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Chapter 395c
🕑 Added 2025-09-28 22:18:38 +0000 UTCChapter 395c
2-in-1-chapter
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This led to a split in Shining’s leadership.
One faction argued that now was the perfect time to launch a coordinated attack on Aurora alongside the insurgents, using a pincer movement to drive Aurora PMC out of Bolivia altogether.
But others disagreed. To them, Aurora’s assault on the insurgents looked effortless—like Patton cutting through Axis lines without even slowing down.
To side with the insurgents now would be no different than joining the Wehrmacht in 1945.
Besides, the Shining Group had already entered into what could loosely be called a “cooperative understanding” with Aurora. From Gustavo—who remained in the capital—they had continuously received what could only be described as goodwill gestures from Aurora PMC.
Because of that, many within the leadership were unwilling to pick a fight with a private military company that not only had powerful assets on the ground but also commanded an elite internal security force.
With the factional dispute resolved and the matter of which side to align with seemingly settled, a new problem emerged.
A nation cannot go even a single day without leadership. The head of the Shining Group had been killed by unknown assailants—no one knew who had sent them. The second-in-command had been captured, ostensibly by the insurgents, though in reality he was in the custody of Aurora PMC.
So who would become the new leader? That was now the central issue.
No one wanted to spend their entire life as someone else’s subordinate—especially not when they believed they had the ability to rise to the top themselves.
As a philosopher once said: “No soul born into this world, beneath sky and sun, was made to live forever under the will of another.”
The senior leaders of the Shining Group may not have been familiar with that particular saying and philosopher, but their sentiments aligned with it perfectly.
And so, rather than focusing on external threats or identifying the real culprits behind the assassination, their primary concern became the vacancy left by the former boss—and who among them should rise to fill it.
With the first-ranking figure dead, and the second-in-command being held by Aurora PMC—though others mistakenly believed he had been captured by the insurgents—the remaining senior members were evenly matched in both seniority and influence.
Even their personalities and temperaments were strikingly similar.
Then again, it made sense. If any of them had been mild-mannered or soft-spoken gentlemen, they wouldn’t have lasted long enough to rise through the brutal internal politics of the Shining Group.
Naturally, it came as no surprise that the situation devolved into an internal power struggle over who would inherit the position at the top.
At the beginning, things remained civil.
Initially, they all sat down and tried to discuss the matter calmly.
But given how little ground there was between them, the conversation quickly turned direct—and then turned serious.
Once the conversation turned serious, no one felt drowsy anymore.
Each senior member made no attempt to hide their ambition for the position of leader, patting their chests and promising that if they were put in charge, they would do this or that, each one more grandiose than the last.
But none of it had any real effect.
This was the Shining Group, not the United States. It wasn’t like American senators making empty promises just to win votes from a poorly informed electorate, only to turn around and break every word once elected.
And the ones listening to those promises weren’t naive civilians with no grasp of geography or basic math—they were fellow executives, just as eager to seize the position of boss themselves.
Without ambition, none of them would have climbed this high in the first place.
None of them were skilled at public speaking, and the war of words didn’t last long before everyone realized the truth: no one in that room would support anyone other than themselves.
Once that became painfully clear, the next phase began—settling things with force.
Each executive returned to their own territory and began assembling their forces, preparing to eliminate the competition.
The logic was simple.
If none of the other executives supported them, then all they had to do was eliminate the others—once the dust settled, the title of boss would be theirs by default.
Of course, not every executive was a brute.
Some still saw the bigger picture.
But it didn’t matter.
In an environment like that, your choices were extremely limited.
You could try to leave.
Or you could let yourself be swept forward by the times and the people around you.
So even though a few of the more clear-headed executives recognized that an internal war would do nothing but harm the Shining Group, it was useless.
Their voices carried no weight. No one would listen.
Worse, their hesitation was mistaken for a delaying tactic.
Under that pressure, the rational ones gathered their most loyal people and voluntarily gave up their turf.
They had already made more than enough money—enough to live out their days in Europe as wealthy retirees, detached from the chaos, living out their lives in villas, throwing private parties, never worrying about anything again.
But not all of them were willing to walk away from Bolivia.
Some understood what was coming, yet still clung to power, unwilling to become nothing more than rich men without influence.
They stayed behind.
Though they didn’t initiate attacks against other executives, they remained on their own turf.
Their wealth was stained. They had chosen this bloody path, and there was no walking away from it so easily.
A week later, as tensions fully erupted, the most hot-headed among them were the first to begin open warfare.
Since they all knew one another and understood each other’s operations, they deliberately targeted weak points.
Coca plantations were torched. Warehouses full of product were looted clean. The roads ran red with blood and corpses were strewn across the countryside.
Two of the weaker executives were wiped out entirely, leaving only three with enough strength to continue fighting.
But even the strongest among them didn’t come out unscathed.
They lost men, equipment, and assets—whole plantations and warehouses were gone.
Worse still, their hired mercenaries—almost as if in coordination—collectively demanded higher pay and better treatment, or they would walk.
Of course, they weren’t actually coordinating. It was simply human nature.
War was brutal. People died.
This wasn’t some shooter game where you respawn after seeing a quote on screen. These mercs had families. Even the single ones had parents, siblings. Many had wives and children to support.
In the past, it was easy. You could coast through shifts and still collect a paycheck.
However, the executives of the Shining Group had now gone mad. They treated each other like mortal enemies, refusing to rest until the other was dead.
The intensity of the fighting was clear.
This wasn’t the Bolivian government forces versus rebels, playing at war. The men fighting for the Shining Group were real ex-military, veterans who’d seen actual combat.
The enemy was professional—and so were they.
When both sides knew what they were doing, the result was carnage.
Now, although the two weakest executives had been eliminated, even the remaining had suffered losses.
And their mercenaries, though armed and trained, weren’t stupid.
They knew full well there were more brutal battles ahead. More blood. More death.
So of course they demanded better pay.
And there was little choice but to give it.
Once the issue of the mercenaries strike was resolved, the three remaining powerhouses acted as if they’d come to a silent agreement.
They no longer fought one another.
