The Northern Guild headquarters was a fortress of black stone and arrogance. Kian had never been inside. Couldn't. The doors had Rank-S authentication wards that would've fried his F-Rank ass into charcoal six months ago.
Now?
He walked right through the front door. The wards flickered. Stuttered. Threw up a red error message that died before it finished loading.
[SYSTEM ERROR: USER RANK CONFLICT.]
[RESOLVING...]
[RESOLVING...]
[ERROR: RESOLUTION FAILED. OVERRIDDEN.]
The guards at the door didn't even see him. Not because he was hiding. Because they were too busy watching the hallway, watching for threats from outside, not from some kid in scavenger rags walking past them like he paid rent here.
Arrogance, Kian thought. That's what kills people like this. Walls so thick they forget to look at what's already inside.
He found the war room by following the shouting.
"three enforcers! Three! Two of them are still in the infirmary with their faces caved in!"
Kian leaned against the doorway. Peeked inside.
Big table. Bigger egos. Seven Guild Masters, plus their lackeys. The holographic display in the center showed a map of the city with red dots spreading out like a rash.
Red dots for his items. The chestplates. The skill books. The potions. All of it bleeding into the market, crashing prices, making these bastards sweat.
"We've seized seventeen counterfeit items this week alone," a woman was saying. Sharp cheekbones. Silver hair. High Inquisitor or some such bullshit. "All of them perfect replicas. No detectable difference from the originals."
"They're not replicas," a Guild Master growled. Big man. Beard. Scar across his nose. "That's the problem. They're identical. Down to the microscopic flaws in the metal. Whoever's doing this isn't forging anything. They're copying."
"Duplication," someone else whispered. "That's the only explanation. Some kind of System exploit."
The room went quiet.
Kian smiled in the darkness.
"Exploit," the High Inquisitor said slowly, "implies a bug. A flaw in the code. If someone found a way to bypass Soul-Binding, to duplicate Unique items..."
She didn't finish. Didn't need to.
"The Emperor will kill us all," Beard finished for her. "If he finds out we let something like this happen under our noses, he won't just remove us. He'll remove our bloodlines. Our holdings. Our,"
"Your everything." Kian stepped into the light.
Seven Guild Masters. Twelve enforcers. All of them turned to look at him.
The silence that followed was beautiful.
"Who the fuck," Beard started.
"The System exploit," Kian said. He walked toward the table like he'd been invited. Like he belonged there. "You're looking at him."
The High Inquisitor's hand went to her blade. "Guards,"
"Won't matter." Kian pulled out a chair. Sat down. Put his boots on the table. "You've got, what, twenty people in this room? All of them S-Rank or higher. All of them armed. All of them trained."
He spread his hands. Smiled.
"I've got a glitch and no respect for authority. You wanna see who wins that fight?"
Nobody moved.
The holographic map flickered. Cast weird shadows across their faces. Kian counted the micro-expressions, fear, confusion, calculation. These people weren't warriors. They were merchants. Bankers. People who'd never been threatened in their own house before.
"I'm not here to kill anyone," he said. "If I was, you'd already be dead."
Beard's voice came out strangled. "Then what do you want?"
Kian leaned forward. Pulled his boots off the table. Put his elbows on the polished wood like he was negotiating a street deal.
"I want you to understand something. The System you've been using to keep everyone under your boot? It's broken. I broke it. And I'm not gonna stop breaking it until there's nothing left but rubble and fucking freedom."
"You're insane," the High Inquisitor said. But her hand had stopped moving toward her sword.
"Probably." He shrugged. "But I'm also the only person in this room who can walk out of here without asking permission. So here's how this is gonna work."
He stood up. The chair scraped against the floor. The sound made half of them flinch.
"You're gonna stop hunting Mags. You're gonna stop executing fences. You're gonna let the market do whatever it's gonna do, and you're gonna keep your fucking mouths shut about where the items are coming from."
"And if we don't?" Beard's voice cracked. He hated that. Kian could see it in his eyes.
"Then I stop selling armor and start selling weapons." He looked around the room. Let his gaze linger on each face. "I can make a thousand copies of the God-Slaying Sword. Ten thousand. Enough to arm every beggar in the city. You want to explain to the Emperor why his precious Unique artifacts are suddenly worth less than dog shit?"
Nobody spoke.
Kian walked toward the door. Stopped at the threshold. Looked back over his shoulder.
"You've been on top so long you forgot what the bottom looks like. I didn't. I grew up there. And now?" He grinned. "I'm bringing the bottom with me."
He left them standing in the war room, staring at each other, staring at the map, staring at the empty chair where he'd been sitting.
On his way out, he passed the two front guards. They still didn't see him.
Arrogance.
He was counting on it.