"Whaaa—! I didn't know the Triangle was in Orange River…"
Maya's voice carried an innocence that didn't belong in a place like this.
She pressed herself against the transporter terminal's glass wall, staring down at the skyline beyond. Orange River stretched toward the horizon—layered highways, low industrial sectors, glass towers reflecting polluted sunlight like everything was cleaner than it actually was.
It looked peaceful.
It wasn't.
"The Triangle isn't in Orange River," I corrected calmly. "This is just a branch district. Why do you think they charged ten merits for the transporter?"
Maya blinked.
Then frowned.
"…Oh."
While she admired the skyline, I fought the city map interface hovering in front of me.
Who designed this garbage?
Orange River was divided into numbered districts—commercial hubs, residential corridors, border zones.
And one special sector.
District 13.
The unofficial district.
Underworld territory.
Perfect.
I glanced sideways at Maya.
"You've been here before?"
She nodded. "A few times."
"For errands?"
She hesitated. "For… things."
Fair enough.
"Good," I said. "Then follow my lead."
District 13
The further we walked from the transport hub, the more the city changed.
White pavement cracked into broken asphalt. Storefront glass gave way to rusted shutters. Security cameras hung from poles like snapped necks.
The air felt heavier.
The light dimmer.
Maya's fingers twitched slightly at her side.
"District 13 is dangerous," she murmured.
"It's controlled," I replied.
Dangerous implied chaos.
This wasn't chaos.
It was structure without law.
Which made it exploitable.
We turned into a narrow alley bordered by leaning buildings. Rusted pipes ran along concrete walls. Trash bags leaked into gutters. Water dripped somewhere unseen.
Maya stopped.
Without a word, she reached into her coat and pulled out a white mask painted with faint pink-and-blue accents. It covered everything but her eyes.
Her posture shifted instantly.
Shoulders lowered.
Breathing steadier.
"Rose," she said quietly. "Third Black Sky. The Cloudy Sky."
I slipped my own mask on—matte black, thin red vein-like streaks webbing across it.
"Dragon," I replied. "First Black Sky. The Stormy Sky."
Her nerves didn't vanish.
But they stabilized.
Good.
The Door
The alley narrowed into what looked like a dead end.
Most people would've turned around.
They would've missed the small wooden door set flush against concrete.
Weathered.
Unmarked.
Almost embarrassed to exist.
I knocked.
Tap. Tap. Tap… tap.
Pause.
A sliding panel opened.
Cold eyes stared out.
"What do you want?"
"Read my fortune."
The panel shut.
A lock clicked.
The door opened.
We stepped inside.
League of Shadows
The staircase was narrow.
Dim.
But clean.
That told me everything I needed to know.
They cared about presentation.
Which meant they feared irrelevance.
At the top, the space opened into a lavish reception room—velvet sofas, polished wood paneling, glass tables reflecting warm light.
Underworld groups loved to overcompensate with decor.
Legitimacy they'd never receive, recreated in furniture.
Behind a broad desk sat a heavy man with black hair and a small heart tattoo under his eye.
Maximus Sagaza.
Physical stats near human peak.
Magic energy weak.
Concealment ability strong enough to evade serious tracking.
Future faction leader in Arc 102.
He stood immediately.
"May I see it?"
No greeting.
No courtesy.
Just hunger.
I handed him the black-bound manual.
His fingers trembled slightly as he flipped through it.
Mid-grade magic control.
Authentic.
He knew the moment he saw the circulation diagrams.
"I've never heard of you," he said slowly. "May I know your names?"
I inclined my head.
"I am Dragon."
A slight gesture.
"And this is Rose. We represent Black Heavens."
"…Never heard of it."
"You wouldn't," I said. "It operates in the Lawless Domain."
That landed.
The Lawless Domain.
The mythic territory criminals dreamed about—no nations, no stable enforcement, no predictable repercussions.
Maximus's eyes sharpened.
Caution replaced excitement.
"Why are you here?"
"To sell," I answered.
"And the price?"
I leaned back like this was routine.
"You."
Silence thickened.
His leg stopped bouncing under the desk.
"Excuse me?"
"Black Heavens intends to establish a branch inside human territory," I said evenly. "You've proven you can control District 13."
His palms slammed the desk.
The wood dented.
"I don't take orders from shadows," he growled.
The guards flooded in almost instantly.
Ten men.
Armed.
Disciplined.
Rose didn't flinch.
She raised her hand.
Navy metaphysical energy condensed at her fingertips, forming a thin blade of pure density. The air tightened, pressure folding inward toward the edge.
Maximus froze.
He felt it.
This wasn't ordinary magic.
It was refined.
Controlled.
Different.
"Relax," I said, placing my hand lightly over Rose's wrist. "Don't kill him."
She lowered her arm immediately.
The blade dissolved.
The room stayed tense.
"Your physical stats are near the human ceiling," I continued calmly. "But without magic control, you've plateaued."
His gaze flicked to the manual.
I pressed on.
"Unify Orange River's underworld in thirty days. That earns you our acknowledgment."
"And if I refuse?"
I let magic circulate—just enough.
Heat gathered in the room.
Not explosive.
Not theatrical.
Just present.
A reminder.
"You lost the right to refuse," I said softly, "the moment I spoke your family name."
His jaw tightened.
The guards shifted uneasily.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a cigarette with steady hands.
"Light."
I snapped my fingers.
A small flame appeared. Stable. Precise.
His eyes tracked it carefully.
He inhaled.
Exhaled.
Calculating.
"…And what do I gain?"
"You become the Eighth Black Sky."
Confusion flickered across his face.
"And what prestige does that give me?"
I stood.
"Earn it."
Rose rose beside me.
"Thirty days," I said. "Fail, and District 13 belongs to someone else."
We left without waiting for a formal answer.
Power wasn't negotiated.
It was assumed.
On the Walk Back
District 13 faded behind us.
Streetlights grew cleaner.
Noise shifted back into something approaching normal.
Maya finally spoke.
"Does Black Heavens exist?"
I smiled faintly.
"It does now."
She walked in silence for several seconds.
Then—
"I trust you."
That hit harder than I expected.
Her fingers squeezed mine gently.
"Did you really give him magic control?"
"No."
"Variation?"
"Yes."
She studied me.
"How?"
I didn't answer.
Because the honest answer was dangerous.
I'm copying what you did in the novel.
The irony wasn't lost on me.
In the original timeline, Maya regretted selling magic control.
Here?
We engineered dependency.
"Will he succeed?" she asked quietly.
"Yes."
Because I remembered a single line from the novel:
Not even the 29th-ranked world esper could penetrate his concealment.
Original bloodlines weren't fragile.
They were patient.
We walked back toward the Triangle branch gate—toward the academy I was actively reshaping.
The underworld would start moving within a week.
District wars.
Faction consolidation.
Resource shifts.
All outside the Triangle's official influence.
And when the Lawless Domain arc finally arrived—
we wouldn't be infiltrating it.
We'd already have leverage.
I removed my mask before reaching the checkpoint.
"Let the future wait," I murmured.
"For now, we prepare."
Maya nodded.
The skyline glowed behind us.
And somewhere in District 13,
Maximus Sagaza was deciding whether to become a king—
or a corpse.