The next morning, the city outside was still half-asleep, veiled in the faint haze of dawn and neon reflections that refused to fade. From the highest floor of the Caelum Syndicate's headquarters, Novaeus sat on a lavish sofa behind his custom-made desk — a surface of darkened steel and tempered glass, embedded with faint circuits that pulsed dimly like veins of light. The office around him was silent, sterile, and efficient, a monument of order amidst the chaos of Macao below.
He sat still, eyes closed, hands interlaced loosely, the very image of composed authority. Around him, countless holograms shimmered to life and died again, projections of data shifting in and out of existence — stock indices, shipping manifests, schematics of weapons, and coded communications — all orchestrated by EIDEN.
This was one of the latest upgrades to the building, an extension of his vision. One of the lower floors had been completely transformed into a massive server room filled with high-performance machines, the hum of their cooling systems faintly perceptible even through reinforced walls. Every server, every cable, every processor was built internally — manufactured, assembled, and coded by their own hands. Nothing external was trusted. Even the software was written by EIDEN's countless subroutines and Novaeus's personal oversight.
It was efficiency shaped into steel. A fortress not of concrete and guns, but of information.
Then — a sound disrupted the calm.
A soft, hurried knock on the heavy office doors.
Novaeus didn't move at first. He let the moment linger, his expression unreadable. Then, without opening his eyes, he said, "Enter."
The door slid open. Adrian stepped inside, sweat forming across his forehead despite the cold air conditioning. His face carried an edge of alarm, the kind that only came when something truly important had gone wrong.
"Sir," he said immediately, not waiting for acknowledgement. "There is an emergency. One of our cargo ships was attacked by pirates near Indonesian waters. The ship was sunk — we lost the cargo."
Silence hung heavy in the room.
Novaeus opened his eyes slowly, the light from the holograms catching in them like glints of sharpened glass. His voice was calm, dangerously calm. "Have you investigated the cause?"
"We're on it, sir," Adrian said, trying to steady his voice. "Initial analysis points to bad luck. That region is notorious for piracy. However…" He hesitated, looking briefly toward the floor before continuing, "there are signs it was coordinated. Multiple small crafts converged on the target at the same time, with military precision. It was too organized to be random."
Novaeus's fingers tapped once on the armrest of his sofa. "I see," he murmured.
He didn't look angry. He rarely did. When Novaeus was calm, his subordinates knew to be careful — calm was his most dangerous state.
"What other news?" he asked simply.
Adrian cleared his throat and began listing off his report. "The recycling plant rollout for other cities has been approved. We were welcomed by most municipalities. The offer to manage their waste at a lower price than current providers was too good for them to refuse. We've already begun contracts with several urban centers. The plants will be operational within the next two months."
He paused briefly, collecting his notes before continuing, "Additionally, the anti-balding treatment under Ascension Tech's pharmaceutical line has been a massive success. Market penetration exceeded expectations. Despite being priced five times above production cost, sales have been consistent. Public feedback is overwhelmingly positive. It's… frankly printing money, sir."
Novaeus nodded slightly, unimpressed but satisfied.
Adrian continued, the tone of his voice shifting slightly. "However, there have been… minor disruptions. The gangs from the Golden Triangle have started snooping again. They've been hit hard by the reduction of drug smuggling through their routes. Since we control nearly all major pathways now, their profits have dropped significantly. They've been probing our operations — small attacks, sabotage attempts, and harassment of our convoys. There were a few incidents involving our trucks, but our security teams handled them. Minimal losses. No public exposure."
Novaeus exhaled softly, his gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the walls of the office. "Double the security on all smuggling routes," he ordered. "Eliminate anyone caught snooping — no negotiations, no warnings. If these attacks were random, they would've stopped by now. This is planned, though poorly executed. Someone's testing us."
Adrian nodded quickly.
"Good," Novaeus continued, leaning forward slightly. "Make sure the new recycling plants are fully operational within schedule. And start looking for a dock — I'm done buying outdated ships. We'll build our own fleet from now on."
Adrian blinked, momentarily taken aback. "You mean… shipbuilding, sir?"
"Yes," Novaeus said. "Tell Ascension Tech to roll out the construction exoskeleton project. I don't care if the market isn't ready or if no one buys it. It was never meant for them anyway. We'll use it for ourselves. Deliver refined metal from the recycling plants to Ascension's fabrication division. They'll use it to build a dry dock, then our ships. Once the dock is operational, expand it to include assembly lines for aircraft and vehicles. I don't intend to find new ground once the expansion begins. Everything we need should be under one sky."
Adrian scribbled notes furiously on his pad, though he knew most of what was being said would already be recorded by EIDEN anyway.
"Understood, sir," Adrian replied. "I'll coordinate with Marco. We'll double the guards and oversee the new logistics routes personally." He hesitated again before adding, "Also, this came in today — an invitation. A grand auction, exclusive to the elite. Julian managed to secure a slot for you. Only the most powerful are invited, and he thought it might be of interest."
Novaeus was quiet for a few seconds, weighing the thought in silence. "An auction…" he murmured, eyes narrowing slightly. "Fine. Let's see what they think is worth selling. Prepare the cars and my bodyguards."
"Yes, sir," Adrian said, turning to leave.
"Wait."
Adrian froze mid-step.
"Make sure I have at least five enhanced operatives with me," Novaeus continued. "I have a feeling something's moving in the shadows. I'd rather be ready if the night turns lively."
"Understood. I'll make the preparations at once."
When Adrian left, the office fell silent once again. The hum of the servers returned — a deep, steady pulse of machinery, like the heartbeat of a giant beneath the floor.
Novaeus leaned back in his chair, eyes half-closed once more. The light of the city filtered in through the reinforced glass walls. He was still, but his mind was anything but calm.
"EIDEN," he said finally.
"Yes, my Lord," came the reply — smooth, synthetic, but carrying an eerie cadence of intelligence that was almost human.
"Investigate the recent attacks. Track every thread. I want the culprits mapped before sunset."
"Yes, my Lord. Initiating multi-vector trace across maritime and communication networks. I will compile all associated data and identify patterns."
"Good. You'll accompany me tonight," Novaeus continued. "Same procedure as usual — stay within my glasses. Deploy the nanobot cluster. I want it morph-capable and ready for immediate engagement."
"Understood. Nanobot sequence online. Morphic readiness at ninety-eight percent. All defensive subroutines primed," EIDEN responded.
Novaeus gave a faint nod. "Proceed."
The day moved forward quietly. Reports trickled in, meetings came and went, and through it all, Novaeus remained in control — precise, methodical, efficient. Every decision he made rippled outward through the organization like clockwork gears shifting in perfect synchronization.
By late afternoon, the sun had begun to fade behind the skyline. Golden light spilled across the cityscape, glinting off glass towers and water channels. From his office window, Macao looked peaceful — almost deceptively so.
When the time came, Novaeus rose from his chair and straightened his suit jacket. The quiet mechanical sound of EIDEN activating in his glasses followed a second later.
"All systems operational," EIDEN said softly.
"Let's go."
Outside the building, five enhanced operatives waited. They were tall, built, and sharp-eyed — the serum's results evident in their posture and composure. Each wore a sleek black tuxedo layered with nanoweave protection, bulletproof yet refined. Their weapons were compact, efficient, and custom-designed by EIDEN: silent, lethal, and untraceable.
The convoy awaited — a line of matte-black vehicles gleaming under the dim lights.
Novaeus walked toward the car, flanked by his bodyguards. The city air was thick with the scent of rain and fuel, the neon signs flickering like pulse beats in the distance. The moment he stepped into the back seat, the convoy began to move, engines humming quietly against the night.
Inside the car, Novaeus sat in silence, his expression unreadable as he watched the city glide past through tinted glass. The lights of Macao reflected faintly against his eyes — the same eyes that had once seen the fall of empires and the rise of syndicates.
He leaned back, resting one hand against his chin, thinking quietly.
"I hope tonight will be lively," he murmured to himself, a faint smirk touching his lips.
And with that small whisper of amusement, the car vanished into the traffic — a shadow among the glittering veins of the city.