The air inside the Sovereign Emporium was thick with the scent of ozone and betrayal. While the city of Casablanca roared with the sounds of a distant naval invasion, a much more intimate war was being fought within the shop's obsidian walls.
Laila moved like a wisp of smoke, her dual daggers—now infused with the Void-Silk—clashing against her brother's massive claymore. Youssef was a titan of physical strength, his every swing cracking the reinforced tiles of the Emporium.
"You've grown weak, Laila!" Youssef roared, his blade glowing with a sickly red mana. "Playing bodyguard to a street-rat merchant? You were born to lead the Reapers, not to serve a shopkeeper!"
Laila didn't waste breath on words. She ducked under a horizontal slash that would have decapitated a normal hunter and drove her knee into Youssef's ribs. "This 'shopkeeper' gave me a soul, Youssef! Something you sold to the Shadow Market years ago!"
On the other side of the hall, Omar stood perfectly still. His eyes were closed, his mind linked to the Golden Core at the center of the shop. He wasn't watching the duel; he was watching the horizon. Through the shop's mystical sensors, he could see the Shadow Market Fleet—twelve iron-clad warships pulsing with forbidden European tech—approaching the Port of Casablanca.
[System Alert: High-Frequency Resonance Detected.]
[The Fleet is preparing a 'Mana-Nullification' Strike.]
[Estimated Time to Impact: 120 Seconds.]
"Kaelen," Omar whispered.
"Ready, Master," the Ghost Knight replied, his form becoming a towering shadow behind Omar.
"Don't kill the soldiers. Just... evict them."
Omar opened his eyes. They were glowing with a terrifying, golden light. He slammed his Sovereign Staff against the floor.
"LEAVE."
It wasn't a request; it was a command of reality. A massive shockwave of pure authority rippled outward. The Shadow Market soldiers who were trying to break through the roof were suddenly seized by an invisible force. It didn't hurt them, but it denied their existence within the shop. One by one, they were blinked out of reality, teleported a thousand feet into the cold Atlantic ocean outside.
Only Youssef remained, his "Blood-Link" to Laila acting as a temporary anchor against Omar's command. He gasped, falling to one knee as the gravity in the room increased tenfold.
"You... you monster," Youssef spat, looking at Omar. "The Market... they won't stop. They have the 'World-Eater' missiles. If they can't have the Core, they'll burn Casablanca to ash just to keep it from you!"
Omar walked toward Youssef, his footsteps heavy and rhythmic. "That's the difference between us, Youssef. You see Casablanca as a battlefield. I see it as my Marketplace. And nobody burns down my storefront."
Omar looked at Laila. She had her dagger at her brother's throat, her hand trembling only slightly.
"Laila, the fleet is locking on," Omar said. "I'm going to use the Golden Core to shield the entire city. But to do that, the Emporium needs to consume a massive amount of high-grade mana. More than I have."
Laila looked at her brother, then at Omar. She understood. "His core... Youssef is an A+ Rank Hunter. His mana is refined by the Shadow Market's experimental elixirs."
Youssef laughed, a jagged, desperate sound. "Go ahead. Kill me. Feed your shop. Prove that you're just as cold as we are!"
Omar looked Youssef in the eye. "I don't kill for free, Youssef. That's bad business. But I do accept Forfeitures."
Omar reached out and placed his hand on Youssef's forehead.
[Processing Forfeiture: 'The Reaper's Strength'...]
[Extracting: 90% of Mana Reserves.]
[Penalty: Permanent Rank Demotion to D-Rank.]
Youssef's scream was silenced as the mana was ripped from his body, flowing into Omar's arm and then down into the floorboards of the shop. The Golden Core in the center of the room began to spin with insane speed, emitting a hum that vibrated through every bone in the city.
A dome of translucent gold erupted from the Emporium. It expanded rapidly, racing over the skyscrapers, the mosques, and the harbor, until it formed a massive umbrella over Casablanca.
Seconds later, the first 'World-Eater' missile from the fleet hit the dome.
There was no explosion. The gold dome simply 'swallowed' the missile, converting its destructive energy into raw currency for the shop.
[Sales Recorded: 1x World-Eater Missile.]
[Value: 50,000 Cosmic Credits.]
Omar turned back to the window, watching the baffled fleet in the distance. "Laila, throw him in the dungeon. We'll use him for information later."
He then looked at the credits ticking up on his mental screen.
"The Shadow Market just tried to pay me to destroy my own city," Omar smirked, his eyes cold and sharp. "It's time to send them a refund... in lead."