Darian sat in the corner of the "Rusty Cog," Uncle John’s workshop, polishing a discarded brass gear. To anyone passing by, he was a focused apprentice. To the Simple System, he was a black hole in the city’s data stream.
[Incident Report: The Tax Collector’s Fall] [Operator Vaxen: Task Completed.] [Method: Staged gambling brawl. Target neutralized via 'Echo Strike'.] [Casualties: 0. Detection: 0%.]
Darian didn't smile. A smile was a physical tell. Instead, he mentally authorized the payout.
[Transferring 2,000 HC to Operator Vaxen...] [Transaction Complete. Remaining Balance: 1,200 HC.]
Through the Binding Protocol, Darian felt a surge of cold, dark energy return to him—a "rebate" of power. Every time an Operator used a skill granted or tracked by the system, a fraction of that combat experience flowed back to the Hollow Throne.
Darian’s fingers tightened on the brass gear. In his mind’s eye, his stats flickered.
Host: Darian Noctis
Combat Class: None (Path of the Architect)
Power Level: 9 (↑ 2)
Acquired Skills: [Shadow Blade], [Echo Strike - Fragmented]
He wasn't a warrior yet, but he was a sponge. He was absorbing the lethal muscle memory of a man who had spent twenty years killing for coin. Darian closed his eyes, and for a split second, the workshop felt different. He could "see" the structural weaknesses in the wooden beams, the exact angle needed to snap a man’s neck with a wrench.
He wasn't interested in honor or a fair fight. He wanted efficiency. He wanted a combat system that ensured he never had to struggle.
"Darian! Stop daydreaming and get the shipment manifest," Uncle John barked from the forge.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Darian jumped slightly—a perfectly timed act of startle—and hurried over. "Sorry, Uncle. I was just thinking about the news. People are saying Harken the Tax Collector was killed last night."
John stopped hammering. The glow of the furnace turned his rugged face into a mask of deep shadows. "Harken was a pig, but he was a pig protected by the Tiger Battalion. To kill him in a public tavern and leave no trace? That’s not a common thug’s work."
John looked at Darian, his Architect’s Sight showing John’s loyalty tag flickering: [Loyalty: To the Memory of Max Noctis - 92%].
"There’s a rumor in the Middle District," John continued, lowering his voice. "They’re calling it the Hollow Order. No faces. No names. Just a silver mark left on the palm of the dead."
Darian felt a thrill of cold satisfaction. He hadn't told Vaxen to leave a mark. The Simple System had done it automatically—branding its work, building a brand of terror.
"Sounds like a bedtime story to scare the nobles," Darian said smoothly.
"Maybe," John muttered. "But your father... Max... he used to say that the most dangerous enemy isn't the one with the biggest army. It’s the one who owns your debts.
Late that night, Darian returned to his room. He didn't sleep. He opened the Simple System and looked at the map of Zanthera.
The Hollow Order was small, but its hierarchy was hardening.
The Sovereign (Darian): The core of the void.
The Anchors (Kael Ardyn): Unwittingly providing political and military intel.
The Operators (Vaxen): The blades, bound by the Neural Collapse penalty.
But there was a gap. He needed a Broker. Someone to manage the credits so he didn't have to micromanage every assassination.
[System Alert: High-Tier Entity Resonance Detected.] [The "Eye of the Sun" is scanning the Lower District for 'Irregular Wealth'.]
Darian narrowed his eyes. The gods—the Entities—were starting to notice the missing money. In a world where every gold coin was tracked by divine providence, Hollow Credits were a virus.
"They think they can track the gold," Darian whispered to the darkness. "But they don't realize I'm not playing their game. I'm building a new one."
He tapped a command into the void.
[New Directive: Laundering.] [Target: The Obsidian Vanguard’s old front companies.]
Darian knew the organization his father worked for was a shadow of its former self. He would join them soon—not as a grieving son seeking answers, but as a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He would use their ancient names to hide his new, ruthless Order.
[Authority Synchronization: 28%] [New Operator Slot Unlocked.]
Darian leaned back, his eyes cold and calculating. He didn't care about the "justice" Kael sought, or the "honor" John remembered. He only cared about the throne beneath the world. And it was hungry.