Season 3 chapter 42
The Thirty-Trillion-Credit Invoice
Salesh, who was leaning against the heavy tires of their off-road steam-truck, let out a low whistle. "That is an incredibly solid geopolitical maneuver. Buying out the government's war crimes and rebranding them as corporate philanthropy."
"Exactly," Kniya grinned, his street-smart capitalist ego inflating to massive proportions. He clapped his hands together. "We buy the dirt, we build the houses, we tell the King to go fuck himself! It's perfect! So, agent... what would be the exact cost of buying all that piece of land? Because we are talking about buying every single piece of property present in all the religious cities across the entire country."
The agent casually reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, crumpled notepad. He flipped it open and checked a number.
"It is approximately around 30 trillion credits," the agent stated flatly.
The Antovian desert went dead silent. The wind seemed to physically stop blowing.
"What?" Kniya whispered, all the blood completely draining from his face.
"30 trillion credits," the agent repeated, slipping the notepad back into his pocket. "And honestly, I don't know how you are going to gather this much amount of money. It is entirely up to you how you are going to deal with it. I am not responsible for your liquidity. But if you don't secure that land, our culture is going to completely collapse."
Kniya's jaw literally unhinged.
"Oh, fuck!" Kniya screamed at the top of his lungs, grabbing his own hair in absolute panic. "30 trillion credits?! Are you out of your fucking mind?! That is not a real estate transaction! That is the GDP of an entire continent! Where the fuck am I supposed to find thirty trillion credits in cash?!"
"You literally bragged about being the richest man in the Republic ten minutes ago," Filoska pointed out dryly.
"I am cash-rich, not buy-thirty-cities-at-once rich!" Kniya roared, pacing furiously in the sand.
The Data Standoff
Kniya aggressively spun around, pointing a shaking finger directly at the agent's chest. His embarrassment instantly morphed into aggressive, defensive hostility.
"You know what?!" Kniya yelled. "You told me that you have the data of my organization! You claim you have spies in my Seistain office and you know all of my plans! Well, you know one thing? I also have some very, very suspicious data about your organization!"
The agent paused, his eyebrows raising in genuine surprise. He crossed his arms, looking at Kniya with a challenging stare.
"Oh, really?" the agent asked, his voice dropping into a cool, serious tone. "What do you have about my organization and about me?"
Kniya puffing out his chest, ready to unleash a massive, fabricated corporate threat—
"Okay, can you guys please stop talking shit?!" Malesh snapped, violently cutting Kniya off.
Malesh stepped directly between Kniya and the intelligence operative, his deadpan expression radiating absolute exhaustion. He glared at Kniya, entirely unamused by the childish measuring contest.
"Kniya, do not invent federal conspiracies just because you are intimidated by a thirty-trillion-credit invoice," Malesh scolded coldly. "We do not have the time for your ego."
Malesh turned to the operative, adjusting his tailored cuffs with absolute, terrifying resolve. The hesitation was completely gone.
"Okay," Malesh stated, his dark eyes locking onto the agent. "We will find the capital. We will try to buy the land. And we will kill the people on this list to avenge the deaths of the innocent people who died in this war."
The Operational Risk
The blistering Antovian wind whipped sand against the rusted legs of the water tower. The intelligence operative from GLEB stared down the two most dangerous billionaires in the Republic, the thick assassination dossier still resting in Malesh's hands.
"There is one more thing that I have to tell you before you can actually start your counter-offensive," the operative stated, his voice cutting through the howl of the desert wind. "And that is, you need to restart your operations. Immediately. I am talking about your steel foundries and your oil refineries across the country."
Malesh's dark eyes narrowed into cold, tactical slits.
"We cannot," Malesh stated flatly. "There is a massive operational risk. We already faced a huge amount of casualties in our hubs. I cannot legally or logically restart those facilities without actively putting my own people in the crosshairs of another royal bombing run."
"I know about this thing very well," the operative replied, nodding grimly. "We know the Royal Family was involved in the bombings. They sent their own shadow agents to plant the explosives. But whatever the risk is, you have to turn the machines back on. If the operations won't start, the inflation is going to rise and rise again. The cost of living will skyrocket, encouraging the civilians to become even more desperate and angry. It will entirely add more fuel to the fire, and the civil war will become unstoppable."
Filoska stepped forward, her expensive coat snapping in the wind. "He is right, Malesh. If Kavilson Steel and Malesh Energy stay offline, the Republic's infrastructure bleeds out. But we can't just send our workers back to the slaughter."
"How are we going to do this thing?" Kniya demanded, crossing his arms aggressively. "We are businessmen, not a standing army. I can't put an armed guard on every single steel worker on the continent."
"You won't have to," the operative revealed smoothly. "I have already contacted a private foreign army to secure and protect your massive industrial refineries in Sulwadiya. They are mobilizing as we speak to ensure you can restart your extraction operations just in time."
Salesh, leaning against the heavy tires of the steam-truck, let out a low whistle. "A foreign army? How did an underfunded intelligence agency afford that?"
"Favors," the operative muttered cryptically. "But in DI, we have a different protocol. I have formed a special unit of the special forces to help in the domestic country. They are completely off the grid and are not directly under the command of the President. We can order them to protect your steel sites here in the Republic. So don't worry."
The G36 Initiative
Kniya stared at the operative, his street-smart paranoia flaring up. This guy was orchestrating foreign military contracts, domestic shadow-units, and national regime changes, all while dressed like a guy who just got off a shift at a hardware store.
"What is your fucking name?" Kniya demanded, stepping closer. "You are not telling me anything about yourself. You are such a smart, highly suspicious guy. At least tell me your actual name."
"Why do I need to tell you that?" the operative replied, completely deadpan. "It is legally and literally not required for this transaction."
Kniya's eye twitched. "Okay, fine. Keep your secrets. Just tell me the name of this highly classified secret unit you have formed."
"I am also not going to tell you the identities of the commanders," the operative shot back. "Well, to help you along with this massive operation, I have formed a special unit named G36. They are going to help you with the whole plan, and they will protect your assets in DI and in other countries as well."
The operative paused, looking between the four billionaires.
"G36 consists of defecting military units, intelligence agency officers, and several honest civilians, government employees, and politicians," the operative explained. "They will help you in taking down these ass-licking, corrupt ministers, and the ruthless, degenerate animals currently present in the military. Together, we are going to clear the board so that we can have a regime change in the country."
Kniya blinked, genuinely caught off guard. "What? What are you saying?"
"We are going to replace the President," the operative stated, his voice absolute iron. "It is definitely required. We cannot allow a person like him, a man who literally destroys his own culture for some money, to be the President of the country."
Kniya aggressively popped a fresh piece of mint gum into his mouth, his capitalist gears instantly turning. "Replacing a sitting President is a logistical nightmare! Do you have any idea how much it costs to bribe a federal election committee these days? The inflation on political corruption is absolutely staggering! I am not funding a grassroots campaign!"
"It won't be an election," the operative replied coldly.
The operative looked away, staring out into the endless desert.
"Well, he is exactly... well, I know the real reason," the operative corrected quietly. "He is not doing this entirely for the money. There is another reason, but that is not very important to tell you right now. But yeah, he is definitely not doing that just for the rare-earth metals. Just know this thing: he has some deeply personal affair, a vendetta related to the religion itself."
Filoska frowned, exchanging a worried glance with Salesh. A corrupt politician was one thing; a fanatic with the federal army at his disposal was a nightmare.
"And regarding the execution," the operative concluded, turning back to them. "Just know one thing. This G36 group is going to help you along with the killings on that list. We are going to have a regime change. We are going to implement this thing permanently."