The wreckage of the Golden Pyramid lay scattered across the Atlantic and along the shores of Casablanca. This debris wasn't mere junk; it was Divine Scrap. Even a small fragment possessed enough energy to power an entire city for a century—or to create a weapon capable of decapitating an army.
Omar stood on the balcony of his obsidian tower, his eyes fixed on the magical radar. "The Shadow Market is moving. Unknown vessels are approaching from the North, equipped with high-grade stealth technology."
Laila stood behind him, uncharacteristically silent. Her face was pale, her features tight with anxiety. "Omar... the people coming... they aren't just ordinary black-market traders. They are 'The Reapers'. They are the military wing of the Shadow Market in Europe."
Omar turned to her, noticing that her hand was trembling as she gripped her daggers. "Laila, you know too much about them. Is there something you haven't told me?"
Laila took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "The leader of the Reapers is my older brother... Youssef. He's the one who trained me. He's the reason I fled to Morocco when I refused to kill innocents for their bottom line. If he's the one coming, he won't stop until he takes the Golden Core from your shop."
At that moment, a massive explosion rocked the coast of Casablanca. One of Omar's mana-radars had been vaporized.
[Warning: Airspace Breach Detected!]
[Enemy: 4 'Void-Ghost' Heavy Transport Helicopters.]
[Target: Asset Retrieval - The Golden Core.]
"Kaelen! Activate the Decentralized Defense System!" Omar roared as he descended toward the main hall. "Laila, brother or not, anyone who enters this shop without an invitation pays the price. Are you with me or with him?"
Laila paused for a fraction of a second, glancing at the contract tattoo on her wrist that bound her to Omar. Then, she unsheathed her daggers, which began to glow with a dark, violet light. "I am with the Merchant who gave me my freedom. Youssef died to me years ago."
The helicopters began rappelling soldiers equipped with "Anti-Magic" tactical armor. They landed on the roof of the Emporium and began using "Mana-Lasers" to cut through the ceiling.
Omar stood in the center of the grand hall, reaching into the air. His new weapon materialized: [The Sovereign Staff], forged from the remains of the Herald.
The roof access door exploded inward. A tall man stepped through, dressed in an elegant military suit, wielding a claymore that dwarfed Kenji's blade. "Laila... I've missed you, little sister. I knew I'd find you here, hiding behind this... 'Novice' merchant."
Youssef walked calmly, scanning the shop with a predatory gaze. "Omar, right? I've heard quite a bit about you. They say you've become a 'Minor God' here in Casablanca. I'm just here to place a 'Protective Lien' on this merchandise you stole from the Architects. This is way above your pay grade, boy."
Omar laughed—a cold, hollow sound that made Youssef's soldiers hesitate. "Youssef, you Shadow Market types love to talk. You're nothing but 'Middlemen.' You wait for heroes to fight just so you can swoop in and collect the scraps. But this time, the scraps are going to collect you."
Omar slammed his staff against the floor. Instantly, the shop transformed. Gravity inverted, and the massive shelves began to launch themselves at the soldiers like lightning bolts.
[Sovereign Skill Activated: 'The Law of the Shop'!]
[Rule #1: Any weapon held by an intruder turns to dust.]
The advanced rifles in the soldiers' hands began to disintegrate, crumbling into gray powder between their fingers. Youssef gasped in horror as his own claymore began to crack. "What is this sorcery? This isn't normal mana!"
"This isn't mana," Omar said, walking toward him, feeling the raw power of the Emporium surging through his veins. "This is Ownership. In this space, I am the Law. Laila, if you have a debt to settle... he's all yours."
Laila lunged forward like a shadow, beginning a frantic duel with her brother in the center of the hall, while Omar looked toward the horizon... noticing a massive fleet approaching in the distance.
Youssef was just the bait.