Chapter 217: Only Fools Bites The Hand That Holds The Blade

The hallway outside the Grand Parliament’s high-security vault was eerily quiet, illuminated by the cold brilliance of crystal chandeliers and polished marble.

As the heavy steel doors hissed shut behind them, Arthur and Bureau Head Derrick walked side by side, the tension that had just moments ago gripped the room now trailing after them like smoke in the air.

Arthur moved with a deliberate calm, embodying the unhurried stride of a man who had already secured victory.

In contrast, Derrick cast anxious glances over his shoulder.

His lips were pressed into a thin line, and for once, his usually composed demeanor bore signs of unease.

They passed a marble bust of an old Federation founder, stoic and blind to the shifting tides beneath him, before Derrick finally broke the silence.

“…Arthur.”

Without breaking stride, Arthur replied coolly. “Yes?”

Derrick hesitated; he seemed to weigh each word carefully before letting it slip out. “Will they… actually let this go?”

Arthur kept his gaze fixed ahead. “They already did.”

“I mean…” Derrick lowered his voice as if afraid that even the walls might be listening. “Senator Kyreth. Councilor Vale. Even Clarisse Wyndham, these aren’t pushovers! These people have networks that run through the very bones of the Federation: military, commerce, judiciary… You’ve humiliated them in a way most would never recover from. I know you hold all the cards now, but snakes cornered still strike.”

As they reached the top of a granite staircase overlooking Neo-Luminara’s sprawling nightscape glimmering beyond giant stained-glass windows, Arthur paused and folded his hands behind his back, fingers interlacing neatly against his sharp charcoal-gray suit.

“Derrick,” he said without turning around, “you’ve worked with these people long enough to know exactly what kind of rot lies beneath their polished masks.

So let me ask you, do you think they’ll be brave enough to lift their heads again now that I’ve shown them how close they are to ruin?”

Derrick exhaled sharply but continued cautiously. “I know what they’ve done; God knows I’ve seen enough! But knowing and proving are two very different things.”

A faint smile crept onto Arthur’s face as he replied, “Then it’s fortunate I didn’t bring proof, I brought confessions.”

He turned then, locking eyes with Derrick in a moment charged with clarity. “Everything they saw in that room? It wasn’t just files, it was digital fingerprints, biometric records, voice logs… every document they read and every video they watched sealed with their DNA.”

Derrick blinked in stunned disbelief as realization dawned on him. “You weaponized their own systems against them?”

Arthur’s smile deepened, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “They’re too arrogant to see that the world has shifted beneath their feet. While they’re still playing politics in their suits and cigars, I’m rewriting the rules with satellites and AI.

They can threaten, plot, and gossip behind closed doors… but one whisper, one act of defiance, and their entire legacy will be dragged into a courtroom where no amount of bribery can save them.”

He resumed his descent down the staircase, with Derrick hurrying to keep pace.

“Are you really confident they won’t retaliate?” Derrick asked, unease threading through his voice.

Arthur chuckled softly, shaking his head. “No. I’m not just confident; I’m certain that even if they do try something, I’ll bury them twice as fast.”

Once they reached the lower floor, Derrick halted, doubt casting a shadow over his face. “But still… you’ve taken something sacred from them, their pride and power. They might not confront you directly, but they have allies, hidden friends in robes and uniforms.

It doesn’t matter if you hold a nuclear button; sometimes all it takes is one jealous whisper to topple an empire.”

Arthur turned fully to face Derrick now, stepping closer with an intensity that could ignite flames.

“And that’s precisely why I ensured they wouldn’t merely fear me, I made them terrified.”

His voice lowered to a razor-sharp whisper. “Let me ask you something: do you truly understand what fear is, Head Bureau Derrick?”

Derrick frowned slightly, caught off guard. “Go on.”

Arthur’s gaze drifted toward the distant skyline as he spoke with chilling clarity. “Fear is watching a video feed of your grandchildren being stalked by a sniper drone on their way home from piano lessons. Fear is realizing your offshore accounts, your safety nets, have been drained to nothing but a single unicred and a spreadsheet full of frozen assets. Fear is sitting in a room filled with your enemies while the man you dismissed as a spoiled brat turns off the lights… only to switch them back on when you’re still gasping for breath.”

He turned back to Derrick with steely resolve. “That’s what I handed them tonight.”

Derrick didn’t respond right away; he studied Arthur, his poised demeanor, unwavering gaze, and the chill in his tone that could freeze oceans solid.

Suddenly it clicked: Arthur Osborn wasn’t just some businessman; he was a predator cloaked in human skin, no wasted movements or raised voices, just a scalpel hidden behind every handshake.

“…You really don’t plan on letting them breathe again, do you?”

“I will,” Arthur replied with an amused smirk. “As long as they breathe the way I dictate.”

The two men resumed walking down the corridor; the soft click of their shoes against marble echoed like war drums.

“You know what they’re doing right now?” Arthur asked, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

Derrick raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“They’re in full-on panic mode,” Arthur continued, his tone dripping with amusement. “They’re scrambling to figure out who else caught a glimpse of what was in that room. Calling their assistants, lawyers, and offshore managers, doing everything they can to manage the fallout and soon enough…”

Arthur paused, glancing up at the grand mural above them that depicted the founding of the Aurelian Federation, “…they’ll realize no one is picking up because I’ve already made all the calls.”

Derrick let out a long breath. “You’ve really thought of everything.”

“Not everything,” Arthur replied coolly, his tone lightening as he added with a hint of mischief, “I’m still waiting on my revenge wine. I thought it would taste better paired with aged humiliation.”

Derrick chuckled despite himself; yet a flicker of nervous energy lingered in his eyes. “I’m genuinely impressed, Arthur. But… do you think they’ll stay quiet forever?”

Arthur stopped at the glass doors leading outside the Parliament building.

The crisp night air greeted them as below, the vibrant sprawl of Neo-Luminara buzzed with life.

“They won’t just stay quiet,” Arthur declared confidently. “They’ll sing my praises.”

He turned slightly, one foot poised beyond the threshold. “In public? They’ll hail me as a visionary, a patriot and pioneer of modern Neo-Luminara. But behind closed doors? They’ll whisper about me as a tyrant,a devil, a man they hope never crosses their path again.”

Derrick tilted his head thoughtfully. “And which one are you?”

Arthur grinned as he stepped into the sunlight. “I’m simply the man who made them sign away their future over coffee and champagne.”

“Man, I really don’t want to become your enemy; otherwise, I don’t know how I’d meet my end,” Derrick said bitterly after studying Arthur for a moment.

“You’d better not!” Arthur replied with a slight tilt of his head and an honest smile.

Yet in Derrick’s eyes, that genuine smile felt more like a devil’s grin.

The doors slid shut behind him with a pneumatic hiss.

Derrick stood frozen for a moment, watching as Arthur descended the Parliament steps alone,his figure stark against the pale marble and violet night sky.

He moved like a storm that had just passed, leaving behind silence and awe in its wake.

As he reached the base of the stairs, his car rolled up, a sleek obsidian-black cruiser that looked less like transportation and more like an ominous declaration of war.

Arthur halted and pulled out his cufflink communicator, casually tapping it. “Evolon.”

Evolon’s voice buzzed in Arthur’s ear, smooth and devoid of emotion. “Awaiting your command, Sir.”

Arthur smirked slightly, a glimmer of mischief dancing on his lips. “Make sure our new… shareholders receive a fruit basket tomorrow. Something sweet to remind them I’m always watching.”

“As you wish,” Evolon replied, its tone as steady as ever.

As Arthur slid into the car, the door hissed shut behind him.

Derrick stood at the top of the Parliament stairs, his gaze fixed on Arthur as he disappeared into the night.

Just before the car pulled away, the tinted window rolled down a fraction, revealing Arthur’s silhouette against the backdrop of city lights.

With an expression that could easily belong to history’s most notorious tyrants and kings, he leaned out and declared:

“Tell them only fools bite the hand that holds the blade.”

With that chilling reminder hanging in the air, the window slid back up seamlessly, and the car melted into the vibrant pulse of the city.

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