Chapter 590: Cleveness Isn’t Enough

Breejah’s legs trembled beneath her, but nothing she tried could make them stay steady.

"I did everything I could," she said quickly, her voice cracking despite every effort to keep it steady. "We offered him better terms, threatened his path forward, positioned Erik exactly where he needed to be, and even prepared contingencies for the Goddess. Grey Temolt simply—"

"Won."

The single word silenced the room.

The woman sitting behind the enormous black desk couldn’t have been taller than four and a half feet even if she stood on the tips of her toes, and there was nothing visibly alien about her whatsoever.

Wrinkled skin folded gently around dark eyes, wispy silver hair had been tied into a neat bun, and her plain grey dress made her look more like someone’s grandmother than the woman controlling one of the largest corporations involved in the Genesis Games. Nobody else in the room seemed capable of seeing her that way, though.

Breejah certainly didn’t.

"He didn’t merely win," the old woman continued, folding her hands neatly across the desk. "He advertised our largest competitor while doing it."

Breejah swallowed.

Several screens illuminated the room, charts climbing violently upward beneath the purple eclipse logo of Best Of Incorporated. Their share price had jumped after Grey openly wore their equipment during his battle with Caldrin, climbed again when he continued using their products while completing the Arc, and then erupted after two recap episodes spent discussing the impossible accomplishment of a Cracked World clearing Arc One.

The idiot was just too lazy to take most of it off, and they rode off the backs of free advertisement during what was the most entertaining part of the Genesis Games thus far.

"He didn’t even sign an exclusivity contract with them," another executive muttered bitterly. "He did it because he hates us."

"Which makes it considerably worse," the old woman said.

Another screen changed.

Muse Incorporated’s own numbers appeared.

They weren’t collapsing, not yet, but the distance between themselves and Best Of was shrinking at a rate nobody in the room could ignore. Grey had somehow transformed a personal grudge into the most successful practically unpaid advertising campaign their competitor had enjoyed in decades, and every time Muse attempted to crush him, the bastard survived long enough to turn the attempt into another spectacle.

Breejah stepped forward desperately. "Matriarch, please. You have to understand that he isn’t behaving rationally. He knew we could help him, he knew refusing us would make his path harder, and he still chose to antagonize us simply because he could. I did everything I could."

The old woman’s eyes settled on her.

"Are you suggesting irrationality is an excuse for your failure?"

"No, I—"

Breejah froze.

Her abdomen suddenly split open.

There was no attack anyone could see, no movement from the old woman, and certainly no opportunity for Breejah to defend herself. Her body simply separated down the center as though some invisible hand had peeled her apart, blood splashing across the polished floor while her torso collapsed between twitching legs.

"I’m sorry," Breejah gasped, somehow still alive. "Please, I can fix—"

Her head burst.

The old woman calmly lifted one finger, and a servant hurried forward to begin cleaning the blood before it could spread beneath the desk.

"Best Of has gained too much from this already, and the recap episodes have made Grey Temolt more valuable rather than less. Now every company, Producer, and sponsor with ambitions toward Earth will be looking at him as the doorway in."

She leaned back slightly.

"For the first time, a Cracked World has completed the first Arc, and instead of Muse Incorporated being attached to that accomplishment, our competitor is."

Silence filled the room.

The old woman’s gaze shifted toward the screen where Grey’s wild grin remained frozen at the moment he destroyed the Goddess.

"Contact the last Genesis King."

Several executives looked up.

"Grid?" one asked cautiously.

The old woman’s eyes hardened.

"Grey Temolt is awake, and Arc Two is beginning. We have spent enough time trying to turn him into an asset."

Her fingers tapped lightly against the desk.

"Now wipe him off the map."

**

Producer Endes stepped out of the torture room and slowly pulled off one glove.

His laboratory robes had once been white, but enough blood had soaked through the fabric that there were only patches of the original color left. Behind him, someone inside the room released a broken wheeze, but Endes didn’t so much as glance backward before allowing the door to close.

"That took longer than expected," he murmured.

Muskrat had been considerably more stubborn than his appearance suggested.

Still, everyone had a breaking point, and after enough patience, Endes had finally managed to extract something genuinely useful. He had barely begun organizing what he had learned when a communication request appeared before him.

Endes looked at the name and chuckled.

"Well, well. What does my little nephew want?"

Grid’s image appeared.

The two of them weren’t related, but Endes seemed to think it was endearing. Grid didn’t really care one way or another.

Grid ignored him. "Muse Incorporated contacted me."

Endes’s smile faded slightly. "Did they?"

"They want Grey Temolt removed before the second Arc progresses too far."

"And what exactly do you intend to do about that?"

Grid leaned back in his seat, his expression almost bored. "Nothing."

Endes raised an eyebrow.

"I don’t have such lofty sentiments," Grid continued. "Muse approached me because they believe having lost my father means I’ll be willing to bend rules others won’t. Our Race has suffered enough because of people taking constant gambles. I lost my father for the same reason, so I’ll the decision up to you."

"So you called to warn me?"

"I called to give you the information. Do with it what you please."

Endes studied him for several seconds.

Grid smiled lightly. "Consider it a courtesy."

The connection ended.

Endes’s pleasant expression remained for another second before slowly twisting into a sneer.

Courtesy.

That little bastard was always hopping from one branch to another, believing cleverness alone made him impossible to catch. Grid undoubtedly knew exactly what would happen once Endes learned Muse wanted Grey dead, and by passing the information along rather than acting himself, he got to keep his hands clean while another faction was dragged into the mess.

There were just some gaps talent alone couldn’t cover.

Endes glanced back toward the closed torture-room door.

"Revenge, is it?"

Endes smiled. The little shit really thought nobody could see through his real intentions.

"We’ll see about that."