Dungeon King: The Hidden Ruler-Chapter 97: [Crash and Cover 3] Collusion Protocol

The Titan Corp executive boardroom was quiet, soundproofed to the point of stillness. Thick-paneled walls lined with frosted light strips gave everything a clean, corporate gloss—expensive but sterile. A long obsidian table stretched across the center, untouched bottled water placed evenly along its surface. One side of the room bore Titan’s insignia in matte silver; the other, a large screen already flickering with the Helix Media logo.

Elara sat two seats from the end, blazer pressed, notepad ready. She wasn’t used to these meetings—her badge usually scanned her into QA lounges, not boardrooms. But this wasn’t a usual week.

Across the table, Marion, Titan’s head of PR, adjusted her earpiece and kept her voice even as the video call loaded.

"Remember," she murmured to Elara, "You’re here just as requirement. We’re showing Helix that every department is represented, that we’re taking this seriously. Don’t speak unless directly addressed."

Elara gave a small nod.

The screen clicked into focus. Sylvia, Helix’s External Strategy Director, appeared in crisp focus, already mid-smile.

Behind the gloss of flawless smiles and measured voices, the two women across the video call might as well have been sitting at a poker table stacked with loaded chips and venom.

Sylvia from Helix opened with practiced confidence. "We wanted to get ahead of the noise. I assume you’ve heard—we’ve terminated Neko."

"Heard it. Watched it trend," Marion of Titan replied. "Fast move. The kind you make when there’s more at stake than just one influencer."

"She made the trouble herself. We dropped her before the fallout spread. That’s just good containment."

"Is that what this is? Containment? Or did she drag Helix closer to something you don’t want exposed?"

Sylvia’s eyes gleamed, her smile unwavering. "If you’re implying this points back to Helix, tread carefully. We’ve run our checks. Nothing links our campaign tools to your backend. She abused the system—but the system wasn’t ours."

"She moved like she knows what she’s doing. That kind of precision doesn’t come from guessing."

"Let’s stop pretending. Neko had help. Order placement when token spikes. Optimal timing windows. That’s insider guidance, not influencer luck."

Marion’s voice cooled. "You don’t come here all the way just to brag about how the crypto market works, do you?"

Sylvia leaned in slightly. "Oh, you think I don’t know the dirty little tricks Titan’s been pulling? You’ve been playing market god behind the curtain for years. Favoring certain guilds. Controlling supply flow. We’ve seen the ripples—you’re just upset someone else learned how to surf them."

Elara sat frozen, her pen unmoving. The lines between villain and victim had evaporated. Behind their perfect corporate polish, they were snakes—coiled, poised, smiling as they bit.

"You still have no base ground if you want to push that argument publicly," Marion said.

Sylvia just smiled wider. "You forget who we are, honey? We’re a media company—armed with writers, fed by readers. Stakeholders trust us. If you want to bleed, we can make it headline-worthy. It’ll be messy. Loud. And very, very public."

"You’d burn the house down with both of us in it?"

"Only if you strike the first match. But I’d prefer something cleaner. We offer the story: ’Titan Launches Economy Reform Initiative.’ You’re the hero. Neko fades into memory. We keep our distance, and your audit dies quietly."

"And if we decide to escalate?"

"Then Helix confirms we terminated her after noticing suspicious trader behavior. And we ask the public why Titan never disclosed the systemic vulnerabilities we flagged months ago. We’ll say we tried to help. You stonewalled us. The rest writes itself."

"You’re playing high-stakes poker with an empty hand."

"We don’t need cards. We own the table. And the dealer. And half the audience."

Marion’s jaw flexed. "...Fine. Send the draft. We’ll review it."

"You’ll love it. Crisp. Controlled. Just enough spin to keep the vultures full."

"Next time one of yours plays the system, make sure she doesn’t leave footprints."

"Next time one of yours builds the system, try not to leave the door unlocked."

The call ended. The screen dimmed.

The silence that followed wasn’t relief—it was residue. Thick, clinical, as if the air itself had absorbed everything ugly and chose to keep it sealed in.

Elara sat still, notebook untouched.

Marion leaned back in her chair and exhaled through her nose. Without another word, she stood and walked out of the boardroom, leaving Elara behind like she wasn’t there. Not even a glance back.

Elara wrote one line on the first page:

They both knew. And neither cared.

She stared at the words for a long moment, then slowly capped her pen. The room was still sealed in silence, just her and the low hum from the air conditioner.

Her eyes flicked to the blank screen, its soft glow fading. It felt like a stage that had just closed the curtains on a rigged play. Marion hadn’t even acknowledged her. She was never meant to matter.

Elara sat back, blazer creasing at the shoulders. This wasn’t QA. This wasn’t about bugs, balance issues, or missed patch notes. This was about power, and who got to rewrite the rules when the game crashed.

She wasn’t afraid. Not yet. But she was something worse: aware.

The room smelled like expensive polish and synthetic air, but under it all, she felt the rot.

If something broke, she knew exactly who’d be blamed. Not the ones who caused it.

The ones who were close enough to call collateral.

It could be her.

Maybe that’s why she was invited to this meeting.

The old Elara would have trembled in fear—but not anymore.

She reached into her desk drawer and pulled out her phone. The voice recording was still running.

With a smile, she stopped the recording and uploaded it to her cloud.

Let this be my safety insurance.

Just knowing the file existed gave her a strange kind of calm. Not safety—never that—but leverage. A lifeline, if the waters turned black.

Wearing a confident smile, she stood up and walked out of the meeting room.

***

Meanwhile, in the world Titan Corp created, the guild hall of Frayed Ledger remained as peaceful as ever.

"What?" Raven asked, brows furrowed.

"Like I said, man—we’re slowing down for now. Titan’s gonna run some audits, poke around for a week or so. Plus, there’s bound to be some heat between Titan Corp and Helix Media, which is—"

Theo didn’t get to finish.

"No, not that," Raven interrupted. "The one after that."

"Oh. That. Yeah, it means our Attic Squad—"

"Attic Squad?"

"Yeah, that’s what she called us on the stream. I think it’s kinda cool, so..."

"That name sounds stupid."

"You got a better one?" Theo flashed his usual dad grin.

"No."

"It’s settled then." Theo grinned again.

"You have a horrible sense for names," Catria called out from the crafting room next door.

"Well, do you have a better one, Miss Crafter?"

"No."

Theo shrugged toward Raven. "Okay, then it’s kinda settled."

Raven leaned back in his seat. "Yeah, I got what you mean. Dungeons, materials, and all that. Titan’s probably scanning everything now. Is everything safe on our side?"

Theo nodded. "No problem at all. I can reduce output and quantity. Catria can craft in lower tiers—blue or purple. No need to push red or gold quality right now."

"I see."

"Well, yeah. That means you and your uh—sweaty friends—might want to steer a little away from dungeons. Could be dangerous. After all, there’s a lot to do in Primordial Abyss, right? I mean, you could try something new in the game. I know a few players who are great at setting prices and selling items, and I bet Catria has some rivals in the crafting scene too—"

Theo’s words were cut off by a voice from the next room.

"Nope. I don’t know anyone," Catria called out.

"Aw, come on, just play along, will you? I’m trying to cheer this gloomy guy up," Theo chuckled, calling back to her.

Raven curled a smile. "Alright, alright. I get what you mean. I’m heading out for now."

He left the guild hall.

Raven stood for a moment, letting Theo’s words echo in the back of his mind. The guild hall felt too still—like something was waiting, just out of sight.

No dungeon. Last time he had to steer clear of dungeons like this was during the Emberforge Incident—when The Throne Wars began and gave him something else to focus on beyond PvP pressure.

He let out a long sigh.

Well then. Time for PvE.

But what? Regular missions seemed like mundane tasks—fetch this, deliver that—and none had caught his interest so far. Back during beta testing, PvE was still a mess, riddled with glitches, so he’d never taken an interest in PvE missions.

He walked through the hall of House Seravin, the mansion of an ancient family, so massive it had become a zone-city of its own. His eyes caught a glimpse of an NPC tucked into the corner of worn out Seravin Manor long hall.

Unnoticed, weary, her armor worn and dented. A dwarf.

Raven stopped. Nobody was paying attention to her—not even the players walking past.

She was sitting in the shadowed inlet of the room, partially obscured by a stack of crates.

"You alright?" Raven asked as he approached her.

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