The Bliat Industries' reckoning

Gino’s Retribution & The Hypnotic Duel of the Ages

The Patriarch’s Wrath Unleashed

Gino Pecorelli’s study smelled of Cuban cigars and spilled Macallan M. The antique clock on the mahogany desk ticked like a detonation countdown.

"You let my son walk away."

The old billionaire's raspy baritone was a glacier sliding over gravel. The three men standing before him—Bliat’s head of security, a Swiss banker with dead eyes, and a Vatican-connected fixer—did not fidget.

"..."

They knew better.

The fixer cleared his throat. "Signore, the Financial Times interview has already—"

"I don’t pay you to state the fucking obvious." Gino’s knuckles whitened around his tumbler. "I have you on my roll to make nuisances disappear. And Vasudeva Mahayana, that charlatan... he is a problem."

A dossier slid across the desk.

Surveillance photos of Vasudeva’s clinic.

Bank transfers to offshore accounts.

And a single, damning page—Elder Janus’s personal assessment.

"The albino is no ordinary hypnotist," the fixer murmured. "He’s dismantled years of conditioning within days. If he can break Damien’s curse—"

"Then he dies." Gino’s smile was a razor slash. "Call in the Ninth Protocol."

The banker stiffened. The Ninth Protocol meant one thing: the Gladio network’s wetwork division.

Layla’s old unit.

The Hypnotist Guild’s Summons

Vasudeva received the Guild’s summons on vellum parchment, sealed with wax bearing the All-Seeing Eye of Horus.

"How interesting..."

Amaranthine, the Guild’s High Inquisitor, awaited him in a Venetian palazzo that didn’t exist on any map. The chamber was circular, its walls lined with obsidian mirrors that reflected not faces, but souls.

"You’ve overstepped, Vasudeva... or shall I call you Stefano?" Amaranthine’s voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere. "Turning a billionaire heir into your acolyte? Erasing Elder Janus’s work? The Guild permits many things… but not this."

Vasudeva merely smiled, running a finger along the edge of a mirror. Blood welled.

"Permit? You speak as if you have authority over the ****."

A gasp rippled through the dozen Guild elders present. No one bled in the Chamber of Reflection unless the mirrors willed it.

Then—

Elder Janus stepped forward.

"Impudent junior..."

Clad in saffron robes that whispered of forgotten monasteries, the seasoned spiritual master's presence bent the light.

"A duel," he intoned. "You and I. No proxies. No illusions. We settle this as experts of the Greater Stasis realm."

The Guild elders recoiled.

"This is too sudden!"

"Finally, we can have a close look to the old geezer's skills..."

"This fledgling hypnotist has just made his debut and here they are, the great elders trying to squash a promising talent."

A hypnotic duel hadn’t been fought since 1893, when Rasputin melted a cardinal’s mind in St. Petersburg.

Vasudeva tilted his head. "Terms?"

"If I win, you undo everything. Damien returns to his father. Layla’s mind is wiped."

Stefano sensed something was off... if these had been the only things they were after the Bliat group could have just negotiated with him. Or maybe they didn't view him as a proper power player, without no real backing, it was much easier to squash the enemy and steal everything right?

"Indeed, Osiris Temple is still too weak as a faction. We need allies."

Regardless he would play along with this charade for now.

"And if I win?"

Janus’s smile was a corpse’s rigor mortis. "Then the Pecorelli dynasty falls by your hand."