Chapter 30: Two Days, Level 58!? The Beaumont Trading Consortium Meeting!

Chapter 30: Chapter 30: Two Days, Level 58!? The Beaumont Trading Consortium Meeting!

The next morning.

Nathaniel Beaumont arrived at the Westmere Professional Center as usual.

The moment Administrator Lucas Bennett spotted him, he immediately stood up. His attitude had changed so much that even his way of addressing Nathaniel was different.

"Sir, Hell difficulty again today?"

Nathaniel nodded.

"Yes."

Lucas didn’t ask any unnecessary questions.

He had learned his lesson over the past two days. There was no point trying to persuade Nathaniel to slow down, and there was certainly no point questioning his ability to clear dungeons.

Instead, Lucas immediately opened the dungeon selection interface and located the highest-experience dungeon available within Nathaniel’s current level range.

"This dungeon has a Level 40 entry requirement. Hell difficulty is available."

Nathaniel glanced at the information.

"Thank you for your hard work."

Lucas nearly straightened up out of sheer reflex.

"Not at all, sir! It’s my job!"

He wasn’t being polite merely for the sake of appearances.

By now, he had completely adjusted his understanding of his role.

Stop Nathaniel from entering a dungeon?

Absolutely not.

Waste his time with unnecessary questions?

Even worse.

His responsibility was to ensure that Nathaniel’s dungeon runs proceeded as smoothly as possible.

If this young man wanted to turn dungeon grinding into a full-time profession, Lucas would make sure the doors were open, the information was ready, and the next destination was waiting before Nathaniel even asked.

He wasn’t about to become the person who delayed a monster’s growth.

With the arrangements completed, Nathaniel stepped into the portal.

And so, another day of unbelievable dungeon clears began.

Throughout the morning and afternoon, the Professional Center’s notification screens continued flashing with new results.

Dungeon after dungeon.

Hell difficulty after Hell difficulty.

Another record shattered, another SSS rating recorded.

Nathaniel’s Shadow Soldiers moved through the dungeons like a coordinated force, overwhelming monster groups and surrounding powerful enemies before they could exploit their numerical advantage.

He adjusted the size of each deployment to suit the dungeon. Smaller groups handled scattered enemies, while larger forces converged on dangerous monsters and bosses.

There was no need to waste time fighting every battle with Nathaniel personally at the front.

His soldiers were his strength.

And he was learning to use that strength more efficiently with every run.

By evening, the portal finally lit up once more.

Nathaniel walked out.

His clothes were still clean, and his breathing remained steady. However, a faint trace of fatigue had appeared in his eyes.

Even with attributes far beyond those of ordinary professionals, he wasn’t immune to mental exhaustion. Repeatedly entering dungeons, issuing commands, monitoring battles, and making decisions demanded concentration.

His body could keep going.

His mind still needed to process everything.

Nevertheless, the rewards had been extraordinary.

Nathaniel opened his status interface.

[Name: Nathaniel Beaumont]

[Class: God of Shadows]

[Level: 58]

He stared at the number for a moment.

One and a half days.

From Level 13 to Level 58.

Even he had to admit that the speed was ridiculous.

A faint smile finally appeared on his face.

According to the professional system’s rules, a person could undergo their first class advancement upon reaching Level 100.

The advancement wasn’t merely a change in title or a symbolic achievement.

It represented a significant step forward in a professional’s development.

Their level of existence would rise, their class core would become more complete, and their potential would begin to unfold in new ways.

Most importantly, they would gain access to new class skills.

For an ordinary professional, a new skill might provide a useful improvement.

For Nathaniel, it could transform the entire nature of his army.

A new summoning ability, a stronger command skill, or an enhancement to his existing powers could potentially change how he fought and how many enemies he could overcome at once.

He had no intention of wasting that opportunity.

Nathaniel closed his interface, and a sharp glint appeared in his eyes.

"One week at most."

He looked toward the dungeon portals.

"I’ll complete my first advancement within a week."

His journey had only just begun.

And he still had a long way to go before he could search the Abyss Rift for his parents.

...

Westmere, Beaumont Trading Consortium Headquarters

On the same evening, a very different kind of battle was taking place.

It had nothing to do with monsters, dungeons, or Shadow Soldiers.

It concerned money, authority, and the future of one of Westmere’s most powerful commercial organizations.

At the top of the Beaumont Trading Consortium’s headquarters, the atmosphere inside the executive conference room was tense.

A twenty-meter-long black conference table dominated the room.

Senior executives sat on both sides, including the heads of equipment trading, potion production, dungeon-material procurement, and several other departments. A number of veteran shareholders were also present.

These were the people who managed the consortium’s daily operations and controlled much of its commercial network.

In the past, when Nathan Beaumont and Eleanor Beaumont were still around, these executives had never dared to entertain improper ambitions during meetings.

The two founders had possessed more than wealth and business acumen.

They were also two of Westmere’s Three Pillars.

Their personal strength, reputation, resources, and connections had been enough to suppress opposition both inside and outside the organization.

No one had wanted to challenge their authority.

But the situation had changed.

The news had not yet been officially announced to the public, but most of the executives present had reliable sources of information.

They knew about the spatial storm.

They knew the Three Pillars had reportedly fallen in battle.

And they knew that the Beaumont Trading Consortium had suddenly lost its greatest source of protection.

The chairman’s seat at the head of the table remained empty.

It belonged to Nathan Beaumont.

No one had dared to sit there.

Yet the expressions of the people looking toward that empty chair revealed a complicated mixture of emotions.

Some were genuinely worried about the consortium’s survival.

Others were calculating how to protect their own wealth.

And a few had already begun considering how to seize control.

After a prolonged silence, a slightly plump middle-aged man finally spoke.

He was Department Head Colin Whitmore, the executive responsible for the consortium’s equipment-trading division.

"Everyone here understands the situation."

He looked around the table.

"Chairman Nathan and Chairwoman Eleanor encountered a spatial storm near the Abyss Rift. They are currently presumed dead."

He paused, allowing the words to settle.

"Once this information becomes public, the consortium will inevitably face severe instability. We need to prepare before that happens."

An elderly man with graying hair gave a cold snort.

"Prepare? Our first priority should be survival."

He leaned forward.

"The Beaumont Trading Consortium has expanded rapidly over the past several years. In the process, we’ve crossed more than a few powerful competitors."

He glanced around the table.

"While the two chairmen were here, nobody dared to challenge us openly. But now that they’ve disappeared, do you seriously believe those people will sit quietly and watch?"

Another executive immediately nodded.

"He’s right."

He began counting off names on his fingers.

"The Southern Province’s Golden Harvest Consortium, the Blackstone Trading Group, and Everwell Pharmaceuticals. How long have they been trying to gain control of our supply chains?"

His expression darkened.

"Once word spreads, they’ll move against us. They’ll target our equipment suppliers, our potion distribution network, and our dungeon-material contracts."

He shook his head.

"With our current situation, we won’t be able to resist them for long."

Several executives looked increasingly troubled.

The problem was obvious.

Without powerful professionals to protect it, even a wealthy organization could become vulnerable overnight. Competitors could pressure its partners, undermine its contracts, and force it to surrender valuable assets.

The consortium’s commercial network had taken years to build.

Without the founders’ influence, it could begin to unravel in a matter of weeks.

A middle-aged woman in a black business suit spoke calmly.

"Then we need to find someone who can protect us."

Every eye turned toward her.

She was Director Victoria Shaw, the consortium’s chief financial officer and one of its most influential executives.

Victoria tapped her fingers lightly against the tabletop.

"We should be willing to sacrifice part of our interests in exchange for protection."

She continued in a measured tone.

"We can transfer a portion of our shares, surrender certain distribution channels, or offer profit-sharing agreements to a stronger commercial organization or an established faction."

Her eyes swept across the room.

"If we can secure a powerful ally, we may be able to stabilize the situation before our competitors have the chance to tear us apart."

The proposal immediately drew support.

"I think that’s reasonable."

"Now isn’t the time to obsess over short-term profits."

"Exactly. If we preserve the consortium, there will still be opportunities to recover our losses later."

Several executives nodded.

They were frightened, but they weren’t foolish enough to believe the consortium could continue operating as though nothing had happened.

However, one of the shareholders frowned.

"There’s a problem with that proposal."

Victoria looked toward him.

"What problem?"

"The legal heir to the Beaumont Trading Consortium is Nathaniel Beaumont."

The conference room quieted.

The shareholder continued.

"According to the inheritance documents signed by the founders, Nathaniel inherits the controlling majority of the consortium’s shares if both chairmen become unable to manage the business."

He paused.

"Any major transfer of ownership or corporate interests would require his approval."

Silence settled over the room.

Nathaniel Beaumont.

Until recently, most of these executives had regarded him as a student with little knowledge of commercial affairs.

He was the founders’ son, certainly, but that didn’t mean he understood the complicated machinery of a major trading organization.

Yet he was now the person who legally held the authority they needed.

Department Head Colin Whitmore’s eyes flickered.

"Let’s be realistic."

He leaned back in his chair.

"Nathaniel is young. He’s barely eighteen, and he has no experience running an organization of this scale."

His voice grew firmer.

"What does he know about managing equipment contracts, maintaining potion supply chains, or negotiating with powerful commercial rivals?"

He spread his hands.

"Handing him control of the consortium during a crisis would be irresponsible."

Another executive immediately supported him.

"That’s right. We need experienced decision-makers, not a student making impulsive choices."

He looked toward Victoria.

"If Nathaniel agrees with our proposal, then everything will be much easier."

He paused.

"But if he refuses..."

The man’s expression hardened.

"We can’t simply sit back and watch the consortium collapse because its heir doesn’t understand the consequences of his decisions."

Another executive lowered his voice.

"Are you suggesting that we sideline him?"

The question hung in the air.

Several people exchanged glances.

No one openly answered at first, but the expressions around the table began to change.

Sidelining the legal heir would be difficult, but not necessarily impossible.

Nathaniel was young.

He had no management experience.

And the executives sitting around this table controlled the departments that kept the consortium running.

If they acted together, they could potentially restrict his access to information, limit his influence over daily operations, and turn him into a chairman in name only.

The thought was dangerous.

But for some people, it was also tempting.

At the far end of the conference table, a middle-aged man who had remained silent throughout the discussion finally spoke.

"Before we decide anything, perhaps we should consider one other matter."

The room gradually quieted.

The man folded his hands on the table.

"I’ve heard that Nathaniel awakened an unusual class recently."

He glanced around the room.

"And there’s also a report claiming that, immediately after his awakening, he killed a Level 100 professional."

The conference room fell silent.

For the first time that evening, the discussion was no longer solely about shares, contracts, and corporate authority.

It was about Nathaniel Beaumont himself.

And whether the executives had made a serious mistake by assuming that the young heir would be easy to control.