshakable confidence.
Selene's mouth opened slightly. "...Excuse me?"
"This," Keifer said, slamming a fist onto the folder, "is my golden opportunity."
He stood up, fire blazing in his eyes.
"Everyone thinks they're doomed. Everyone is laughing at them. But when you're at the bottom," he said, raising a finger dramatically, "there's nowhere to go but up!"
Selene opened her mouth to argue—but Keifer cut her off.
"Listen," he said quickly. "If they succeed against all odds, I'll be the genius investor who believed in the underdog. And if they fail..."
He chuckled darkly.
"I'll still get the publicity. Sympathy points. Media coverage. Maybe even spin it into a survival documentary."
He pointed at her sharply.
"Set up a meeting with Peerless Guide. I want a partnership deal on my desk by tomorrow."
Selene hesitated, clearly still thinking it was a terrible idea, but years of surviving Keifer's whims had trained her well.
"...Understood, sir," she said, though she couldn't resist muttering under her breath as she turned to leave:
"Guess we're skydiving without a parachute, too."
As the office door clicked shut behind her, Keifer stood by the window, gazing out over Neonsvale City with the look of a man convinced he was about to conquer the world—or crash and burn in spectacular fashion.
Either way, it was going to be a hell of a show.