The desert stretched endlessly, golden and indifferent. From above, it looked like nothing but sand and sun, but beneath the dunes, empires were quietly bleeding.
Yug Bhati stepped off the helicopter, green coat catching the early morning light, black bracelet glinting faintly. In his hand, a pistol rested casually, though it had not yet seen action. He didn't need it. Contracts, signatures, and leverage were far deadlier.
The Middle Eastern oil ministry building rose ahead — gleaming towers of glass and steel — but Yug didn't come to admire architecture. He came to claim 10% of the region's oil refineries. Not through fire. Not through guns. But through a chain of legal maneuvers, financial coercion, and strategic alliances that would make generals and kings blink.
---
The Game Begins
Two years earlier, Yug had been just a genius from India, educated and underestimated. While other tycoons relied on brute force and political connections, Yug had studied the hidden veins of power — supply chains, refinery ledgers, shipping manifests, and corporate loopholes. By the time he set foot in Riyadh, he already knew how much oil each refinery produced, which ministers were greedy, and which contractors could be persuaded — or coerced — into signing away a fraction of their profits.
Inside the ministry, Yug's contact awaited: a smarmy executive with ties to five of the largest refineries. Yug smiled thinly. He didn't need to raise his voice. A few key phrases about "strategic partnership" and "mutual liquidity", a whisper about "foreign sanctions" and "delayed payments," and the executive's resolve melted like wax in the desert sun.
By noon, contracts were signed. On paper, Yug was merely a partner. In reality, he controlled 10% of all refinery profits across the region. Every barrel exported, every dollar of premium, flowed first through Yug's meticulously crafted chain of shell companies. The ministries still owned the towers. The workers still pumped oil. But the lifeblood of the empire — the money — flowed into Yug's hands.
---
The First Taste of Power
He stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the sprawling refinery fields. The sun glittered off the oil tanks like a treasure trove. Yug lit a cigar and exhaled smoke slowly, watching the world bend without a single shot fired.
It wasn't just money. It was control. It was leverage over markets, governments, and even other syndicate members. And for the first time, Yug understood the full weight of his ambition: he could take kingdoms without armies. He could bend continents with contracts.
The black bracelet on his wrist caught the sunlight. It wasn't just an accessory. It was the symbol of a new world order — a world that he would one day dominate.
---
Foreshadowing the Syndicate
As Yug flew back on his private jet, contracts secured in digital ledgers across three continents, a single encrypted message pinged on his secure tablet:
"Welcome to the Vulture. — Omar Bin Latif"
The message was short. Unforgiving. Promising.
Yug smiled. He wasn't just rich now. He was part of the game. And in this game, the world would bend before the one who knew how to pull the right strings first.