There were men who shone.
And then—
There were men who made others disappear.
Ophiroc von Wilhelm was the latter.
He did not seize attention.
He erased everything around him.
When he stepped into the room, the light did not change—
but it felt like it did.
Conversations died.
Movement slowed.
Not by command.
By presence.
Golden hair caught the chandelier's glow.
His expression was calm, almost gentle.
But behind that calm—
Weight.
The kind that bent people without touching them.
Behind him—
Something refused to yield.
A black flame burned in silence.
It gave no heat.
No light.
And yet—
No one could ignore it.
Within it stood a woman.
Elesis.
She did not need to move to be noticed.
Her stillness was enough.
Cold.
Precise.
Untouchable.
Her beauty was not inviting.
It warned.
Eyes lingered—
then snapped away.
Not out of respect.
Instinct.
Ruger, Lens, Franco, and Eit sat across from them.
Moments ago, this had been their territory.
Now—
It wasn't.
"Please," Ruger said, forcing a smile.
"Have a seat."
Tea arrived.
The finest.
No one touched it.
A guard stepped forward.
A pouch opened.
Gemstones spilled across the table.
Red.
Blue.
Green.
Perfect.
Silent.
Heavy.
The kind of wealth that didn't need counting.
"I am here," Ophiroc said, voice even,
"to discuss a partnership."
No one spoke.
"These," he added, glancing at the gems,
"are worth roughly fifty thousand gold."
A pause.
"A small advance."
Silence deepened.
Not disbelief.
Calculation.
Fifty thousand gold—
not profit, not credit—
Liquid.
Immediate.
Lens forgot to breathe.
Franco's fingers tightened.
Eit stared.
Ruger did not move.
"If even you cannot solve this," Ruger said slowly,
"what makes you think we can?"
Lens lunged forward.
"Ignore him."
"We'll do it."
"Whatever it is."
His eyes—
Were not on Ophiroc.
They were on Elesis.
Ophiroc noticed.
Of course he did.
Behind him—
The air grew colder.
A map was spread across the table.
Clean lines.
Sharp markings.
A single point.
"Here."
"A castle."
"My territory."
A beat.
"Occupied."
"By bandits?" Franco asked.
Ophiroc's smile didn't change.
"Mercenaries."
"Five hundred."
"Organized."
"Capable."
Another pause.
"And growing."
The room tightened.
This was not a job.
It was a test.
"You will take it back," Ophiroc said.
No emphasis.
No threat.
Just certainty.
"Within six months."
Ruger leaned forward slightly.
"And if we succeed?"
Ophiroc met his eyes.
And smiled.
"Then the land is yours."
"Title."
"Territory."
"Authority."
A breath.
"And I invest one hundred thousand gold into your business."
"Half ownership."
No one spoke.
Because there was nothing to say.
This was no longer opportunity.
This was elevation.
From nothing—
To something that mattered.
"Bavaria," Franco whispered.
"Yes," Ophiroc said softly.
"Bavaria."
That name settled heavily.
Not just a duchy.
A force.
A future.
Possibly—
A war.
Lens spoke, slower now.
"For someone like you…"
"We are nothing."
"Why us?"
Ophiroc leaned back.
"I saw your fight."
"At the Oak Grove."
A faint smile.
"You are inefficient."
A pause.
"But interesting."
He tapped the table lightly.
"More importantly—"
"You understand people."
"Ruling a nation," he continued,
"is no different from running a shop."
"Both rely on the same thing."
A beat.
"Desire."
Silence held.
Then he added—
"Life is short."
"Wine should be fine."
"Swords should be legendary."
"And when you compete—"
His gaze flicked, just slightly—
"To win something worth the cost."
"Now," he said quietly,
"The opportunity is in front of you."
"Take it."
Something ignited.
Not courage.
Not greed.
Something worse.
Ruger stood.
Slowly.
He met Ophiroc's gaze.
Held it.
Even as it pressed back.
"I'm in."
Franco exhaled.
"If you die," he said dryly,
"I'll collect your money."
Lens grinned.
"For something worth chasing—"
"I'll go."
Eit sat down—
The chair broke beneath him with a sharp crack.
He froze.
"…I agree."
Ophiroc stood.
"Good."
He turned to leave.
But—
Elesis didn't move.
She looked at them.
Fully.
The world—
Stopped.
Their bodies locked.
Air vanished.
Thought stalled.
A black flame flickered.
Then—
They were lifted.
Effortlessly.
Invisible force tightening around their bones.
"You are weak," she said.
Cold.
Flat.
"Less than insects."
A pause.
Then—
"You looked at me."
The pressure increased.
Ribs creaked.
Air broke from their lungs.
A massive force formed above—
And came down.
Impact.
The floor cracked.
Pain exploded through muscle and bone.
They hit hard.
Not dead.
Not whole.
Elesis turned.
Left.
The flame lingered a moment longer—
Then vanished.
Silence remained.
Heavy.
Time passed.
Breath returned.
Slowly.
"…Why did you agree?" Eit asked.
Ruger wiped blood from his lip.
"He's power."
"A real one."
A pause.
"This doesn't come twice."
"And if it's a trap?" Franco asked.
Ruger shrugged.
"Then we survive it."
"Or we don't."
Simple.
Brutal.
Enough.
"We build a company," Franco said.
No one disagreed.
Money moved.
Men gathered.
Thirty at first.
Then more.
Weapons.
Armor.
Horses.
A force—
Small.
But real.
A name was chosen.
After argument.
Shouting.
Bad decisions.
"Dragon and Beauty."
Franco lost that vote.
Badly.
Then—
Reality arrived.
No intelligence.
No numbers.
No layout.
No command structure.
Two scouts sent.
Neither returned.
Silence changed.
This time—
It carried weight.
Ruger looked at the map.
Then at the others.
"We go ourselves."
No one objected.
Because they understood—
This had already begun.
And far away—
In a place where time did not move—
Something else had heard the call.
Floya moved.
Not wandering.
Hunting.
END OF PART 9