The Bookstore Cipher
Malesh completely froze. His deadpan eyes widened as his brain suddenly connected a massive, seemingly unrelated piece of data.
"Kniya," Malesh whispered, his voice incredibly tight. "When we bought those novels..."
Kniya blinked. "What?"
"Do you remember earlier today when we went to that abandoned shack?" Malesh asked urgently. "When we bought the comic books and the novels from that store?"
Filoska looked between them, completely confused. "You went shopping for comics today?"
"Yeah," Malesh continued, ignoring her. "Kniya bought a massive volume of That Time the Demon Lord Became President. And I bought the Five Best Ways to Fart - Rare Edition 6969."
"I remember!" Kniya yelled. "The shopkeeper literally pulled a heavy machine gun on you!"
"Exactly!" Malesh realized, his mind racing. "Kniya, the novels we bought today... when we were reading them in the car, there were so many random, misspelled pages. Every time we flipped a page, there was some kind of weird, hidden note printed in the margins. We thought it was just cheap printing, but it was actually highly encrypted information regarding the military plans they were doing! We didn't get to know what that actually meant at the time, but now we are finally able to decipher it!"
Kniya's jaw unhinged. "Absolutely, yes, Malesh! This is a part of a super massive plan that is going to be implemented! The weird numbers in the margins of the Demon Lord comic were exact topographical coordinates!"
"There is a precise mention of each and every coordinate where the protests are currently being organized, and where the military actions are actively taking place," Malesh confirmed, absolute shock bleeding into his voice.
"I think so, the novel seller guy was absolutely not a normal retail person!" Kniya realized out loud, pacing furiously. "He was a heavily armed, top-tier intelligence broker! He knew about everything from the very start! He knew about all those things all along! But who the fuck was that guy who helped us secretly?!"
"I don't know about this thing," Malesh admitted, staring at the floor. "But he gave us the entire royal playbook disguised as degenerate literature."
Filoska and Salesh were standing near the sofa, completely overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the conspiracy unfolding in front of them.
"Wait," Salesh stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. "So... what is basically happening in the country right now? Are we at war?"
"My family is going to do a massive regime change," Kniya declared, looking out at his team with cold, absolute certainty. "And I am going to say this to all of you right now. If we lose this corporate war against Leon Debestez... we are going to lose our country, definitely."
Kniya's gaze hardened into pure steel.
"So yeah," Kniya concluded darkly. "We are going to have a very harsh time from now."
The Industrial Sabotage
The heavy, suffocating silence in the bunker was suddenly shattered by the sharp, piercing ring of Kniya's encrypted corporate phone.
Kniya blinked, pulling the heavy device from his pocket. He checked the caller ID. It was the Chief Operations Manager of Kavilson Steel's heavy manufacturing division.
"What is it?" Kniya answered, his voice still on edge from the regime change revelation. "I am in the middle of a geopolitical crisis."
"Sir!" the factory manager screamed through the receiver, his voice completely raw with panic and background sirens. "Sir, we are under attack! Twelve of our primary steel manufacturing factories have just been bombed! They are completely destroyed! The blast furnaces are collapsing, and many of our employees have been severely injured and killed in the explosions!"
Kniya froze. The color completely drained from his face. His capitalist, profit-driven brain instantly analyzed the sheer, devastating volume of the attack. Twelve heavy factories gone in an instant. This wasn't a protest. This was an act of total war.
Kniya gripped the phone tightly, his knuckles turning white. He took a deep breath, preparing to make one of the most financially devastating decisions of his entire life, but a decision he absolutely had to make.
"Listen to me very carefully," Kniya ordered, his voice dropping into a register of terrifying, uncompromising authority. "Suspend all operations. In every single Kavilson Steel factory and office across the entire Republic. Right now. Evacuate the buildings and grant immediate, indefinite paid leave to everyone. We cannot let this escalate anymore. We need to completely shut it down."
"Sir!" the manager pleaded, terrified of the logistics. "A total shutdown of all operations will cause a catastrophic, multi-billion credit financial loss! We will default on federal contracts! Sir, if we—"
"Just do it!" Kniya roared into the phone, completely abandoning his usual greed. "I don't care about the fucking financial loss or the contracts! I am not letting my workers get blown up! Just do it! Shut everything down!"
Kniya aggressively hung up the phone, his chest heaving as he looked up at Malesh and Filoska.
"They are bombing our steel mills," Kniya whispered, genuine horror in his eyes.
The Global Crisis
Before anyone could even process the destruction of Kavilson Steel, Malesh's private emergency line violently began to ring.
Malesh's deadpan expression tightened. He pulled the heavy receiver from his jacket pocket and pressed it to his ear.
"Malesh speaking," he answered flatly.
"Sir... I am so sorry to inform you about this," the trembling voice of the Sulwadiya Regional Refinery Manager echoed through the speaker. "But we have been hit. More than twenty to thirty of our massive crude oil refineries in the Sulwadiya have been destroyed. They were attacked by coordinated heavy explosives. Sir... more than four hundred of our people got killed."
Malesh's perfectly composed, robotic exterior completely shattered into a million pieces.
"Oh, fucking shit," Malesh cursed, his voice cracking with pure, unfiltered rage and devastation. "What the fuck is happening right now?! This isn't just domestic anymore! This attack has officially spread to the international level!"
Malesh gripped his forehead, his brilliant mind racing through the casualty reports and the structural damage.
"Listen to my executive order," Malesh commanded, his voice cold as ice. "Shut down all operations in every single refinery. Stop all international ocean shipments from this exact second. Evacuate the rigs and shut down all our global offices."
"Sir, please wait!" the refinery manager begged, completely panicking. "A total halt? Sir, it will significantly affect the economy of the entire world! Malesh Energy is a major supplier of crude oil for the entire globe! With this sudden, complete shutdown... the global prices of crude oil will violently rise by thirty to forty percent all over the world within hours! The markets will crash!"
"I don't care about the fucking global economy!" Malesh screamed into the receiver, completely losing his mind. "Just shut the fucking factories down! I don't want any more of my people to be killed because of our corporate operations! Protect the employees and shut the fucking factories down right now!"
Malesh violently smashed the 'END CALL' button and dropped the phone onto the bunker's coffee table.
He stood there, panting heavily, his hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline and the horrific death toll.
"What the hell is literally happening?" Malesh whispered, staring blankly at the concrete wall. "This is so much more endangering than anything we have ever dealt with. We are completely under siege."
Malesh turned to look at Kniya, Salesh, and Filoska, his eyes burning with absolute, deadly clarity.
"Leon Debestez is not just playing games anymore," Malesh declared, his voice trembling with dark fury. "He is attacking us psychologically. He is attacking us physically. He is systematically bombing our economy to the ground. He is attacking the entire country, and he is trying to violently eradicate the very concept of democracy from this world."
The Global Panic
Kniya collapsed heavily onto the bunker sofa, the sheer magnitude of the crisis finally breaking through his arrogant, capitalist shell.
"You are actually right, Malesh," Kniya whispered, rubbing his face with trembling hands. "We just need to think of something immediately. Because if we don't... the global steel and crude oil prices are going to rise at absolutely skyrocketing rates. The everyday people would be completely devastated by the inflation. The entire Republic's economy will collapse."
Malesh silently picked up the heavy remote control and un-muted the massive monitor bolted to the concrete wall, switching the channel to the premier, highly formal global news network.
A grim-faced, impeccably dressed senior news anchor sat behind a polished wooden desk, looking directly into the camera with absolute, terrifying severity.
"Breaking News on the Global Market," the formal reporter announced, his voice tight with professional dread. "Within the last hour, the world has been struck by an unprecedented, coordinated wave of industrial terrorism. Multiple primary manufacturing factories belonging to Kavilson Steel have been aggressively attacked. We are currently confirming that more than one hundred civilian employees have died in the ensuing factory explosions."
Kniya closed his eyes, his breath hitching.
"Furthermore," the anchor continued grimly, reading the fresh reports. "The massive international refineries owned by Malesh Energy Grid Limited in Sulwadiya have also suffered catastrophic bomb attacks. Federal authorities estimate that more than four hundred refinery workers have been killed. This coordinated destruction of our infrastructure is causing a major geopolitical shock to the entire world."
The broadcast shifted to footage of massive, apocalyptic plumes of black smoke rising over the industrial zones of Sulwadiya, and international stock exchanges completely descending into chaotic shouting and brawls.
"The largest conglomerates in the world are facing devastating attacks from unknown attackers," the reporter summarized. "This has resulted in the immediate, indefinite stoppage in the major global supply of crude oil and structural steel. Other manufacturing companies are packing up their operations and fleeing. Foreign sovereign nations are currently starting to panic-buy and hoard as much oil as they physically can. Civilian populations are deeply distressed, and protests have begun erupting in capital cities all over the world. International governments are experiencing severe diplomatic tension, and financial experts predict that if these supply stoppages continue, global crude oil prices are expected to grow by two times their current rate over the next six to seven months."
Kniya stared at the screen, his face completely pale.
"What the fuck?" Kniya breathed, his voice trembling with genuine, unfiltered despair. "After listening to this... what can we actually do now? The situation has got even messier. We cannot do anything right now to stop a global market crash. Things are completely getting out of our hands. It is literally impossible to change anything. Everything is totally messed up."
For the first time since they had started their empires, a clear, undeniable sign of true fear settled over Kniya and Malesh's faces.
Malesh adjusted his tie, his analytical mind trying to process the sheer tactical brilliance of the enemy's geopolitical trap.
"Look at the crowds on the broadcast," Malesh observed, his voice entirely deadpan but tight with anxiety. "Notice how the protests in the capital started out entirely peaceful?"
Kniya frowned, looking at the screen. "Yeah. Why is the royal family organizing peaceful protests? They are funding a regime change. They should be burning the federal buildings."
"Because it is basic political manipulation, Kniya," Malesh explained coldly. "The protests in the start are peaceful because of one specific reason: the democratic government cannot legally or optically attack peaceful protesters without looking like tyrants. It protects the movement. But the royal family will not let it stay that way. They will eventually ensure these crowds turn into violent protests. They will plant agitators to throw the first stone. And when the violence inevitably happens, the federal military will be forced to respond, and the entire country will tear itself apart."