In a world reshaped by the birth of dungeons, monsters weren't the only things that crawled up from the darkness.
Riches did too.
While the average citizen saw only chaos, destruction, and fear, the truly visionary glimpsed something far greater—opportunity.
And no company seized that opportunity more ruthlessly and brilliantly than C.S. Holdings.
Once a modest logistics firm struggling to stay afloat, C.S. Holdings had, in less than a decade, transformed into an uncontested titan—the undisputed monarch of mineral and artifact transportation. When the first dungeons erupted from the Earth's crust, spewing forth ancient horrors and forgotten beasts, humanity initially despaired.
But buried deep within those deadly labyrinths were treasures: rare ores with otherworldly properties, coals imbued with ancient mana, luminous stones that defied the very laws of physics. Some shone with pure elemental power; others contained latent magic that revolutionized technology, crafting, and warfare.
Governments, corporations, and rogue guilds alike scrambled to claim their share. The world had entered a new gold rush—but this time, the gold was alive, volatile, and deadly.
And amidst the chaos, C.S. Holdings rose, a bridge between danger and profit.
With fleets of rune-armored hover freighters, rune-locked vaults that even S-Rank thieves couldn't crack, and a monopoly over extraction rights across the Valerian Republic, C.S. Holdings didn't just transport minerals.
They transported civilization's future.
Their clients included powerful Hunter Associations, royal families, clandestine research divisions, and black-market warlords. Every piece of enchanted steel, every drop of mana-infused ore that fueled the new age—C.S. Holdings touched it first.
From the depths of the dungeons to the heart of the cities, they were the veins through which the world's lifeblood flowed.
And at the top of this colossal empire stood a single family—the Shedex Dynasty.
But behind the glossy corporate exterior, old blood feuds festered.
High above the sprawling cityscape, on the 68th floor of C.S. Holdings' gleaming 70-story headquarters, the air was thick with the heavy scent of polished mahogany, aged whiskey, and simmering ambition.
Inside a grand office overlooking the luminous skyline of the Valerian capital, a man in a perfectly tailored navy-blue suit leaned back in his leather chair, a self-satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.
Keifer Shedex.
The first son. The heir apparent.
At least, that's what he had been raised to believe.
With a few final taps on his sleek, rune-embedded tablet, Keifer closed a lucrative deal: $100 million worth of A-Rank Power Stones, sold directly to the Hunter Association, under the supervision of an S-Rank guide no less.
A-Rank Power Stones—mana-crystallized cores extracted from the hearts of slain monsters—were rare treasures. Hunters forged weapons from them, imbued armor, even accelerated their ascensions to higher ranks. They were indispensable, invaluable.
And yet, in the hierarchy of mana stones, A-Rank was merely the threshold of greatness.
Above them loomed the fabled S-Rank and SSS-Rank stones—items so powerful and rare they could command prices in the billions.
Still, $100 million for a haul of A-Rank cores? That was nothing to scoff at.
It was a solid win.
Or so Keifer thought.
Basking in the afterglow of success, he swiped through the latest internal reports with a casual air.
And froze.
A sharp knock at the door heralded the entrance of his personal assistant—a wiry young man who looked like he would rather be anywhere else. He bowed low, papers trembling slightly in his hands.
"Sir... regarding Mr. Vazdas Shedex..." the assistant said carefully, his voice barely above a whisper.
Keifer's smirk evaporated.
Vazdas Shedex.
The second son. The "prodigy." The damn "golden child."
Even now, the mere mention of that name made Keifer's stomach twist.
The assistant continued, sweat beading on his forehead. "Mr. Vazdas has... successfully closed a deal as well. For A-Rank Stones."
Keifer narrowed his eyes. "How much?"
The assistant swallowed hard. "Five hundred million, sir. Same stones. Same market."
Silence.
For a long, harrowing moment, the only sound in the office was the faint hum of the city outside.
Then, Keifer's hand slammed onto the desk, the force rattling the glassware and causing a priceless mana lamp to flicker.
Five times.
The same stones.
The same day.
Humiliation seared his pride. He hadn't just been outperformed—he'd been obliterated.
Before he could gather the shards of his shattered dignity, the antique phone on the far corner of his desk buzzed sharply, the crimson light flashing like a warning flare.
A paged call.
Urgent. Non-negotiable.
The assistant's face turned a shade paler. "Sir... the Chairman requests your presence. All heirs are to report to the meeting room immediately."
Keifer straightened, smoothing his tie with mechanical precision. His expression hardened into something cold, ruthless.
Father.
When Chinra Shedex summoned his heirs, it wasn't for family bonding. It was a call to arms.
A battlefield where words cut deeper than knives, and only the strongest survived.
Without another word, Keifer swept out of the office, his polished shoes striking sharp, measured notes against the marble floors.
Tonight, the bloodline war inside C.S. Holdings would escalate.
And Keifer Shedex vowed he would not walk away defeated again.
The 60th floor of the C.S. Holdings skyscraper was unlike any other. It wasn't just a level—it was the nerve center of a global empire.
Polished obsidian floors gleamed like dark glass, reflecting the crystal chandeliers above. A massive round table, forged from mana-infused ebony, dominated the room. Around it sat the power players—the elite executives, shareholders, and top-ranking stakeholders who guided the fate of the world's most influential company.
The air was thick with tension and murmured speculation.
Every seat was filled, every suit pristine, every breath held in quiet anticipation.
They were all waiting for one man—the arranger of the meeting, the tyrant-king behind the empire.
Chinra Shedex.
The founder. The CEO. The legend.
The heavy doors hissed open, and in walked the first of the two sons.
Keifer Shedex, the eldest, strode in with a stoic expression. His sharp features were slightly strained, a storm hidden behind calm eyes. He took his seat without a word, the subtle glint of anxiety clinging to his expensive suit like smoke.
Moments later, a second figure entered.
Vazdas Shedex.
Younger. Sharper. Infuriatingly calm.
He wore a sleek black suit, his steps measured, his expression unreadable. His mere presence drew every eye in the room—some with admiration, others with contempt.
The two brothers sat across from one another.
They did not speak.
They did not nod.
They simply watched.
The room remained still… but the whispers did not.
Mouths behind manicured hands moved in hushed murmurs. Whispers slipped across the table like daggers in the dark.
> "Tch. Such a shame the legitimate heir is so… incompetent."
> "If I were him, I'd have jumped off the 70th floor already."
> "To be outdone again by a bastard... how humiliating."
The word hit like a slap.
Bastard.
It wasn't whispered—it was announced.
Everyone in the room knew the truth. Vazdas was the son of a one-night liaison between Chinra Shedex and a former landlady—an accidental legacy. Born outside wedlock, unacknowledged for years.
And yet… he had risen. Faster. Sharper. Stronger.
Despite his bloodline disadvantage, he had become the better Shedex.
Executives exchanged smug looks, some even chuckling behind their hands.
Keifer sat still, but his hands trembled beneath the table. He could hear every word. Every jab. Every humiliation. He lowered his head slightly, eyes burning, jaw clenched so tight it ached.
But he said nothing.
Then came Mr. Gari—a man infamous within the company for his sycophancy. Known to lick boots, sing praises, and metaphorically kiss earwax if it meant staying close to power.
He approached Keifer with a wide grin, his tone artificially honeyed.
"Master Keifer, what a remarkable sale you pulled off recently. A hundred million? Truly impressive in these trying times. I'm sure you have a brilliant strategy to counter young Vazda's… luck."
Keifer didn't look up. His silence was cold, but Mr. Gari kept talking.
"You know, sir, I still believe you are the rightful heir. True blood always wins in the end. After all, our great chairman would never hand the reins to an outsider, right?"
The flattery was desperate, transparent.
Because in this room, everyone knew the truth.
The company was divided.
Two factions had formed like tectonic plates under pressure:
—One supported Keifer, the main son, clinging to tradition and lineage.
—The other—an overwhelming 80% of the board—sided with Vazdas, drawn to his cunning, his results, and his rising dominance.
The battle lines were drawn.
And just as the whispers reached a fever pitch, the room suddenly fell into silence.
The glass doors at the far end slid open.
He had arrived.
Chinra Shedex—the man who built the empire, brick by enchanted brick.
His presence alone commanded the room. Tall, silver-haired, and draped in a robe lined with mana-thread, he walked with a predator's calm. His eyes, cold as winter steel, swept across the room.
Without a word, he took his place at the head of the table.
Every executive sat straighter.
Every whisper died.
And as the patriarch looked at his two sons—one born of legacy, the other of merit—his expression remained unreadable.
But something in the air shifted.
Something was about to change.