The following morning, the sun climbed over the glittering skyline of Tokyo, reflecting against the glass spires of the Arima Tower, the headquarters of the vast Arima Zaibatsu. Inside its uppermost floors, the air was thick with quiet reverence. For in these halls, decisions were made that shaped markets, toppled rivals, and bent governments to the will of one man: Isshin Arima, the Eighth Campione.
Today, however, Isshin had chosen not to sit in the chair of an executive. He had installed himself instead as Chief Commissioner, a figure above the board, a master who watched while others carried out his will. In his place, Sebas, the steward turned Blood Servant, had been appointed as the new President Director. His aura of youth and vitality, newly gifted by Isshin's ritual, filled the office like a blazing furnace. Where once had stood an old butler, there was now a commander worthy of leading a corporate empire.
When Isshin entered the boardroom that morning, Sebas rose and bowed. "My lord, allow me to present to you our newest asset—your secretary and maid."
The doors opened, and a girl stepped in. She was delicate in appearance yet composed, dressed in the tailored uniform of the Arima staff. Her name was Yuu Fujikura, and her wide dark eyes betrayed both innocence and sharp intelligence.
Isshin's gaze fell upon her, piercing and unrelenting. "Sebas… explain her."
Sebas inclined his head. "She is eighteen years of age, taken from the orphanage established by the Arima Foundation. From childhood, she displayed extraordinary talents—an IQ that outstrips most scholars, flawless memory retention, and a natural instinct for both finance and administration. I personally oversaw her training, ensuring not only her competence but her absolute loyalty to the Arima family."
Yuu bowed deeply, her voice soft yet firm. "It is my honor to serve you, Lord Arima."
Isshin studied her in silence, his expression unreadable. The aura of a Campione radiated faintly from his form, and Yuu's heart pounded as though caught between awe and terror. Finally, a rare smile curved Isshin's lips. "Excellent. Loyalty born of foundation and forged by Sebas's hand… then you belong here."
Relief swept across Yuu's face, though she dared not show more than a restrained smile. At Isshin's signal, she was dismissed from the room, her steps quiet as she left to begin her duties.
The moment the door closed behind Yuu, Isshin turned to Sebas. His eyes gleamed with a sharper light, like daggers glinting in darkness. "Now… tell me of Yurika Ichijou. What has she done in the shadows?"
Sebas's tone was calm but edged with disdain. "As you foresaw, my lord, Yurika has grown desperate. She conspires to flee abroad with her father, siphoning funds from their company's reserves. Those reserves, however, no longer belong to them, as Ichijou Corporation was absorbed by Arima Zaibatsu. This theft is nothing short of betrayal."
Isshin leaned back, fingers steepled beneath his chin. "And the lover?"
"Yes," Sebas continued, "she intends to escape with her secret paramour, Yuusuke Takui. They planned to rendezvous on a flight leaving this very morning. I placed trackers on them as you commanded. They are already aboard the aircraft."
For a moment, silence reigned. Then Isshin's lips curved into a cruel smile. His laughter was soft but terrible, a sound that chilled the very air in the boardroom. "How amusing. Did they truly believe they could escape the sight of a Campione?"
His hand hovered in the air, and the invisible brand he had placed upon Yurika flared to life across continents. He could see her in his mind's eye, seated within the aircraft cabin, clutching her father's hand, clinging to her illusion of freedom. The brand glowed faintly against her chest, unseen by mortal eyes but blazing in Isshin's vision.
He whispered into the void, his voice carried directly into her soul: "Sayonara, Yurika."
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At thirty thousand feet, Yurika's heart lurched. Her chest burned with searing light as she gasped, clawing at herself in horror. Her father cried out in confusion, passengers screamed, but it was already too late.
The brand erupted.
A blinding flash consumed the cabin, and in an instant Yurika's body detonated in a violent burst of divine energy. The explosion tore through the aircraft, shattering metal, flame devouring the fuselage. Screams were cut short as fire engulfed the skies, scattering wreckage across the clouds.
From his office, Isshin felt the echo of her death. He closed his eyes briefly, savoring it like the taste of rare wine. Then he opened them, dark and cold, and his laughter thundered through the walls of Arima Tower.
"That is the price," he declared, "for betrayal against me. No traitor, no thief, no coward shall ever escape judgment."
Sebas stood silently, neither flinching nor questioning. His loyalty was absolute; he understood the necessity of terror as much as mercy.
Isshin rose from his seat, gazing out the window at the city below—the empire of glass, steel, and commerce that bent to his will. "And as for the funds they sought to steal…" His grin widened. "Arima Corporation's web reaches far beyond their pitiful schemes. Every yen they touched will be traced, every account bled dry, and all will return to me. Their rebellion dies not only in flesh but in fortune."
The room fell into silence once more, broken only by Isshin's laughter. It was a sound both triumphant and terrifying, the laughter of a man who wielded powers stolen from gods and empires alike. The Eighth Campione had no rivals—only pawns, tools, and sacrifices.
Below, in the heart of Tokyo, the wheels of commerce turned, unaware that their true master had already secured absolute dominion. In the shadows of his tower, Isshin Arima stood as both king and executioner.
And so, another day passed in the empire of Arima Zaibatsu—where loyalty was rewarded, betrayal annihilated, and the laughter of its sovereign echoed endlessly through the corridors of power.