Omega stepped into the Guild Operations Office, a stark contrast to the cold brutality of the torture chamber he had just left behind. Here, the air was crisp with calm efficiency. The walls, inscribed with intricate soundproofing runes, muted the chaos of the outside world. Soft magical orbs floated along the ceiling, casting a steady, ambient glow. The scent of aged parchment, ink, and faint alchemical herbs mingled in the air—an aroma that spoke of silent wars fought with information rather than blades.
At the heart of the room stood a large obsidian desk, its surface cluttered with stacked reports and sealed scrolls—evidence of a syndicate that never slept.
From an adjacent chamber, Heckran emerged. His long, unkempt brown hair fell over sharp, sunken features. Dark circles etched beneath his eyes betrayed countless sleepless nights, though his steps remained measured. His attire was plain, loose-fitting for practicality, yet his mere presence exuded a quiet authority. He was not a warrior. He was the cog that kept Dark Wolf's vast machinery from collapsing.
"Lord Omega," Heckran greeted, forcing a weary smile. His voice, though respectful, carried a rasp of exhaustion.
Omega's sharp gaze assessed him in an instant. Heckran's dedication was admirable, but even the most reliable gears required maintenance.
"Give me those," Omega said, reaching out for the stack of reports.
"But, My Lord—"
"No arguments." Omega's tone left no room for discussion.
With surprising gentleness, he guided Heckran towards the large sofa nestled in the corner of the office. The furniture, enchanted to transform into a full-sized bed, had been installed precisely for these situations.
"You've earned your rest, Heckran," Omega said, a rare softness in his voice.
Heckran, for once, did not resist. His body, betraying his pride, slumped onto the sofa. Within moments, the quiet rhythm of his breathing filled the corner. Omega watched him for a beat longer, a glimmer of genuine respect in his eyes.
Even in the shadows, loyalty must be protected.
Omega returned to the desk, settling into the high-backed chair. He placed his fingers on the first report. His aura shifted—the atmosphere around him condensed, as if time itself acknowledged his presence.
He activated {Absolute Acceleration}, a forbidden ability he had refined—amplifying both his cognitive and physical speed to superhuman levels. Reports blurred under his gaze as his mind dissected data, cross-referenced information, and absorbed strategic points with machine-like precision.
From his position near the door, Fang watched in silence. Despite witnessing this phenomenon countless times, the sensation never failed to unsettle him. The sheer intensity of Omega's aura distorted the air itself. Fang felt a migraine forming just from trying to track Omega's movements.
'His mind operates on a level beyond human comprehension,' Fang thought grimly. 'If not for my Aura reinforcement, I wouldn't even perceive his actions.'
Minutes passed. Or perhaps it was seconds. Time lost meaning in Omega's accelerated world.
Eventually, Omega leaned back, closing the final scroll. He exhaled slowly, the aura of unnatural acceleration dissipating around him. His mind, however, was sharper than ever.
"Is this all of today's reports?" Omega asked, his tone calm but firm.
Fang, who also oversaw the internal auditing of all departments, stepped forward. "Yes, My Lord. Every branch has submitted their status reports."
Omega folded his hands beneath his chin, his violet eyes narrowing as he sank into thought. The world cannot be defined by black and white. Where there is shadow, there is light. Both can be dangerous when left unchecked. It is the duty of authority to maintain that balance. Yet those in power have long since abandoned that responsibility, blinded by greed.
A faint, wry smile played on his lips. In contrast, the underworld I govern is the most balanced of all. A pity, isn't it?
It had been four years since Omega had seized control of the underworld. With overwhelming force, unmatched strategy, and relentless purging of corruption, he dismantled the old order. Those too vile to be redeemed were eliminated. Those willing to operate within a system of order were brought under strict control.
The Underworld Syndicate now functioned through Seven Divisions:
1. Gambling & Loans Division
2. Smuggling Division
3. Magic Item Distribution
4. Mercenary Operations
5. Potions & Herbal Alchemy Trade
6. Underworld Market & Auctions
7. Information Network (Shadow Assassins Division)
Each division was led by a Head, autonomous in their daily operations but absolutely loyal to Omega. Among them, the Information Network was unique—its elite Shadow Assassins personally selected and trained by Fang, their allegiance bound by loyalty and an oath deeper than contracts.
'There are three pillars of power within this kingdom,' Omega mused. The Royal and Noble Aristocracy, the Local Powers comprising influential guilds and Magic Towers, and lastly—the Underworld Syndicate.
Out of these three, only the Underworld functioned with an operational system designed to minimize harm to civilians. Drugs, human trafficking, and all direct forms of exploitative crime had been eradicated. The Underworld under Omega was a shadow government—its operations cleaner than the Nobles' public facades.
"At least we've built a foundation worth believing in," Omega muttered aloud.
Fang approached. "Indeed. But if the Nobles decide to focus their attention on us, things will become… problematic."
Omega's lips twisted into a sardonic smile. "They will blame us for things we haven't done. It's inevitable."
Fang's expression darkened. "We can handle their strikes. But it will damage the organization's integrity. Worse, exposure will paint a target on us—drawing attention from every faction seeking to dismantle us."
Omega leaned back, eyes scanning the ceiling's glowing sigils. "Let's hope their arrogance blinds them a little longer."
Suddenly, the temperature in the room dipped slightly. From the folds of the shadows, a figure emerged—silent, unnoticed until it spoke.
"My Lord, all Heads of the Underworld Divisions are assembled in the Council Chamber. All are present except the Information Division. They're executing a priority mission."
Omega nodded. "Understood. You are dismissed."
The Shadow Assassin said nothing further, dissolving back into the darkness as if swallowed by the very walls.
Omega stood, adjusting his cloak with a fluid motion. The meeting ahead was more than routine. With recent escalations, tonight's Council would define the Syndicate's next move against the shifting tides of Nobility and Royal intrigue.
"Let's not keep them waiting," Omega said, his tone regaining its sharpness.
Fang fell into step beside him. "As always, My Lord."
With measured strides, Omega made his way through the corridor leading to the Council Chamber, his mind already five steps ahead, calculating, orchestrating, and preparing for the next phase of his plan.
Tonight, the shadows would move—not as criminals, but as the kingdom's unseen equilibrium.