Zero held it up. The art depicted a young man with messy black hair, dressed in sleek, modern black leathers, surrounded by a phantom arsenal of floating spectral swords.
[Noctis Lucis Caelum]
Origin:Final Fantasy XV
Traits:The 114th Heir Apparent to the Lucian throne. A prince who carries the burden of kings. He wields the Power of Kings, allowing him to manifest a variety of weapons from thin air and teleport to them instantly via "Warp-strikes." He is a versatile combatant who combines melee mastery with elemental sorcery.
[King's Covenant] – Noctis can bestow a share of his magical power and elemental abilities upon his sworn allies, enhancing the entire party's combat effectiveness.
"Noctis?" Zero muttered, looking at the card. "Wait, I remember the trailers for this back when it was still called Versus XIII. I died before I could actually play it."
"Aawww man!" Soma groaned, leaning over Zero's shoulder. "They already made fifteen of these Final Fantasy games?! Cecil, if you're listening, can we get some modern games next time? Like a PS3? or maybe they are already at 7? I want to see how far graphics went!"
Zero chuckled, flicking the card. "Nevertheless, he kind of looks like he's in a boy band. Is he going to save the world or go on a world tour?"
Gellert, however, wasn't looking at the aesthetics. He was reading the [King's Covenant] trait with focused intensity. "His appearance is secondary to his utility, Zero. He can wield magic and warp through space, yes, but look here—he can bestow a share of his power upon those he associates with. For a leader, this is a monumental ability. He doesn't just fight; he elevates his entire unit."
Suddenly, a voice crackled through the Hub, clear and commanding. It was Erwin, currently leaning against his patrol car in a quiet Evercrest alley.
"Dibs on Noctis," Erwin said. "A King's power that can be shared among subordinates? That is exactly the tool I need to bridge the gap between my 'human' detective persona and the higher-tier threats we'll inevitably face. Plus, the warp ability will make my 'escapes' much more convincing."
Zero let out a tired sigh. "You guys are like vultures. Fine, Erwin. He's yours. But you'll have to come and visit the café if you want to pick up your 'gift.'"
"I'll be there by sunrise," Erwin replied before closing the link.
Soma took the Noctis card and carefully tucked it into the leather-bound card binder, right next to the others. He clapped his hands together with a satisfied thwack.
"And that's it for this month's Gacha!" Soma shouted, grinning as he flipped through the pages. "Let's look at the haul: Jar Jar Bink, Indiana Jones, Kaito Kid, Izumi Miyamura, Sokka, Tobio Kageyama, Ezio Auditore, Tai Lung, Shiro Fujimoto, Saul Goodman, and Noctis."
He slammed the binder shut and held it up like a trophy. "A great collection! We've got comedy, history, stealth, cooking, sports, and now a literal King!"
Zero slid the binder toward himself, glancing at the names. "Let's see... Erwin took dibs on Noctis. Sebas, it would be great if you can take Ezio; those 'Spiders' of yours need a Master Assassin to teach them. Legolas should have taken Kaito Kid for that flair of drama he loves so much. Sorry, Gel... no specific magical characters for you this time."
Gellert took a calm sip of his tea, unfazed. "No worries. My own path is sufficient for now. Besides, I am more interested in the 'Draconic Path' Bryn Garner mentioned."
Soma's eyes suddenly blazed with a different kind of fire. He untied his headband and re-tied it around his forehead with a snap.
"Alright! The business is done, the gods are prayed to, and the cards are pulled!" Soma pointed a ladle toward the kitchen. "I hope you're all hungry, because I'm going to cook a half-year anniversary feast! We're celebrating our progress! LET'S GO!"
Zero laughed as Soma sprinted into the kitchen, the sounds of clattering pans and roaring flames immediately filling the café. For a moment, the weight of the darkness of the world felt very, very far away.
…
The next morning, the morning sun of the Royal Capital hit Sapphire Row with a pristine, golden clarity.
Legolas stood on the cobblestone street, his arms crossed over his slate-grey coat, looking up at the storefront he had spent weeks preparing. High above the door, a team of workers had just finished mounting the sign. It wasn't gaudy or oversized like the neighboring shops of the nobility; it was a minimalist slab of black marble with two words etched in silver:
ARMANI
Legolas smiled. It was a proud, quiet expression. Back on Earth, Kaelan Wynn had been a nobody who could barely afford a new pair of shoes. Now, he was planting a flag in the heart of a kingdom. This was his first real step—the foundation of a legacy.
"Legolas!"
A sharp, impatient voice cut through the morning air. Legolas turned his head to see Ysolt Delacroix marching toward him, her long elven ears twitching with curiosity. She was dressed in a vibrant, experimental violet cloak that practically hummed with magical presence.
"Ysolt! Good morning," Legolas waved, his charisma effortlessly smooth.
"So, is this it? My 15% stake in your so-called 'Maison' thing?" Ysolt stopped beside him, squinting at the sign. "Tho, your store name is not the one you told me about back in the car. What happened to 'de l'Elfe'?"
"That is my main company," Legolas replied, gesturing toward the sleek black windows. "This is a Maison. And this one will specialize almost exclusively in menswear. I've decided to call the brand Armani."
Ysolt's eyes widened, then she let out a skeptical huff. "Menswear? Legolas, you're caging yourself! None of the major fashion brands in the United Realms specialize in a single gender. It's bad business. You're just throwing away 50% of your potential profit!"
Legolas didn't look bothered. He leaned against a pillar, his golden hair catching the light. "Ysolt, tell me... what do you have in your Delacroix catalog for the upcoming Winter?"
Ysolt began counting on her fingers. "Ball gowns, everyday tunics, riding habits, sleepwear, children's capes, ceremonial stoles..." She continued until she ran out of fingers and started over.
"And of all those," Legolas interrupted gently, "which type of garment actually broke your name into the high society? Which one made the Duchesses scream?"
Ysolt paused, her expression softening into pride. "Dresses. Specifically, evening gowns for tea parties and galas. That is the soul of Delacroix."
"Exactly," Legolas nodded. "And what about your menswear? Your suits? Your trousers?"
Ysolt shrugged. "We sell them, of course. But... not so much. Men usually just buy whatever their wives tell them to, or they go to a military tailor. That's just how it is. Every brand is like that."
"Yes," Legolas said, his eyes turning sharp. "And do you know why? It's because when a man sees 'Delacroix,' he thinks of a dress. He thinks of his wife. He feels like an afterthought in your store. My Maison will handle that problem. Armani will be the place where a man feels like a king, not a chaperone. We will run a more efficient, targeted brand."
Ysolt blinked, her mind racing through the logic. "Efficiency... targeting a specific demographic..." She looked at the sign again. "What do you mean by 'handling' it?"
Legolas rubbed his thumb and forefinger together in the universal sign for money, a playful smirk on his face. "Sign your brand under my parent company, and I'll tell you the secrets of the 'Maison' structure."
"Hhoooo!" Ysolt barked a laugh, her competitive spirit flared. "My muse has a knack for teasing, doesn't he?! You want to swallow Delacroix before you've even sold a single tie?"
"I don't want to swallow you, Ysolt. I want to build the house that protects you," Legolas laughed, turning and walking toward the door of his store.
A few minutes later, they were settled onto the plush, dark leather sofas in the back of the studio. The room smelled of expensive cedar and high-quality wool.
"Oh, I almost forgot," Ysolt said, reaching into her cloak and pulling out a heavy, cream-colored envelope sealed with a wax phoenix. "Here. This came for you this morning, care of the Delacroix office."
Legolas took the letter and broke the seal. As he read the elegant script, his eyebrows shot upward.
"An invitation to a Grand Gala Fashion Show... under the Silent Night?" Legolas looked at Ysolt, stunned. "Is this date right? A fashion show, at night, right during the Silent Night? Are the people in the Capital insane? I thought everyone was supposed to hide behind barriers!"
Ysolt smiled, but it was a softer, more mystical expression than usual. "Oh, I guess you haven't heard the latest forecast from the Spire. Five days from now, the Silent Night prediction isn't a storm of chaos or a swarm of beasts. It's an Aurora Ribbon."
"Aurora Ribbon?"
"It is a rare celestial phenomenon," Ysolt explained. "Instead of darkness, the sky will be filled with ribbons of liquid light—green, violet, and shimmering silver. It is said to be the most beautiful night a mortal can behold. Rumor has it, the last time an Aurora Ribbon occurred was the night the Hero finally killed the Demon King several thousand years ago. The entire Kingdom is in a celebratory vibe right now. It's considered an omen of a Golden Age."
Legolas leaned back, his mind instantly racing. 'Aurora Ribbon... is it the Aurora Borealis? But if this was a magical world, the colors would be deeper, the patterns more complex.'
'Is there any design? Any fabric?' he thought. 'Can I capture that beauty in a suit?'
The Hub hummed in the back of his mind. He could feel Soma's excitement about the feast and Erwin's stoic patrol, but his focus was entirely on the visual potential of the night.
"Ysolt," Legolas said, leaning forward with an intense look in his eyes. "Can I ask for a favor?"
Ysolt tilted her head, intrigued. "Sure. Anything for the Muse. What is it?"
"I need access to your weaving looms," Legolas said. "And I need every spool of Phase-Silk and Prism-Dust you have in storage. I'm going to make something that makes the sky look dull."
Ysolt grinned. "Now that is the attitude I want my muse to have. Let's get to work."
…
The night in Evercrest was a symphony of light and prestige. At its center stood the Hao Pavilion, a fifty-story skyscraper that had become the beating heart of the city's nightlife and commerce.
The interior was an architectural masterpiece of psychological manipulation. At the very center of the building, a massive hollow atrium ran from the first floor to the fiftieth. In the middle of this void, suspended by reinforced runic chains, was a circular Courtesan Stage. Enchanted with high-level acoustic arrays, the music and the velvet voices of the performers could be heard with crystal clarity on every floor, acting as a constant, rhythmic pulse for the entire building.
Each floor featured an open balcony looking into the central void. This allowed patrons on the lower floors to look up at the opulence above them with burning jealousy, while those on the higher floors looked down with a sense of cold, intoxicated pride. Every five floors housed exclusive private suites, with the luxury—and the price—tripling as one ascended toward the stars.
However, the Pavilion did not only reach toward the heavens. It rooted itself deep into the earth.
On the ground floor, tucked behind a nondescript mahogany door guarded by two silent, mountain-like men, a wealthy merchant flicked a Gold Card. The guard nodded, stepping aside.
The merchant descended a spiral staircase that seemed to go on forever. As he went deeper, the elegant music of the stage faded, replaced by the raw, guttural roar of a crowd. At the first sub-level, he emerged into a massive, torch-lit Coliseum. Here, under the glare of magical spotlights, men and beasts fought for glory and coin. It was the premier betting hub for the city's elite, a place where blood was the only currency that mattered.
But even this was just a layer of the skin.
Kai—the first orphan Sebas had picked up and personally mentored into a high-ranking disciple—walked past the cheering crowds of the Coliseum with a ghost-like stride. He approached a stone wall that looked solid to any observer, pressed a specific sequence of bricks, and stepped through a hidden seam.
He navigated a series of convoluted tunnels, the air turning cool and smelling of old parchment and ink. Finally, he emerged into a massive, round chamber that looked like the inside of a clock. This was the Hao Information Hub.
The walls were lined with thousands of small, rotating wooden slots. Dozens of operatives—the "Spiders"—worked in frantic silence, sorting, verifying, and exchanging scrolls. The room hummed with the collective weight of the city's secrets.
Kai walked to the Mid-Level desk. "Report," he said, his voice cold and precise, mirroring the discipline of his master.
He handed over a dossier. "The complete plot scheme of Baron Evost. He intends to assassinate a merchant from the Blue Moon Trading Company at the next border crossing. Use this to make the Blue Moon merchant understand that their life belongs to the Hao Sect now."
The receptionist, a lean man with a scarred eye, took the scroll with a bow. "This is high-priority intel, Brother Kai. We will begin the recruitment process immediately. Thank you for your work."
Kai gave a sharp nod and turned, walking through another concealed door that led even deeper.
He entered the Underground Training Ground, a sprawling hall of grey stone lit by low-burning lanterns. In the center of the hall, a new batch of thirty orphans—those rescued after the Night of the Dragon—were undergoing physical conditioning. Liane and Ren were moving between the ranks, correcting stances and barking orders.
Kai walked toward the older group of children, who were already seasoned by months of the Sect's brutal discipline. He clapped his hands once.
The sound was like a thunderclap. In a single second, thirty children snapped into a perfect, tidy line, their eyes fixed forward, their breathing synchronized.
Kai looked over them, his presence commanding respect despite his young age.
"The time for physical labor has ended for today," Kai announced, his voice echoing in the stone chamber. "Today's Qi circulation lesson begins now. Sit."
The children sat in unison, the sound of their movement a single, sharp thud. In the shadows of the Hao Pavilion, the first soldiers of Nazarick were beginning to find their spark.
…
The sunlight hitting the display case of Café LeBlanc was doing something magical. Inside sat rows of small glass jars filled with Soma's newest invention: Iridescent Vanilla Purin.
The pudding was a masterpiece of culinary chemistry. It had a perfect, hypnotic jiggle, but its true secret was the infused prism-sugar. Every time a jar moved, the custard shimmered with shifting hues of green, violet, and silver—a delicious mimicry of the Aurora Ribbon tales that were currently the talk of the United Realms.
It had become an overnight sensation. But Soma and Zero weren't the only ones profiting from the hype.
"Is it okay to do it today, Brother Soma? You seem... really busy," a voice called out from the doorway.
It was Marc. But he wasn't alone. Behind him stood a ragtag group of five younger kids from the neighborhood—the same "182nd Grey Tide" kids and street kids who had followed Soma to the festival back then. Marc had naturally stepped into a leadership role, acting as the protective older brother of the block. Because their parents were regulars at the café, the neighborhood had become far more tolerant toward demons, seeing their friendship as a safe thing for their children.
Soma was a blur of motion behind the counter, flipping pancakes with one hand and tamping espresso with the other. Zero was weaving through the crowded tables, balancing three trays of coffee.
"Oh, you guys!" Soma shouted over the hiss of the steam wand. "We made a promise, didn't we? Over here! The batch of purin you can sell is ready!"
He gestured to a large wooden crate on the side counter, packed with iced jars. The kids cheered, rushing forward like a pack of puppies.
"Now, listen!" Soma pointed a spatula at them, specifically narrowing his eyes at a messy-haired boy in the front. "These are to sell, not to eat yourself! Especially you, Timmy! I saw you eyeing the caramel yesterday."
Timmy, a bratty boy with a missing front tooth, felt called out. He stuck his tongue out and blew a loud raspberry. "Brother Soma is a meany! Pprrttt!"
Soma let out a long-suffering sigh. "Marc, please oversee them. If I find out Timmy's blood sugar is higher than my profit margin, I'm banning all of you from the cafe."
Marc offered a calm, reliable smile. "I'll make sure they behave, Brother Soma. You can count on me."
"Go on then, get! I'm drowning in orders here!" Soma shooed them away.
Marc hoisted the heavy crate with a grunt of effort. As the group scrambled toward the door, Soma paused his cooking just long enough to shout one last incentive.
"IF YOU SELL OUT THE WHOLE CRATE, I'LL GIVE YOU ALL LITTLE SHITS CHEESECAKE TONIGHT! TELL THE OTHER SHITLINGS TOO!"
Marc's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with the challenge. "I'll make sure it's sold clean!"
The bell chimed as the pack of kids burst out onto the street, their high-pitched voices already shouting the praises of the "Aurora Pudding" to passersby. Soma watched them through the window for a split second, his expression softening. The orange leaves were being swept away by a cold wind. Fall was ending.
'I hope winter brings this new life more warmth than the last one,' Soma thought.
"SOMA! HELP ME OUT HERE!" Zero's voice cut through the reverie. He was currently surrounded by three elven ladies demanding a detailed explanation of the bean origin.
Soma grinned, tightening his headband. "Coming, boss!"
*A/N*
~Read Advance Chapter and Support me on [email protected]/SmilinKujo~
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*A/N*