The heavy diamond doors of the throne room slammed shut with a deafening c***k. Lord Malakor gripped the edges of his polished desk and stared at the glowing red deficit warnings flashing across his master ledger. The daily tribute to the Prime Sovereign had just cleared his account. The massive deduction left his functional treasury dangerously close to empty.
He dismissed the expensive magical wards and apex miracles lingering in his marketplace interface. The Obsidian Cartel boss could not afford them. He needed a guaranteed victory against the Ashguard Syndicate but he lacked the liquid capital to purchase a definitive systemic solution.
Gideon stood quietly near the marble pillars. The enforcer kept his eyes fixed on the floor.
"Bring the mortal in," Malakor ordered. His voice echo
