The private jet carved its path through the midnight sky, its engines a low, distant growl above the clouds. Inside, Chess sat beside Elsa, eyes locked on the holographic screen projected from the console between them. A flashing red icon marked Jefferson Global's East Asia Division HQ—its location now eerily silent, offline from all satellite relays.
"Still no intel from The Veil?" Elsa asked, arms crossed, jaw tight.
"Not even a whisper," Chess replied. "Which tells me two things: either someone wiped the data from the source… or someone else is controlling the silence."
Elsa frowned. "You're saying this isn't just sabotage. It's a takeover."
Chess gave a slow nod. "A very careful one."
Elsa's mind whirled. This branch had been one of her most stable global assets—a tech and logistics hybrid with multiple secured AI research pipelines and biotech licenses.
No warning. No demand. Just smoke and silence.
She wasn't the only one asking questions now.
Chess leaned back in his seat, one leg folded over the other, tapping a rhythm against the armrest. But behind his relaxed posture, his mind was dissecting every possible scenario.
He finally looked at her. "What do you remember about your uncle?"
Elsa blinked. "Which one?"
"The one no one talks about. The 'exiled' Jefferson."
Her eyes narrowed. "You're talking about Marcus."
Chess nodded. "I think someone from that bloodline may be pulling strings again. East Asia was his playground. And Kip once funneled Jefferson tech through a proxy company registered under one of Marcus' old holding firms."
Elsa's fingers tightened around her glass of water. "He was banished from the board for embezzlement and espionage. If he's behind this—"
"He won't stop at East Asia."
They fell into a silence, thick with old family wounds and new threats.
Then, without looking up, Chess said, "The plane lands in Daska in three hours. We'll need boots on the ground fast."
Elsa glanced at him. "You mean us."
A smirk twitched on his lips. "Unless you're scared of a little corporate war."
She leaned in. "I am the war."
Daska City, East Asia Division Grounds – 3:11 AM
The entrance to Jefferson Global East Asia loomed like a gutted colossus. The power grid was out. Lights flickered inside the twenty-story tower, emergency backups barely breathing life into the corridors.
Chess and Elsa, dressed in sleek matte-black infiltration gear, stepped past the disabled front scanners with ease.
"I thought this place had top-tier AI surveillance," Elsa whispered.
"It did," Chess muttered. "Someone lobotomized it."
A sharp buzz echoed from above. Drones.
Elsa ducked instinctively, only for Chess to casually raise a hand. The nearest drone short-circuited and fell from the air, sizzling in a heap.
"You didn't even touch it," Elsa whispered.
"Didn't need to," he said coolly. "I'm connected to the old sigil lines embedded beneath this tower. They once fed from Mount Rihon's ley-energy network."
Elsa blinked. "You mean this place was built… on a spiritual hotspot?"
"Jefferson Global has more secrets than you know," Chess said as they moved deeper into the building.
Each floor they climbed, the damage grew worse. Terminals smashed. Data vaults empty. Staff missing.
But then—
"Hold." Chess raised a hand.
Elsa froze.
A faint pulse echoed through the air. Like a heartbeat. Then another. And another.
They followed it—to the central server room.
And what they saw stopped them cold.
In the center of the room was a rune seal—a crimson triangle burning into the marble, with swirling glyphs of unknown origin. Around it, five bodies lay collapsed—technicians, guards, researchers. All alive. But unconscious.
"This… this isn't tech sabotage," Elsa whispered, taking a step back.
"No," Chess said darkly. "It's spirit weaving. Forbidden art from the east. Used to erase memory and hijack energy signatures."
Elsa stared at him. "How do you know that?"
He looked at her, and for a brief second, the fire in his eyes flickered gold. "Because I used to hunt the ones who practiced it."
Suddenly, a slow clap echoed from the far shadows of the room.
"Well, well, well," came a smooth voice.
A tall man in a sharp grey suit stepped into the dim light. His hair was silver, his skin oddly flawless, and his smile too perfect.
Elsa's eyes widened. "Marcus…"
Her estranged uncle.
"You've been busy, niece," Marcus said smoothly. "But I told them. I told them all—you were never built for the throne. Not like I was."
Chess stepped forward. "Funny. You don't look like someone who's going to walk out of this room."
Marcus laughed softly. "You've always underestimated me, Golding. Even back then."
Chess tilted his head. "Back where?"
"Oh," Marcus said, smile widening. "We've crossed paths before… in places you've long buried in that disciplined mind of yours."
Elsa looked between them. "You two know each other?"
"Not yet," Chess muttered. "But I will."
Then, like a flicker of light, Chess moved.
The server room exploded into motion.