The foreign magnates struck with fury. They funneled money into rival corporations, armed mercenaries to sabotage Draemont's holdings, and bribed officials in hopes of shattering Lucius's growing empire. To them, the city was just another market to conquer, a battlefield where wealth could outmaneuver crime.
But they underestimated the shadow they were stepping into.
Victor Draemont stood at the center of his tower, a panorama of the city stretching out before him. His eyes glinted like steel as reports arrived. "They believe themselves clever," he murmured. "They believe wealth exists outside my reach."
Silvio Marcellus set down ledgers of intercepted transactions. "Every transfer has already passed through my fingers. Their millions will never reach the rebels. Their own gold will turn traitor."
Adrian Crowe laughed as he spread documents across the table. "I have lawsuits prepared in every jurisdiction. Their banks will bleed through court orders before their mercenaries even step foot in the city."
Darius Veylan sharpened his axe with deliberate strokes, each scrape of metal like a warning. "When their mercenaries arrive, they will find no contracts, no pay, no purpose. Only their heads rolling in the gutter."
Cain Mortalis stood in silence, but his looming presence filled the chamber like a specter. The Silent Executioner's axe had already claimed ministers; it would claim foreign generals next.
Ravenna Veyra twirled her dagger between her fingers, her lips curling into a smile too wide, too hungry. "Let them come. I want their screams to echo in languages I do not yet know."
Lucius sat in his throne of shadows, crimson eyes unblinking. "They come to tame a Devil with gold. Let them choke on it."
The first wave arrived quietly. Mercenaries slipped into the city, expecting to meet allies and warehouses filled with weapons. Instead, they found doors barred, contracts vanished, and bank accounts empty. Panic spread like a plague among their ranks.
Victor moved swiftly. Rival corporations collapsed overnight as their supply lines dried. Factories once loyal to the foreigners suddenly owed their existence to Draemont, thanks to debts quietly purchased months earlier.
Adrian ensured the courts declared all foreign-owned properties forfeited. Judges, once thought neutral, signed the papers with trembling hands. The law itself declared Lucius the rightful master of their assets.
The city shifted under this pressure. Workers abandoned foreign-backed companies, flocking to Draemont-controlled enterprises where wages arrived on time and protection was guaranteed by Lucius's council.
Foreign magnates raged from afar. "Send more money, send more troops," they demanded. But their gold never reached its destination. Victor froze accounts, Silvio rerouted investments, and soon their wealth worked against them.
Darius led Enzo in striking the mercenaries who still lingered. The alleys ran red as the Butcher of Shadows carved lessons into flesh. Enzo followed, learning that hesitation meant death and loyalty meant survival.
Cain appeared where the fighting was thickest. One swing of his axe was enough to break squads, his silence more terrifying than any war cry. Those who faced him never spoke again.
Ravenna left bodies hanging from rooftops, their blood painting warnings visible for the entire city. Her laughter echoed long after she was gone, a melody of madness that made enemies crumble before blades touched them.
Victor Draemont orchestrated the economic collapse of every rival investor. Banks abroad, once eager to fund the resistance, now found themselves bankrupt, their own clients ruined by Draemont's invisible hand.
At last, foreign powers realized the truth. They had not entered a battlefield of wealth. They had entered a labyrinth, one designed by the Devil himself, with no exit but ruin.
The government, once bold in its resistance, now bowed fully. Ministers signed decrees in silence, their eyes hollow. Every law they passed seemed already owned by Adrian, every budget already drained by Victor.
Lucius walked into the parliament uninvited. The chamber fell silent. His footsteps echoed like a drumbeat of inevitability. Officials shook as he passed, his crimson gaze locking on each one until they lowered their heads.
He stopped at the center of the chamber. "You tried to fight me with pens and gold. You forgot that both bend to my will. From this day forward, your laws are my laws. Your gold is my gold. Your lives are mine to spare or to take."
No one dared to answer. The Devil had spoken, and the government bowed.
Later, in the council's chamber, Victor Draemont approached Lucius with solemnity. He placed a crown forged not of jewels but of twisted steel and melted gold before his master.
"You are the master of blood, for no blade has ever triumphed against you. You are the master of law, for Adrian bends every court to your command. And now, you are the master of wealth itself, for no coin exists outside your shadow."
The council knelt as Victor lifted the crown. "Lucius," he declared, voice heavy with awe, "you are crowned not only as our lord, but as the Devil who owns this city's soul. No law, no gold, no blood can rise against you."
Lucius accepted the crown, his crimson eyes gleaming with fire. "Wealth is not power. Wealth is chains. And tonight, I place those chains upon the world itself."
The city trembled that night. Banks whispered his name, courts spoke it in silence, and the government dared not even breathe against him. The Devil was not only master of shadows. He was master of everything.
Foreign magnates, broken and humiliated, withdrew in terror. Their letters dripped with surrender, their signatures binding them to silence.
The people no longer doubted. Blood, law, and wealth all served one master.
Lucius sat on his throne, the crown upon his brow, a cruel smile curling on his lips. "The city bows. The world watches. Let them call me Devil, for they now understand why."
But far away, beyond oceans and borders, darker whispers began. Powers far greater than bankers stirred, and soon even Victor's empire would be tested.
The Devil had claimed his crown of gold. Yet the world itself had not yet bent.