Season 1 chapter 20
The Dean's Victory
The telegraph lines to Seistain were burning hot.
When Dean Varek received the coded message—"ALINA SECURE. BASE DESTROYED. ASSETS RETURNING"—he reportedly dropped his cane and hugged his secretary.
It wasn't just a rescue; it was a massacre of the enemy. The DI government was ecstatic. The "Democratic Ones" (as the report called them) had wiped out a major terror hub and recovered fifty stolen citizens.
By the time the DNV-77 reached the rendezvous point, a massive Hospital Ship was waiting to take the fifty survivors to the mainland for medical treatment and interrogation.
Malesh and Kniya stood on the flight deck of the carrier, watching the survivors transfer to the hospital ship.
"Look at that," Kniya said, watching the women wave at them from the other ship. "We did a good thing, didn't we?"
"We did a profitable thing," Malesh corrected, patting the pocket where the lead box sat. "The Dean is happy. The government is happy. And we are alive."
"You know," Kniya grinned, looking at the sunset. "I think I deserve a vacation. Somewhere with no jungles. And no democracy quizzes."
"Agreed," Malesh nodded. "Let's go get paid."
The Prank and the Paperwork
The office of Dean Varek smelled of expensive mahogany, ink, and old money—a sharp contrast to the smell of burning cordite and jungle rot that still lingered on Malesh and Kniya's clothes.
Dean Varek sat behind his massive oak desk, looking ten years younger. Alina was safe in the infirmary. The nightmare was over.
"Gentlemen," Varek beamed, spreading his arms wide. "I don't know how you did it. The reports say the entire Black Tooth island has been... 'reformatted.' You didn't just save my daughter; you saved the reputation of this university!"
"We aim to please," Kniya said, sitting down on the plush leather sofa without asking, putting his muddy boots up on the coffee table. "We also aim to get paid. The contract completion clause?"
Varek's smile didn't fade, but a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. He leaned forward, steepling his fingers.
"Ah, yes. The payment," Varek sighed dramatically. "About that. I've been looking at the university bylaws, and strictly speaking... using school funds to hire private mercenaries is a 'gray area.' The Board of Directors is refusing to release the 5 million credits."
The room went deadly silent. The ticking of the grandfather clock seemed to get very loud.
Malesh didn't blink. He didn't look angry. He just reached into his pocket and pulled out a box of matches. He lit one, watching the flame dance.
"I see," Malesh said, his voice void of emotion. "Kniya, do we have a quote for 'Structural Removal'?"
"We do," Kniya replied, pulling out his combat knife and cleaning his fingernails with it. "I think we start a new project, brother. It's called 'The Great Campus Fire.' Step one: We burn the Administration building. Step two: We accidentally detonate the steam boilers in the basement."
"I can disable the water pumps in four minutes," Malesh added calmly, blowing out the match. "So there will be no one to put out the fire."
Varek's face went pale. The mischievous glint vanished instantly. He realized too late that you do not joke with people who consider "blowing up a mountain" a valid problem-solving strategy.
"Whoa! Whoa!" Varek stood up, waving his hands frantically. "Stop! Put the knife away! Put the matches away! I was joking! It was a test! A test of your... patience!"
"We failed the test," Kniya said deadpan. "Now give us the bank draft before Malesh lights the curtains."
"It's already done!" Varek stammered, fumbling with the lock on his desk drawer. He pulled out a heavy, wax-sealed envelope. "I was just trying to lighten the mood! Humor! It's a coping mechanism!"
He slid the envelope across the desk. Malesh picked it up and broke the seal. Inside was a Bank Draft from the Royal Bank of Seistain, certified for 5,000,000 Credits.
"Humor is inefficient when discussing finances," Malesh noted, tucking the draft into his vest. "But the paper is valid. We are cool."
Varek slumped back in his chair, wiping sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. "You two are terrifying. Truly. I hired students and got monsters."
"You got results," Kniya corrected, finally taking his feet off the table. "Is that all, Dean? We have a lot of sleep to catch up on."
"One last thing," Varek said, regaining his composure. "Since you two missed the entire First Semester due to... 'fieldwork'... I have taken the liberty of adjusting your academic records."
He slid two thick scrolls of parchment across the desk.
Malesh unrolled one.
Student: Malesh.
Semester 1 Average: 90%.
Remarks: Exceptional independent study.
"90%?" Malesh raised an eyebrow. "I haven't attended a single class in three months. I don't even know what 'Agricultural Philosophy' is."
"Consider it a great favor," Varek smiled weakly. "I can't give you 100% or the Board will get suspicious. But 90%... that's the 'Dean's List.' It's the least I can do for the men who saved my family."
"I'll take it," Kniya grinned, looking at his own scroll. "I'm a genius without studying. My mother will be so proud."
"Just... go," Varek sighed, waving them out. "And please, for the love of god, don't blow anything up on your way to the dorms."
"No promises," Malesh said.
They walked out of the office, 5 million credits richer and academically gifted by the power of corruption.
The Unsinkable Box
They were back in Seistain. The noise of the city—trams, steam whistles, the shouting of vendors—felt alien after days of jungle silence.
Malesh and Kniya sat on the edge of their beds in their cramped dorm room. They were clean, bandaged, and wearing fresh clothes. The nightmare was over.
Suddenly, Malesh froze. He patted the side of his torn tactical vest, which lay on the floor in a heap of laundry.
"I just heard something," Malesh whispered, leaning down.
"What?" Kniya asked, looking up from counting his remaining credits. "Did a spider follow us home?"
Malesh reached into the hidden inner pocket—the one with the military-grade zipper—and pulled out a heavy, dented, lead object.
"Does this lead box survive the explosion?" Kniya gasped, his eyes widening.
Malesh turned it over in his hands. It was scratched, scorched, and smelled like sulfur, but the seal was intact. The Blantozite inside was safe.
"I think so," Malesh said, a slow, greedy smile spreading across his face. "We are going to get rich."
The Tax Man Cometh
Three Days Later.
Life had returned to a boring normalcy. They were attending lectures, ignoring assignments, and waiting.
They were walking out of the campus gate when a black sedan pulled up. A man in a pristine black suit, wearing dark sunglasses despite the cloudy weather, stepped out and blocked their path.
He didn't smile. He didn't wave. He just stood there like a statue.
Malesh and Kniya stopped, looking him up and down.
"Are you a salesman?" Kniya asked, squinting. "Because we are not going to meet up with any kind of salesman. We have enough vacuum cleaners."
"Or are you a tax officer?" Malesh added, shaking his head with mock pity. "Going to collect the taxes and going to torture the poor people for your tax money? It is so sad to see. Truly."
The man's jaw tightened. "Why are you talking shit to me? I am just here for the collateral."
"Whoa, relax," Malesh raised his hands, grinning. "Yeah, yeah, we were just joking, you know? Jokes are really necessary in this world. Why are you so serious? Why is every fucking man dressed in a black suit always so serious? You don't need to be like that in front of us. You can be casual, you know. Loosen the tie."
The man stared at them with dead eyes. He held out his hand.
Malesh reached into his bag and slapped the heavy lead box into the man's palm.
"Pleasure doing business," Malesh said.
The man didn't check it. He simply reached into his jacket, pulled out a small, embossed card with a single phone number on it, and handed it to Kniya.
"Call it tonight," the man said. Then he got back in the car and drove away without another word.
The Call of Capital
That night, they sat around the dorm phone. Kniya dialed the number.
It rang once.
"Hello, my sweethearts," the smooth, cultured voice of Mantouse Adeius purred through the receiver. "I know you are saved. I trust the swim was refreshing?"
"Ah, don't talk to us like that," Malesh groaned, grabbing the phone from Kniya. "It sounds cringe to me. Please maintain professional distance."
"Okay, you idiots," Mantouse chuckled, his tone shifting instantly to business. "Let's talk about the thing we were going to discuss."
There was the sound of paper rustling on the other end.
"You have returned my collateral. You have destroyed the competition. You have proven... competent," Mantouse said. "I am a man of my word. I am initiating the transfer of funds to your offshore accounts as we speak. Furthermore, the deeds are being drafted."
"The islands?" Kniya asked, leaning in.
"Two islands in the Northern Sector," Mantouse confirmed. "One sitting on a billion credits of Petroleum. The other sitting on the largest Fissluation deposit in the hemisphere. They are yours. You now own the energy of the future."
"Pleasure doing business," Malesh said, his voice trembling slightly with the realization of what they just acquired.
"Don't spend it all on candy," Mantouse advised. "And buy steel. I told you. Steel."
Click.
The line went dead. They were nineteen years old. And they were now the secret owners of an energy empire.
EPILOGUE: SIX YEARS LATER
Location: A Cramped Apartment, University District, Seistain.Status: The "Eternal Student" Era.
The room was a mess of textbooks, blueprints, and half-eaten takeout containers. The fan in the corner rattled, trying and failing to cool the humid air.
Malesh sat at a cheap wooden desk, soldering a circuit board. He wasn't wearing a tailored suit. He was wearing a faded t-shirt that said 'I survived Engineering 101'.
Kniya was lying on a mattress on the floor, throwing a tennis ball at the ceiling. He wore sweatpants and looked exhausted.
"You know," Kniya groaned, catching the ball. "For two guys who own 700 million credits worth of petroleum land and 300 million credits of Fissluation deposits... our rent is humiliatingly high."
"We are asset-rich, cash-flow neutral," Malesh mumbled, not looking up from his soldering. "Besides, if we start spending money, people will ask questions. The government still thinks those islands are barren rocks. If we buy a mansion, the tax authority investigates. If we stay here, we are just... students."
"I've been a student for six years, Malesh," Kniya sighed, sitting up. "I have a degree in Economics. A degree in Political Science. And now I'm studying Agricultural Philosophy. I am a royal family member living like a rat."
"You're a hidden operator," Malesh corrected. "The islands are safe. The deeds are in the safe deposit box. We are just... letting them appreciate in value. It's a long-term hold."
"It's a boring hold," Kniya grumbled, reaching for a cup of cold coffee. "The steel industry is booming outside. The country is getting rich. And we are sitting here studying for midterms."
Malesh finally put down the soldering iron. "We are waiting for the right moment, Kniya. We don't just want to be rich. We want to be—"
Ring. Ring.
The dusty landline phone on the floor—the one that hadn't rung in six months—suddenly screamed.
The room went deadly silent. Kniya stopped chewing his coffee cup. Malesh turned around in his chair.
They stared at the phone. Only one person had this number.
Malesh walked over and picked up the receiver.
"Speak," Malesh said, his voice dropping the 'student' act instantly.
"Hello, boys," the voice of Mantouse Adeius echoed from the past. He sounded older, but the sharp, dangerous edge was still there. "I see you haven't sold the islands yet. Good. Discipline is rare."
"We like the quiet life," Malesh said, leaning back in his creaky chair and glancing at Kniya, who was balancing a textbook on his face. "We are focusing on our education. Midterms are coming up."
There was a heavy pause on the other end of the line. The static hissed like a warning.
"Cut the act," Mantouse's voice cut through, sharp and devoid of humor. "I have a task for you. It is really important, and you need to listen to this very carefully."
Malesh sat up straighter. Kniya let the textbook slide off his face, sensing the shift in the room's atmosphere.
"The waiting period is over," Mantouse said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "The initial phase is complete. We need to meet. Tonight."
Click.
Malesh looked at Kniya.
"Midterms are cancelled," he whispered.
Season 1 :- End
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