Reborn as the Failed Lord with my Resource Gathering System.

"What the hell do you mean the entire Yaima group was wiped out by another noble? How did they sneak an entire army into the city without anyone whispering a single word to me about this?"

Governor Alabaster hurled the stack of ledgers across the room.

They slammed against the far wall, scattering loose papers like confetti over the expensive, yet dust-coated rug.

Seated at the opposite side of the heavy mahogany table was his assistant, a man whose face was pale and slick with sweat. He clutched a single, trembling book in his hands, containing the disastrous report he was currently delivering to the Governor of the Eastern Territory.

"That is not all, Your Grace," the assistant stammered, flinching as Alabaster slammed his fist onto the table. "They have also claimed all the oil mines. They are requesting to speak with you immediately about transferring the legal rights to Baron Lord Dorian Aurelian."

This made Alabaster frown even deeper, the veins in his forehead bulging.

The guard standing at the entrance of the door couldn't help but look away in fear, praying he wouldn't become the target of the Governor's wrath.

"WHAT?!!! Are you kidding me right now? A fucking Baron is issuing rights demands to me? What is this, some kind of sick joke?!"

Seeing the unbridled rage on his leader's face, the assistant made sure to pick his next words with extreme caution.

"I—I am afraid he is no ordinary Baron, sir. This man… intelligence reports suggest he is quite close to the King. There are rumors circulating in the capital that he is soon to be elevated. Not just to Duke, but potentially an Archduke, placing him above the three Great Dukes of Lumberg."

"Archduke?" The word hung in the air like a curse.

"This has to be a nightmare. No, it has to be a fever dream." Alabaster collapsed back into his plush chair, trying to force his racing heart to calm down.

He had heard the whispers about a rising star in the capital, a man named Dorian, but he had dismissed them as court gossip.

To think this man would come here, to this hidden, forgotten cesspit of a city, was beyond his comprehension.

The Red District was a place no one ever talked about; it was a shadow on the map.

That anonymity was the only reason Alabaster had been able to thrive this far, lining his pockets with black gold without facing any inquiries from the crown.

Until now. Until Dorian Aurelian appeared.

"Dammit!" The Governor slammed his hand on the table again, the wood groaning under the impact.

His mind raced. He thought of the safe in the wall, packed with gold bars and illicit deeds.

He could pack everything, summon his personal guard, and flee the kingdom tonight. He could hide in a neighboring nation until the heat died down.

Worst case scenario, if pushed into a corner, he could try to assassinate Dorian.

But if the reports were true—if this Baron had cleared out the entire Yaima paramilitary force in less than two days—then an assassination attempt would be suicide.

'Running. Running is the only option.'

He stood up abruptly, intent on gathering his valuables. But just before he could take a step, a shadow fell over the room, blocking out the afternoon sun.

He glanced at the large window behind his desk.

There, hovering silently outside the glass, was a nightmare made flesh. A massive white dragon, its scales gleaming like pearls, stared directly at him with huge, vertical red pupils.

Alabaster froze, his breath caught in his throat. The assistant followed his gaze and let out a strangled whimper. The guard by the door dropped his spear, the clatter echoing loudly in the sudden silence.

Bash!

The glass exploded inward.

It wasn't the dragon attacking, but a coordinated breach. Before the shards even hit the floor, Aurelian soldiers poured through the windows and kicked open the main doors as though they owned the building.

The single guard in the room was disarmed and forced to his knees before he could even reach for his sword. Aces, moving with a blur of speed, slammed the assistant against the wall, pinning him there.

Behind the Governor, a shadow materialized. Emily, the leader of the Yins, stood there, her face covered by her mask, a cold blade pressed firmly against Alabaster's jugular.

But even with a knife at his throat, Alabaster didn't move. He couldn't take his eyes off the window.

The white dragon lowered its head, bringing its snout level with the broken window frame. Standing casually on the beast's nose, looking as if he were merely stepping off a low carriage step, was Dorian.

He stepped into the room, his boots crunching on the broken glass. He didn't acknowledge the trembling Governor, the pinned assistant, or the armed soldiers.

He simply walked to the guest chair opposite the Governor's desk, pulled it out, and sat down.

Maria, silent and lethal as always, took her place at his right hand.

Only then did Dorian finally speak.

"Well, good afternoon to you, Governor. I do hope the day finds you well."

Alabaster swallowed hard, the sound audible in the quiet room. He looked up at the ceiling for a brief second, closing his eyes in defeat. If this man was here—riding a dragon, no less—there was no escape.

"Good afternoon to you too, Your Grace," the Governor said, managing a slight bow of his head, though it was born of terror, not respect.

"Governor Alabaster, I have heard so much about you. I've been trying to have this one-on-one talk with you for a while. Now is a better time than any."

Alabaster's hand drifted slowly, stylishly, towards his lap, inches away from the underside of the desk where a loaded, magical flintlock pistol and a serrated dagger were strapped. Unbeknownst to him, Emily's eyes behind her mask narrowed, tracking the subtle movement.

"Have you now?" Alabaster forced a smile. "The city has always been open to visitors."

"Really? I assumed you would feel threatened by my presence. You seem like the kind of person who would eliminate anyone who jeopardized his… private enterprises. I was just trying to make sure I didn't get in trouble."

"You are probably overthinking it!"

The Governor, feigning a burst of jovial laughter, finally gripped the hilt of the hidden dagger. His eyes flashed with desperate madness. He lunged.

His hand shot out from under the table, the blade gleaming, aiming directly for Dorian's chest—a desperate, final move to decapitate the snake.

But before the blade could travel an inch further, Maria moved.

It wasn't a blur; it was instantaneous. One moment she was standing still, the next she was in motion. She didn't draw her sword. She simply intercepted the Governor's attacking arm with her bare hand.

CRACK!

The sound was wet and sickening, like a tree branch snapping in a storm, followed immediately by a gurgling, high-pitched shriek from Alabaster.

Maria hadn't just stopped the blow. She had gripped his wrist and twisted with the overwhelming force of a Lord-rank warrior. The Governor's hand, still clutching the knife, was torn violently from the socket, the skin and tendons shredding under the torque. It fell onto the table with a heavy, wet thud—a severed, mangled lump of meat.

Maria retracted her hand just as quickly, wiping a speck of blood onto a handkerchief she produced from her pocket. Her expression was utterly unchanged, her eyes holding that cool, detached look. She returned to her position beside Dorian, a silent, lethal statue.

Dorian didn't even flinch. He didn't blink. He glanced down at the severed hand on the table—the knife still grasped by the lifeless, twitching fingers—then slowly lifted his gaze back to the Governor.

Alabaster was clutching the spurting stump of his wrist, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated agony and shock. He couldn't scream; the air had been knocked out of him by the sheer violence of the counter-attack.

"Such terrible manners, Governor Alabaster," Dorian said, his tone one of mild disappointment, as if reprimanding a child for spilling tea. "I just told you I was trying to avoid trouble."

Emily, who still had her own knife at his neck, pressed harder, the cold steel biting into his skin, forcing a choked gasp out of the injured man. The guard and the assistant watched in horrified silence, their wills completely broken by the display.

"I-I..." Alabaster choked, blood beginning to pool rapidly on the expensive mahogany table, soaking into his documents. His attempt to look away from his own detached hand failed, his mind unable to comprehend the sheer speed and inhuman force behind the attack.

"Now that we've established who is in charge of setting the rules for our little conversation," Dorian continued, leaning slightly forward, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Let's talk about those legal rights."