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The common hall of the Willson Guild, which had been suffocating under a blanket of defeat, was now frozen in a new kind of silence.

The senior members, who moments ago were slumped in despair, sat bolt upright, their eyes wide, staring at the man who had just invited himself to their funeral.

Victor Arkwright, oblivious or perhaps, feeding on the tension, looked around the hall with a bright, appraising gaze.

He saw worn tables, a near-empty mission board, and the faces of hunters who hadn't seen a decent payday in months.

'Showtime,' I thought, taking a deliberately slow sip of my now-cold tea from the corner of the room. I had to physically restrain the smirk that threatened to crawl across my face. Victor was playing his part to perfection.

The suit was immaculate, a sharp contrast to the guild's scuffed leather.

The energy he radiated was manic, a whirlwind of Arcadia City confidence. He was a shark in a pond of very tired, very confused goldfish.

My father, Darius, was the first to recover. His hunter's instincts, honed by decades of facing down beasts, kicked in.

He didn't see a consultant; he saw a threat, or at the very least, a con artist. His hand instinctively rested on the hilt of the short-sword he always wore at his hip.

"I don't know who you are, sir," Darius said, his voice a low, warning growl. "But we're not hiring. And we're not interested in whatever you're selling. Please leave."

Victor let out a loud, booming laugh that seemed to shake the dust from the faded guild banner. "Hiring? Mr. Willson, I'm not here looking for a job. I'm here to give you one. A new job... at being successful!"

He strode past the stunned guild members, pulling a chair from a nearby table, spinning it around, and sitting backwards on it, leaning his arms over the chair-back. It was a gesture of pure, calculated arrogance, designed to disarm and dominate the room.

"Victor Arkwright," he said again, tapping his temple.

"CEO of Aegis Holdings. Maybe you've heard of me? No? Doesn't matter. You will."

He pulled a crystal slate from his inner jacket pocket. With a flick of his wrist, a holographic projection lit up the dim hall, displaying the Willson Guild's faded emblem and a dizzying array of declining red numbers.

"Your guild. Willson. Rank: Silver-3," Victor began, his voice shifting from charming to sharp, like a surgeon opening a patient.

"Established twenty-two years ago. Strong local reputation, good fundamentals, a respected Guild Master." He gestured at my father.

"But you're dying. You're bleeding out, and you've been doing it for six months. The question is, why?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He tapped the slate, and the projection changed. "You're inefficient. Your contract acquisition is passive. Your resource management is... antique."

A few of the senior hunters bristled. "See here—"

"But that's not the real reason," Victor cut them off, his voice dropping.

"The real reason... is pressure." He looked around the room, a conspiratorial glint in his eye.

"Specifically, pressure from a little guild called the Iron Vipers."

A heavy silence fell. He had just named the source of their misery

"How... how did you know that?" my mother, Lilly, asked, her voice small.

"It's my business to know," Victor said, beaming.

"My firm, Aegis Holdings, tracks the movements of every minor and major guild. And my data says the Iron Vipers are bidding on contracts at a 40% loss. They're not competing with you, Mr. Willson. They're executing you. They're bleeding you dry, planning to pick your bones clean and buy this hall for pennies on the Ren."

He leaned in. "The real question isn't how you survive. It's who is funding the Iron Vipers to take such massive, sustained losses, just to see you fall?"

'Good, Victor,' I thought, sipping my tea. 'Plant the seed.' It wasn't just a local spat. It was a proxy war.

I had already confirmed through victor network that the Vipers were getting anonymous funding from an account linked to a Belnic family subsidiary.

Magnus Daven's faction was cleaning house, extending their reach even here. By making my family feel cornered by a larger, unseen enemy, Victor wasn't just offering help; he was offering salvation.

"That's our guild's private business," a new voice cut in, cold and sharp.

I inwardly sighed. Marcus.

My older brother had been standing silently in the shadow of the stairwell, observing.

He now stepped into the light, his arms crossed. His C+ rank aura, amplified by his cultivator's perception, felt like a spike of cold steel in the room.

He wasn't charmed by Victor's fast talk or intimidated by his data. His eyes were narrowed, his gaze analytical.

"You still haven't answered the most basic question," Marcus said, his voice unnervingly calm.

"You're from Arcadia. Aegis Holdings. A big city firm. What do you care about a small-time guild war in Selorn?"

The room tensed. This was the real challenge. Darius was skeptical of the deal; Marcus was skeptical of the man. His reincarnated soul could likely sense that Victor wasn't just a simple consultant.

Victor's smile didn't falter, but I saw his eyes sharpen. He recognized the true hurdle in the room. He turned his charisma from my father to my brother.

"Sharp. Very sharp. I see the talent runs deep in the Willson family."

He gave a respectful nod.

"You're right. I don't give a damn about your local spat. I care about potential. I care about opportunity."

He tapped his slate again.

"My firm, Aegis Holdings, believes the regional guild market is criminally undervalued. The Diamond-grade guilds are fighting over S-Rank dungeons in the capital, spending billions to kill each other for prestige. They've left the C and D-Rank territories—the bread and butter of this entire industry—wide open."

He stood up, pacing like a caged panther.

"I'm not here to save a failing guild. I'm here to invest in an asset. I'm looking for a local partner with deep roots, a solid reputation, and experienced hunters. A guild that, with the right capital injection and strategic guidance, can become the new power in this region."

Darius scoffed, a bitter sound.

"Invest? With what? We're drowning in debt, Mr. Arkwright. We have nothing to offer an investor."

"Debt," Victor waved his hand dismissively, as if swatting a fly.

"Debt is just a number. A temporary inconvenience. It can be... erased."

He stopped pacing and looked my father dead in the eye. The manic energy was gone, replaced by a sudden, heavy seriousness.

"I'm not asking you for money, Guild Master Willson. I'm offering it."

He held up one finger. "Aegis Holdings is prepared to pay off your guild's entire outstanding debt. All of it. The 95 million Ren you owe to the Merchant's Bank and the various private lenders. Wiped clean. Today."

Silence

.

It was absolute. My mother's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with disbelief.

The senior members who had been arguing over scraps just minutes before stared, mouths agape.

Even Marcus's stoic composure cracked, his eyes widening slightly. 95 million Ren. It wasn't just a lifeline; it was a resurrection.

Darius was the most affected. He visibly swayed, his calloused hand gripping the back of a chair for support.

The weight of that number had been crushing him for months. To hear it spoken so casually...

"Why?" Darius's voice was a hoarse whisper. "No one does that for free. What's... what's the catch?"

Victor's predatory grin returned, his objective clearly in sight.

"The catch is simple," he said smoothly. "I want shares. 40% ownership of the Willson Guild. And... I want a strategic partnership."

Marcus's suspicion returned instantly.

"Forty percent? You want to own us. And a partnership with who? Your invisible firm?"

"Not invisible," Victor countered, tapping his slate one last time.

"A guild just like yours. Ambitious, growing, and in need of reliable partners to manage their lower-rank missions and expand their resource lines. An Arcadia-based guild that has recently come into significant new funding."

A new logo appeared on the holographic display, one that was becoming increasingly familiar in Arcadia's mercenary circles.

The emblem of a rising sun cresting a jagged horizon.

"A guild called... The Dawn."

I hid my smile behind my teacup and... checkmate. Victor had seamlessly linked my two investments, creating a perfect, self-sustaining loop.

The Willson Guild gets its debt erased, and Aegis Holdings (me) gets 40% ownership. The Dawn Guild (also partially me) gets a trusted local partner, justifying the investment and Victor gets to be the hero, all while being paid handsomely for his time.

The room was buzzing now. The Dawn Guild? An Arcadia guild? Allied with them?

Darius looked overwhelmed. His debt, gone. An alliance. It was too much, too fast.

He looked at Lilly, who was staring at Victor with something like desperate hope. He looked at his senior members, who were already whispering excitedly.

He looked at Marcus.

My brother held his gaze for a long time. His face was a mask of calculation. 40% was steep, a bitter price to pay.

It meant giving up a massive chunk of their family's legacy. But 95 million... that wasn't a debt they could ever repay on their own.

This wasn't a choice; it was an execution or a pardon

Finally, Marcus gave a single, stiff nod.

Darius let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for months. He turned back to Victor, his face aged but his eyes clear for the first time.

"...We need to see the contract. Every line."

Victor clapped his hands, his charismatic energy returning in full force.

"But of course! I happen to have it right here!" He pulled a pre-written, magically-sealed contract from his briefcase.

"Standard partnership clauses, investment terms fully detailed, and," he tapped a specific line, "a non-interference clause. You, Darius Willson, retain full operational control as Guild Master. I just sit on the board and make sure my investment is invested where it grow and yours guild growth is my investment."

He placed the contract on the table. It lay there, a beacon of impossible hope in the gloomy hall.

Darius looked at it, then at his wife, then at Marcus, and finally, his gaze drifted across the room and landed on me, his youngest son, sitting quietly in the corner.

I met his gaze and offered a small, encouraging, "looks-like-a-good-deal-to-me" shrug, playing my part as the clueless but supportive son.

My father turned back to Victor. "…We'll review this. Tonight. We'll give you our answer in the morning."

"Excellent!" Victor stood, smoothing his suit jacket. "I'll be at the Selorn Grand Hotel. Take your time. Make the smart decision."

He gave a charming, two-fingered salute to the room, winked (almost imperceptibly) in my direction, and strolled out of the guild hall, leaving a stunned, electrified silence in his wake.

_________________

The moment the door clicked shut, the hall exploded.

"Is he serious?! 95 million!"

"

(To be continued)

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