The gold dome shimmering over Casablanca wasn't just a shield; it was a giant cash register. Every missile the Shadow Market fleet fired didn't bring death—it brought profit.
Inside the Emporium, the "Sales Recorded" notifications were scrolling so fast they blurred.
[Sales Recorded: 12x Mana-Warheads.]
[Value: 600,000 Cosmic Credits.]
[Shop Status: Overflowing with Energy!]
Omar stood at the massive balcony, the wind whipping his coat. Below him, the people of Casablanca were coming out of their homes, staring up at the golden sky. They weren't dying; they were watching a miracle.
"Laila, stay with the prisoner," Omar commanded, his voice vibrating with the power of the credits he was accumulating. "Kaelen, it's time to deliver the 'Refund'."
The Ghost Knight stepped forward, his dark armor now crackling with the golden energy the shop had just "swallowed" from the missiles. "The target is locked, Master. Twelve warships. Their hulls are reinforced with Void-Lead."
"Good," Omar smirked. "That makes them more expensive to replace."
Omar raised his Sovereign Staff toward the ocean. He didn't fire a laser or a fireball. He used the [Item Materialization] skill—but instead of pulling an item from a shelf, he pulled the kinetic energy of the absorbed missiles out of the shop's "Bank."
"Materialize: Judgment of the Merchant!"
The golden dome above the city suddenly rippled. Twelve massive spears, made of pure, solidified kinetic energy, formed in the air. Each spear represented the stolen power of the missiles the fleet had fired.
"FIRE."
The spears shot across the water like falling stars. There were no sirens, no warnings. The Shadow Market's "Mana-Nullification" shields, which were designed to stop magic, were useless against pure physical kinetic force.
CRUNCH.
The lead warship, the SS Malice, was snapped in half as the spear pierced its deck and exited through the hull into the seabed. One by one, the warships were pinned to the ocean floor like butterflies in a display case.
The invasion was over in exactly forty-five seconds.
Omar watched through his [Merchant's Eye]. The soldiers were jumping into lifeboats, terrified. He had deliberately avoided hitting the fuel tanks; he didn't want a massacre. He wanted a message.
[Reputation Update: 'The Ghost of Casablanca' -> 'The Sovereign of the Coast'.]
[Global Alert: The Shadow Market's influence in North Africa has dropped to 0%.]
Suddenly, a small, black bird—a mechanical crow—flew through the golden dome and landed on the balcony railing. It had a small screen for a face.
The screen flickered to life, showing a dark room filled with hooded figures. The Board of Directors of the Shadow Market.
"Omar," a distorted voice spoke from the crow. "You have cost us three billion credits today. You have humiliated our Reapers. You think you are a hero, but you are just a bigger fish in a very small pond."
Omar walked to the crow and leaned in close. "You're wrong. I'm not a hero. I'm a businessman. And your fleet? I'm claiming it as 'abandoned property.' If you want your ships back, they're for sale on my website. The starting bid is fifty Origin Shards each."
"You wouldn't dare—"
"I just did," Omar said, and he crushed the mechanical crow in his hand.
He turned to look at the Golden Core, which was now glowing a peaceful blue. The city was safe, but the world was now watching him. He was no longer a secret. He was a target.
"Kaelen," Omar said, looking at the distant, sinking ships. "Prepare the 'Premium' invitations. We're going to have a Grand Opening tomorrow. And since the whole world is watching... we might as well give them something to buy."