Starting With an SSS-Rank Goddess Summon!

The cracked asphalt turned into smooth swept cobblestones.

The garish blinding neon billboards advertising mercenary contracts and cheap health potions vanished, replaced entirely by elegant glowing starlight lamps and manicured, enchanted flora lining the sidewalks.

The air outside the taxi stopped smelling like regular and it changed into the crisp clean scent of imported pine and purified ambient mana.

”We’re here, sir,” the driver announced, pulling the taxi to a smooth halt along a pristine curb. ”The Silverleaf Commercial District.”

Silas nudged Lia gently. ”Wake up. We’re here.”

Lia groaned, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

Silas opened the door, stepping out onto the cobblestones and turning back to the partition.

”Wait right here,” Silas instructed the driver, pointing a firm finger at the man. ”I’ll pay you triple your daily rate to take us back to my apartment when we’re done.”

The driver’s eyes went wide with pure, unadulterated financial joy. ”I won’t move an inch, my Lord! Take all the time you need!”

Silas closed the door and turned around.

Lia stepped out of the cab right behind him, completely freezing in place as she looked around.

The Silverleaf commercial district was overwhelming... It was where he stayed though he stayed in the residential one.

Massive multi-story buildings constructed almost entirely from enchanted reinforced glass and pristine white marble towered over them.

The display windows were filled with incredibly intricate, glowing silk garments, tailored coats, and mannequins draped in high-end tactical wear that cost more than a slum block’s annual GDP.

Standing directly in front of them was the sprawling, immaculate boutique.

The gold-leaf sign above the double doors practically glowed in the night air: [The Weaver’s Spire].

”Silas...” Lia whispered, her jaw hanging open as she stared at the glowing marble pillars. ”This place looks like a palace. Are you sure they even let normal people in here?”

”I’m not a normal person anymore,” Silas stated flatly.

He placed his hand on the small of her back and pushed her forward. ”Walk.”

They approached the heavy glass double doors. They slid open silently, powered by proximity runes.

The exact moment Silas and Lia stepped inside, they were assaulted by an overwhelming change.

The interior of Weaver’s Spire didn’t smell like the damp city rain.

It smelled aggressively of imported lavender expensive floral perfumes, and the crisp, undeniable scent of freshly pressed enchanted linen.

The lighting was soft and incredibly warm, designed to highlight the flawless stitching of the garments on display. Soft classical string music played from hidden magical acoustic crystals embedded in the high ceiling.

The boutique was busier than the last time Silas had been here... There were several actual customers... wealthy aristocratic women and high-tier corporate wives browsing the silk scarf racks and inspecting the outerwear.

Thankfully, there was no arrogant, screaming Young Master in sight.

Standing behind the massive, polished white marble counter near the center of the showroom were the three female clerks dressed in their immaculate, perfectly tailored black-and-gold uniforms.

The lead clerk, a stunning woman with perfectly styled blonde hair, was currently ringing up a purchase for an older woman draped in furs.

Silas walked directly toward the counter, his heavy boots clicking rhythmically against the pristine hardwood floor. Lia trailed nervously behind him, hyper-aware of the dirty puddles her worn sneakers were leaving on the immaculate floorboards.

As Silas approached, the blonde clerk looked up.

Her professional rehearsed customer-service smile instantly vanished, replaced by an expression of complete shock.

She recognized him immediately.

It was impossible to forget the ridiculously handsome, terrifyingly broad-shouldered Lord who had literally backhanded a Blackwood noble across the room, ordered two hundred and sixteen custom outfits, and casually dropped four hundred thousand Spirit Credits without blinking...

”L-Lord Graves!” Elise gasped, completely abandoning the older woman in furs to practically throw herself over the marble counter in greeting.

Her cheeks instantly flushed a brilliant violently hot shade of crimson. ”Welcome back to Weaver’s Spire! It is an absolute honor to see you again so soon!”

The other two clerks looked up, their eyes widening in identical terrified infatuation as they simultaneously bowed deeply behind the register.

Silas stopped at the counter. He offered Elise a simple, polite nod.

”Good evening, Elise.”

Elise looked like she was about to faint from the validation of him remembering her name.

”How may I serve you today, my Lord? Do you require further adjustments to the order for your soldiers? We already have fifty of the reinforced combat tunics running through the runic looms as we speak!”

”The other ones you gave me are fine,” Silas replied smoothly, waving off the concern.

He stepped to the side, reaching out and gently pulling Lia out from behind his heavy trench coat.

Elise blinked, looking down at the small incredibly scruffy eleven-year-old girl drowning in the oversized gray t-shirt.

”This is my sister, Lia,” Silas introduced her, his deep voice carrying authority.

He looked directly into Elise’s eyes. ”I want you to customize her... Make her look quite pretty, and give her the highest quality, most durable clothes you have in your inventory. I’m paying.”

Elise’s entire professional demeanor changed in a fraction of a second.

She didn’t look at Lia with the disgust an aristocrat usually reserved for a slum-rat. She looked at Lia like she was staring at a blank lucrative canvas handed to her by a god of wealth.

”It would be my pleasure, Lord Graves,” Elise breathed out, her eyes shining with predatory tailoring instincts.

”Wait, what?” Lia panicked, her eyes darting between Silas and the blonde clerk. ”No, wait, I just need a sweater! Seriously, I’m fine with just a—”

”Take her,” Silas ordered.

”Girls!” Elise snapped her fingers, her voice cutting across the boutique ruthlessly.

The other two clerks moved with terrifying precision.

They flanked Lia instantly, grabbing the eleven-year-old girl firmly by the arms before she could even process what was happening.

”Let me go!” Lia shrieked, kicking her worn-out sneakers wildly against the floorboards as they physically hoisted her off the ground. ”Silas! Help me! They’re kidnapping me! It’s a trap!”

”We promise to take excellent care of her, my Lord,” Elise assured him with a bright terrifying smile, completely ignoring the screaming child as she grabbed a glowing digital measuring tape off the counter. ”Please, have a seat. We will show you the options as we build the wardrobe.”

”Have fun,” Silas called out dryly, walking over to a plush high-backed velvet chair positioned directly outside the heavy oak doors of the primary fitting rooms.

He sat down, crossing his long legs and resting his arms on the armrests.

For the next forty-five minutes, Weaver’s Spire descended into a chaotic expensive fashion montage that was now usual anytime Silas was around.

The heavy oak door to the fitting room swung open.

Lia trudged out, her arms crossed aggressively over her chest with her face burning bright red.

Elise had dressed her in a ridiculously frilly, layered noble gown made of pale pink silk, complete with highly impractical, stiff leather dress shoes and a massive bow tied around her waist.

Lia looked like a deeply unhappy, highly explosive cupcake.

”Absolutely not...” Silas rejected it instantly, shaking his head. ”She can’t run in that. If a low-tier slime jumped out of an alley, that skirt would trip her before she could draw a knife.”

”I am not wearing this!” Lia yelled, glaring at him. ”Do you know how much this costs?! The tag says two thousand credits! For a bow! Take it off me!”

’I mean it’s quite cheap though...’ Silas thought.

Elise materialized behind her, completely unbothered by the rejection. ”Understood, my Lord! High mobility. We will adjust!”

Elise grabbed Lia by the shoulders and dragged her backward into the fitting room.

Ten minutes later, the door swung open again.

This time, Lia walked out looking entirely different.

Elise had dressed her in a sleek, high-end urban stealth outfit. She wore a pair of dark, reinforced denim pants, a fitted breathable black shirt, and a stunning, deep-crimson jacket woven from temperature-regulating spider-silk.

Her ratty sneakers were gone, replaced by a pair of sturdy polished black leather boots with silent anti-slip soles.

Lia looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers.

The clothes fit her perfectly, hugging her small frame without restricting her movement.

She looked like her big Brother though she would never be as cool as him.

”Now that,” Silas noted, leaning forward in his velvet chair and resting his chin on his knuckles, ”is much better.”

He looked critically at the stitching.

”The material on the jacket is good. Spider-silk handles kinetic friction well. But check the gussets around the knees on the denim. If she has to drop into a crouch or climb a fire escape for example, standard denim will chafe. Reinforce the inner lining with a soft, breathable mana-weave.”

Elise practically swooned at his deep evaluation. ”Your eye for detail is simply magnificent, Lord Graves! I will have the seamstresses reinforce the joints immediately!”

”This jacket feels weird,” Lia muttered, though she couldn’t hide the small amazed smile touching the corners of her lips as she zipped it up. ”It’s super light, but I’m completely warm. It’s like wearing a heater.”

”It’s enchanted,” Silas told her flatly.

He looked at Elise. ”I want five sets of the pants, ten of the breathable shirts in different dark colors, and three of those spider-silk jackets... Red, dark blue, and black. Make sure the boots are treated for heavy water resistance.”

Lia’s eyes widened in horror. She grabbed the price tag dangling from the sleeve of the jacket and violently flipped it over.

”Five sets?!” Lia shrieked, her voice cracking. ”Silas! This jacket alone is four thousand credits! You are literally buying enough clothes to fund a rebel army! Stop it!”

”Throw in three sets of heavy winter sleepwear and a durable duffel bag to carry it all in...” Silas instructed Elise, completely ignoring the screaming eleven-year-old. ”And a pair of comfortable running shoes.”

”Yes, my Lord!” Elise beamed, furiously typing the massive order into her glowing datapad. ”We will have it packed and magically compressed into the duffel bag within ten minutes!”

Elise dragged Lia back into the fitting room to change her back into the newly purchased tactical gear so she could walk out wearing it.

Silas leaned back in his plush velvet chair, letting out a long satisfied exhale.

Dressing his sister in high-end wear wasn’t just a flex of his new wealth... it was a baseline security measure.

If he was going to be dragging her around Valoria City or hiding her in his apartment while he ran his territory, she needed clothing that could absorb a minor magical impact and boots that would let her run away if things went sideways.

He reached into the inner pocket of his trench coat and pulled out his phone to check the time.

The exact second the screen lit up, Silas froze.

The phone didn’t show the standard lock screen.

It was flashing with a massive, blaring red priority notification that overrode all of his internal system apps.

The notification banner carried the distinct encrypted golden seal of the Country’s High Council... the pinnacle of authority within the terrestrial World Government.

Silas tapped the notification.

The screen expanded into a breaking news bulletin broadcast across every registered Lord terminal in the region.

[BREAKING NEWS: THE SPONSORSHIP OFFER FROM THE WORD COUNCIL TO THE LORD OF BLESSED LAND HAS GONE UP FROM 3 BILLION TO EIGHT BILLION!]

[The Valoria High Council recognizes the unprecedented regional score achieved by the independent territory designated as ’Blessed Land’. The World Government is formally offering an immediate uncontested 8 Billion SC buyout for the complete transfer of territorial rights, blueprints, and authority. Any Lord with verifiable proof of ownership is commanded to report to the Central Spire immediately.]

Silas stared at the glowing screen as the numbers completely flatlined his brain.

’Eight billion,’ Silas thought with a cold chill spreading through his veins. ’Eight... billion. That isn’t just money... That is the GDP of a small country!’

He didn’t feel a rush of excitement nor did he feel the euphoric high of hitting the ultimate jackpot.

He felt a massive, suffocating target being painted directly onto his back.

Silas let out a heavy, tired sigh, slumping lower in the velvet chair.

”I’m not selling my rights...”

He muttered the words aloud.

He didn’t mind negotiating. In fact, his inner cynic loved the idea of scamming the World Government.

He could easily walk into the Central Spire, demand a massive upfront advance, sign a bunch of legally ambiguous proxy contracts, and leverage his combat superiority to gut the world government dry without giving them a single square inch of his actual territory.

But there was a massive critical flaw in that plan...

He needed a disguise.