Chapter 145 - HA 145

Chapter 785 - Let's have a talk 

Astron's gaze settled on Seraphina, his sharp purple eyes unwavering and unreadable. The corridor was silent, save for the faint hum of distant voices and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Seraphina stood a few steps away, her silver hair cascading down her back like liquid moonlight, her expression a mix of amusement and intrigue.

"We need to talk," she said, her voice calm yet laced with an undercurrent of authority.

Astron didn't respond immediately. His eyes briefly scanned her face, noting the faint, confident smirk playing on her lips. Then, in a tone as neutral as the cold stone walls around them, he asked, "Why?"

The single word hung in the air between them, simple yet laden with meaning.

Seraphina's smile deepened slightly. She tilted her head, studying him as if he were a puzzle she couldn't quite piece together.

It was the same response he had given her the last time they spoke. Back then, she had approached him with a proposition—one that most people would have jumped at for the sheer opportunity to be in her favor. But his reaction had been the same: indifferent, detached.

'Why?'

Normally, people clamored for her attention. They would spend days, sometimes weeks, arranging meetings with her. Gifts, letters, subtle favors—such was the norm for someone of her standing. She was Seraphina Frostborne, heir to one of the strongest magic families, the Frostborne lineage, known for its dominion over ice and precision in spellcraft. Her rank in the academy was high, her reputation impeccable.

But this guy…

Astron Natusalune wasn't like anyone else.

No reverence, no flattery. Just that single, disarming question, as if her lineage and rank were mere trivialities.

"You have a way of making things far less complicated than they should be," she finally said, stepping closer, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. "But since you insist…"

Her silver eyes locked onto his, unblinking. "Because you intrigue me, Astron."

He raised an eyebrow, his expression still unreadable. "Is that all?"

Seraphina let out a light chuckle, the sound low and deliberate. "Shouldn't that be enough?"

"No." His answer was curt, blunt.

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Seraphina didn't seem fazed. In fact, his rejection only seemed to amuse her further.

'He's impossible,' she thought, though the realization didn't annoy her—it intrigued her more.

"Then how about this," she said, folding her arms. "I know you're not ordinary. And I'm not just talking about your rank or your… tendencies to attract trouble."

Astron's gaze didn't waver, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—a shadow of calculation, perhaps.

"You hide things, Astron. Big things. And you're better at it than most." Her tone softened, though her words carried weight. "But even the best can't hide everything forever."

"Is that supposed to scare me?" he asked, his voice as even as ever.

"No," she replied smoothly, her smirk returning. "It's supposed to interest you. We might not see eye to eye, but we can help each other."

"I don't need help."

"Oh, I think you do," she countered, leaning in just slightly. "You've got enemies watching you, Astron. And friends like Irina can only protect you for so long."

"Are you that different? If friends like Irina can only protect me for this long, how can you, someone with a similar rank, make it longer?"

Seraphina's smirk widened, her silver eyes glinting with amusement. She tilted her head slightly, her long hair cascading like a curtain of frost. "That's for you to find out after hearing me, isn't it?" Her voice carried a teasing edge, as if she were enjoying a game only she understood.

Astron's expression didn't waver. "What if I don't want to waste my time like this?" he asked, his tone calm but pointed.

"Waste time?" Seraphina placed a hand on her chest, feigning offense. "Now, that's rather hurtful. You do realize there are people who would kill you if they heard you say that about me."

"People who'd try to kill me for something so trivial wouldn't have the ability to do so," Astron replied flatly, his sharp purple eyes meeting hers without hesitation.

For a moment, Seraphina blinked, then let out a soft laugh, her amusement genuine this time. "Heh… You're bold, I'll give you that." She leaned in slightly, her presence sharp yet strangely magnetic. "But boldness doesn't change facts, does it?"

Her smirk returned as she continued, "Last time, I revealed my ability to see through strength, didn't I? Threatened to expose what you're hiding to the academy…" She let the words linger, watching his reaction closely. "And yet, here you are. You've come to terms with it, haven't you?"

Astron remained silent, but his gaze sharpened. It wasn't anger or frustration—it was something far more unnerving. His purple eyes seemed to pierce through her, studying her like a predator gauging its prey. The flicker of amusement in Seraphina's expression faltered ever so slightly under his unyielding scrutiny.

'Heh… interesting,' she thought, quickly regaining her composure. This wasn't the reaction of someone cornered. If anything, he seemed to be weighing her, testing her resolve.

"Well," she said, straightening up and brushing a strand of silver hair behind her ear, "it's not like you have a choice. Unless, of course, you want certain things to be known." Her smirk was sharp now, her words a deliberate provocation.

Astron's eyes remained locked on hers, unblinking. For a moment, the corridor was silent except for the faint hum of distant chatter. Then, he exhaled slowly, his gaze softening, though only slightly.

"Fine," he said at last, his tone even, as if he had merely conceded a trivial point in an argument. "I'll hear you out."

The satisfaction in Seraphina's smirk deepened. She took a step closer, her presence confident yet controlled. "Good," she said simply. "You won't regret it."

As she turned on her heel, her silver hair swaying with each step, Astron's gaze lingered on her retreating form. His expression remained calm, but his mind was already at work. He had accepted her offer—but not for the reasons she likely thought.

'Let's see what you're really after, Seraphina Frostborne. Though I have some ideas.'

Behind her confident exterior, he had glimpsed something else—a flicker of uncertainty, desperation buried beneath layers of arrogance and poise.

It was interesting to see.

*******

The terrace café was quiet, the soft murmur of distant conversations blending with the gentle clink of porcelain cups. The view below stretched wide, a panorama of the academy grounds bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Seraphina led the way, her confident stride unbroken as she chose a table near the edge, the perfect vantage point. Astron followed silently, his footsteps steady, his gaze flickering briefly over the familiar surroundings.

It was the same place they had met last time, where Seraphina had nearly succeeded in driving a wedge between him and Irina. Nearly. Instead, the confrontation had done the opposite, strengthening his bond with Irina—a twist of irony that Seraphina, of course, remained oblivious to.

As they sat down, Seraphina rested her elbow on the table, her chin propped lightly on her hand. Her silver hair caught the sunlight, shimmering like frost under a rising dawn.

"The view is really nice, don't you think?" she said, her tone conversational yet laced with subtle undertones, always testing the waters.

Astron's gaze swept over the landscape, taking in the warm hues and the distant movement of students below. "Indeed, it is nice," he replied evenly, his voice calm, measured. "Though sad that most of the students wouldn't get to see it."

Seraphina chuckled softly. "If you come to my side, you can enjoy it every day, you know."

His response was immediate, his tone neither dismissive nor interested, but resolute. "If I enjoyed things like these, I would have entertained many other such opportunities."

Seraphina leaned back slightly, studying him. The way he said it—firm, unbothered, and accompanied by that sharp, now surprisingly handsome face—was enough to make her pause for a moment.

'With this face now, I could just seduce someone like you.'

But she merely smiled at the thought, her silver eyes glinting with amusement. "Seduction doesn't just end with the face," she remarked lightly. "You need to work on your expressions."

Astron shifted his gaze to her, his purple eyes calm but sharp, like a blade concealed beneath still waters. His response was as steady as ever, his words deliberate. "Expressions are just a result of impulsive control of muscles. As long as one has control, they are easy to adjust."

"Really?" Seraphina's smirk widened, her interest piqued.

"Yes."

The confidence in his tone was unshakable, and Seraphina found herself genuinely intrigued. She tilted her head slightly, her silver hair catching the light again as if to test him further. "Then show me," she said, her voice light but challenging.

Astron raised an eyebrow, his calm purple eyes meeting Seraphina's silver ones. "Why should I?" he asked, his tone completely unbothered.

Seraphina chuckled lightly, leaning back in her chair. "If you can't, then why bother talking? Everyone can talk, after all," she said, her voice carrying a hint of derision.

Astron didn't flinch. His expression remained steady as he responded, "I don't have anything to prove to you, hence no action."

Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second, replaced by a flicker of irritation. "...You really are pushing your limits, Mister Natusalune," she said, her voice cooling ever so slightly.

"And what happens when I do that?" he asked his tone as even as ever, his sharp gaze steady on hers.

Seraphina leaned forward slightly, her smile returning but tinged with an edge of menace. "I may lose my control," she said softly, the warning in her voice unmistakable.

As the words left her lips, the temperature around them began to drop. A frosty aura radiated from Seraphina, her mana seeping into the air like a creeping chill.

The table between them glazed over with a thin layer of frost, and the faint crystalline shimmer of her magic surrounded Astron.

But Astron didn't so much as blink.

"You mages surely love exerting your aura on others….."

Chapter 786 - Let's have a talk (2)

"You mages surely love exerting your aura on others….."

His gaze remained locked on her, his expression calm and unaffected. "With how things are in the academy," he said, his voice cutting through the cold like a blade, "are you confident that you will not face any repercussions if you do such a thing?"

Seraphina's eyes narrowed, her frosty aura intensifying for a moment. She leaned closer, her silver eyes gleaming like ice under the sun. "Repercussions?" she repeated, her tone mocking. "You underestimate what I can get away with, Astron."

"Perhaps," he replied, unfazed. "But even those with power know that the wrong move can cost them everything. Unless you're confident enough to bear that cost?"

The words hung in the chilled air between them, and for a moment, the frost around Astron lingered, unmoving. Then, slowly, it began to recede. Seraphina sat back in her chair, her smirk returning but her eyes sharp with calculation.

"Confident as ever, aren't you?" she said, her tone lighter now, though there was a dangerous edge beneath it. "I have to admit, you're not as dull as most."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Astron replied, his voice steady.

Seraphina leaned back slightly in her chair, her silver eyes narrowing as she observed Astron. A thought, sharp and undeniable, crept into her mind:

'He has changed.'

This wasn't the same Astron she had encountered during the first semester. While his calm demeanor and calculated words were familiar, the way he carried himself now was different—more assured, more unyielding. Back then, his strength had been significantly lower, and though he had tried to hide it behind a facade of confidence, she could see the cracks.

When she had threatened him before, she remembered the flicker of resistance in his eyes, the way he seemed to consider standing against her. But ultimately, he had forcefully given up on the idea, bowing to the reality of the situation.

'That was the logical thing to do,' she mused. 'If I were in his position, I would have done the same.'

After all, clashing with her back then would have been nothing short of suicide. Everyone knew her lineage. She was a child of an archmage, one of the Frostborne, a family whose name carried weight not just in the academy but across the entire magical community. And she wasn't just coasting on her family's reputation—she was the former rank-one student, equal to Victor Langley in prowess.

But now…

'Now, he stands here as if he's seen mages like me before. As if he's dealt with them—and worse.'

Her sharp mind turned over the details. The way he had stood motionless as her frosty aura encased him. The way his purple eyes hadn't wavered, even as the subtle intent behind her aura sought to inflict pain.

It wasn't just defiance; it was experience.

Accommodating a mage's aura wasn't something a normal hunter could do so easily. A mage's aura wasn't like the pressure of a brute hunter's raw strength. It was layered, complex, and suffused with intricate mana flows. When a mage released their aura, the effects weren't just overwhelming—they were designed to disorient, to penetrate, to hurt.

And she had intended it.

The subtle pain woven into her frosty aura wasn't accidental. It was a test—a small, deliberate sting meant to make him flinch, to remind him of the gulf between them.

But Astron had stood there, unaffected.

'He didn't just endure it. He took it as if it was nothing.'

Her mind raced, analyzing the implications. A hunter accustomed to facing mages, one who could withstand their mana-infused presence, was rare. Hunters weren't trained to deal with the intricacies of mana manipulation. That kind of experience came from exposure—repeated encounters with mages of her caliber or higher.

'This is no coincidence,' she thought. 'What has he been doing? Where has he been that he's changed this much?'

In the span of a single semester break, Astron had transformed from a slightly above-average academy cadet to someone whose strength was now obscured—entirely beyond her sight.

Seraphina's fingers lightly tapped the edge of the frosted table, her silver eyes narrowing in thought.

'Not being able to see through his strength doesn't necessarily mean he's become overwhelmingly powerful,' she reasoned. 'It could mean something else entirely.'

As a mage, she understood the intricacies of mana far better than most. While overwhelming strength could obscure someone's parameters, so too could specific abilities or artifacts designed to block perceptions like hers.

'It's rare,' she thought, recalling the few instances she'd encountered. 'But it's not impossible.'

Her mind drifted back to her initial encounter with him, before the semester break. Back then, her trait had worked perfectly. His strength was measurable, his potential visible, and his flaws laid bare for her to exploit. She could see the resistance in his eyes when she'd cornered him, the way his logical mind had forced him to submit despite his instincts.

'He was just another cadet. Ambitious, perhaps, but ultimately predictable.'

But now…

Now, he was an enigma. An unknown.

And Seraphina Frostborne despised unknowns.

'It's like Schrodinger's Box,' she mused, recalling the theories of a revolutionary mage who had once shaken the foundations of magical society with his work on mana psions. Schrodinger had proposed that the strength of a psion, much like mana itself, existed in a dual state within a concealed entity until observed. The act of observing defined its state—until then, it was a mystery.

'Without looking inside the box, I can't understand his strength. And I hate not understanding.'

She leaned back in her chair, her silver hair spilling over her shoulders like a cascade of frost. The faint chill she'd exuded earlier had completely dissipated, replaced by the quiet intensity of her focus.

Astron wasn't just hiding something—he was something.

Whether it was newfound power, a rare artifact, or an ability specifically designed to counter her trait, she didn't know. But she intended to find out.

Her gaze flicked back to him. He sat there, calm and composed, his sharp purple eyes betraying nothing. It was as if he had mastered the art of masking not just his strength but his very presence.

'Where have you been, Astron Natusalune?'

The thought gnawed at her. Whatever had happened during the semester break, it wasn't ordinary. A leap like this wasn't natural, not without external factors—training, encounters, or perhaps even a benefactor.

She smirked to herself, her curiosity burning brighter.

"You're an interesting one," she said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Astron raised an eyebrow, his expression calm but questioning. "I'll take that as a compliment," he replied evenly.

"It is," she said, her voice light but laced with intent. "But it's also a challenge. I dislike mysteries, Astron. And right now, you're the biggest one I've encountered in a while."

"Is that why we're here?" he asked, his tone carrying a faint trace of amusement.

Her smirk deepened. "Partly. Though I don't think you'll mind. After all, you're hiding something, aren't you?"

He didn't flinch, didn't falter. His gaze remained steady on hers, and for a moment, she thought she saw the faintest trace of a smile tug at the corner of his lips.

"I suppose that depends on what you think I'm hiding," he said.

His words were careful, deliberate, and they only intrigued her more.

'You're good,' she thought, her silver eyes gleaming. 'But everyone has a limit. Even you.'

Seraphina leaned forward slightly, her presence sharp and commanding once again. "Well, Astron," she said, her tone casual but laced with challenge. "Let's see how long you can keep me out of your box."

The game had officially begun. And Seraphina intended to win.

Astron leaned back in his chair, a faint glimmer of amusement flickering in his otherwise calm expression. "It's true," he began, his tone steady, unhurried. "One cannot know what's inside the box without looking. Schrodinger's thought experiment makes that point quite clear."

Seraphina raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his sudden willingness to engage.

"But then," Astron continued, his gaze steady on hers, "there's something often overlooked in the analogy. Schrodinger knew beforehand that there was a cat and poison inside the box. That was the premise."

Seraphina's smirk faltered slightly, her eyes narrowing as she listened.

"Now consider this: what about those who've never seen inside the box? Those who have no evidence of its contents beforehand? How can they affirm the possible conclusions with certainty? Without prior knowledge, wouldn't the same idea of the unknown also apply to their assumptions?"

His voice remained calm, his words deliberate, as he continued, "Would you be able to confirm that your assumptions—your 'premise'—aren't things you've made up on your own?"

The question lingered in the air, sharp and challenging.

Seraphina's eyes flickered, her mind turning over his words like a puzzle. He wasn't just playing defense; he was countering her challenge with one of his own.

'He's clever,' she thought, a mix of admiration and annoyance flickering through her. It wasn't often someone dared to turn her logic back on her, much less with such precision.

Her smirk returned, though this time it was sharper, tinged with a hint of frustration. "Touché, Astron," she said smoothly, leaning back in her chair. "You make a fair point. But that doesn't change the fact that you are hiding something."

"Am I really?"

Seraphina tilted her head, her silver eyes gleaming. "Oh, you are. Whether it's strength, knowledge, or something else entirely… you can't convince me there's nothing inside your box. And eventually, I will find out what it is."

"What makes you this sure?"

"Heh….." Hearing Astron's calm question, Seraphina's smirk widened into a grin, her silver eyes gleaming with satisfaction. She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the table, her fingers interlaced as if she had been waiting for this exact moment.

"Because of this," she said smoothly, her voice dripping with triumph.

From a small folder she had kept at her side, she pulled out a few glossy photographs and laid them on the frosted table between them.

In those pictures, one could see.

One young man and one young woman.

And rather intimate.

Chapter 787 - Let's have a talk (3)

I leaned forward slightly, my eyes drifting to the glossy photographs Seraphina had laid on the frosted table between us. The sheen of the prints reflected the dim light, but the images were clear enough. Irina and me, standing close in the Stellamare Museum, no disguises in place. Another showed her hugging me openly at the Etheria Haven spatial gate station.

My gaze lingered on the photographs for a moment, my expression calm, as though I were admiring art rather than analyzing evidence meant to unsettle me.

'Interesting,' I thought, noting the fine detail in the images. 'These weren't taken by a mana-infused artifact.'

If they had been, I would've sensed the mana signature or residual traces. My senses were attuned enough to pick up even the faintest flickers, especially in a controlled environment like the museum. But these? They carried no mana interference, no hint of artifact involvement.

'An analog device,' I deduced, my eyes narrowing slightly as I examined the photos further. While most people relied on mana-powered tools for such things, there were still those who preferred older, less detectable methods. It wasn't common, but it wasn't impossible either.

I glanced at the picture from the museum, where Irina and I stood side by side, our expressions relaxed but alert. At the time, I'd noticed faint gazes—subtle, quiet observations. But they hadn't felt intrusive, nor had they given away their presence as anything more than curious onlookers. I'd assumed it was nothing.

I was wrong.

'The Matriarch must have noticed this too,' I thought. 'I believed she would block the media from publishing anything, but it seems she decided otherwise. I suppose that makes sense.'

After all, Irina hadn't exactly been discreet when she'd openly embraced me at the Etheria Haven spatial gate station. That image was now here on the table as well, a bold display of familiarity between us. The fact that the photos were being used now suggested Seraphina had been waiting, biding her time until she had enough to use as leverage—or to make her move.

'She was accumulating evidence,' I mused, keeping my expression neutral as I straightened slightly in my chair.

"You seem remarkably calm for someone whose private moments are now on display," Seraphina remarked, her silver eyes gleaming with amusement as she studied my reaction—or lack thereof.

I met her gaze, my voice steady. "If you've gone through the trouble of collecting these, then it's obvious you already have a purpose in mind for them. My reaction now is irrelevant."

Her smirk deepened, her fingers tapping lightly on the edge of the table. "You're sharp, Astron. But even you must realize the implications. A close connection with Irina Emberheart? That's not something people will ignore."

I glanced at the photographs again, then back at her. "And yet, you're the one showing me these. Not the media, not the academy council. Just you. That tells me you haven't made your move yet."

Her smirk faltered for the briefest moment before she leaned back, her gaze sharpening. "Perhaps I'm giving you a chance to explain. Or perhaps I'm waiting to see how valuable your reaction is."

"Or," I countered, my voice even, "you're gauging how much I know about your real intentions. After all, gathering evidence isn't your endgame. It's leverage. But leverage is useless if the other party doesn't care."

Her eyes flickered, the gleam in them momentarily dimming as my words landed. But her smirk quickly returned, more dangerous this time.

"Maybe," she said lightly, her tone casual but laced with intent. "But even you have limits, Astron. And everyone cares about something."

I leaned back, letting her words hang in the air for a moment.

She wasn't wrong. But she wasn't entirely right either. While the photographs were a complication, they weren't an end—they were a means.

Seraphina leaned forward slightly, her silver eyes gleaming with calculated intent. Her smirk widened, her voice laced with mock concern. "I wonder… what would happen if these were known? Especially by Matriarch Emberheart."

Her words hung in the air, heavy with implication. The way she spoke, the deliberate pacing of her sentence, made it clear she believed she'd struck a nerve. She thought she understood the situation—that Irina's actions were secret, hidden even from her own family, and that exposing them would create chaos.

I studied her carefully, my expression calm. It was fascinating, watching her build her strategy, weaving threads of her perceived advantage. But as intricate as her web might have seemed to her, it was riddled with flaws.

'From the way she acts, it's clear she's reached a conclusion: Irina and I are keeping this from the Matriarch,' I thought, letting my gaze drift back to the photographs. 'And in her mind, the Matriarch wouldn't approve of such a relationship. That's the common perception of Matriarch Emberheart from the outside—a strict, controlling figure who would never allow Irina to engage in something so… unconventional.'

It made sense, of course, from Seraphina's standpoint. But the cracks in her reasoning were glaring.

'First, she doesn't understand how real-world information works,' I mused. 'An informant doesn't serve just one master. They weave webs across multiple factions, feeding information selectively to maintain their relevance and value. The Matriarch's network would have already accounted for anything truly critical.'

My gaze shifted back to Seraphina, who sat there, confident and composed, as if she held the entire situation in her hands. 'Secondly, she overestimates her own web of information. She might be a Frostborne heir, but she's still just an heir. Her reach is far from absolute.'

I leaned back slightly, my expression unchanging, my tone measured. "That's an interesting assumption, Seraphina. But assumptions can be dangerous."

Her smirk deepened, her fingers tapping lightly against the frosted table. "Is it an assumption?" she asked, her tone casual but pointed. "The Matriarch has a reputation, after all. Strict, calculating, a woman who values control above all else. Do you think she'd approve of her heir parading around with someone like you?"

The condescension in her voice was deliberate, a sharp edge meant to provoke. But I didn't flinch.

I allowed a faint pause, letting her words hang in the air as if they carried a weight I hadn't anticipated. My expression remained calm, but I tilted my head slightly, as though considering her point.

"The Matriarch…" I began, my voice measured, "is indeed someone like that."

I let the words slip out slowly, carefully, and then, intentionally, I added a faint crack to my voice, just enough to suggest hesitation. The kind of hesitation that might betray someone grappling with an inconvenient truth.

"If she were to find out…" I trailed off, lowering my gaze slightly, as though weighed down by the implications. "The fate awaiting me… would undoubtedly be harsh."

The moment the words left my mouth, Seraphina's silver eyes flickered, her sharp gaze locking onto me with renewed intensity. Her smirk widened slightly, satisfaction creeping into her expression. She leaned forward ever so slightly, sensing what she believed was a crack in my facade.

'Indeed,' I mused inwardly, keeping my expression neutral, 'you are definitely better than Irina when it comes to observing people.'

But observation alone wasn't enough. Seraphina might have sharp eyes, but she didn't know what to do with a misleading clue. And that would be her undoing.

Her voice softened, almost conspiratorial, as she pressed further. "That's why," she began, her tone carrying a mix of triumph and feigned sympathy, "it's better to deal with these things quietly. After all, the Matriarch is not someone to cross lightly."

She leaned back slightly, her fingers still tapping on the frosted table. "But I'm not unreasonable, Astron. I could help you… navigate this delicate situation. All it would take is a little cooperation."

'Ah, there it is,' I thought, watching her carefully. She thought she had me. The momentary crack in my voice, the hesitance in my response—it had all been enough to embolden her, to convince her that I was vulnerable. That I would capitulate if she pushed just a little harder.

"Cooperation," I echoed, my voice steady once more, as though I were turning the word over in my mind. I met her gaze, my purple eyes calm and contemplative. "And what exactly would that entail, Seraphina?"

Her smirk deepened, and she leaned forward again, her silver hair catching the light like a cascade of frost. "It's simple," she said smoothly.

Seraphina leaned closer, her silver eyes gleaming like polished ice as she locked her gaze with mine. Her smirk deepened, a faint glint of triumph flickering across her face as she spoke with deliberate precision. "It means exactly what it says," she began, her tone smooth, almost soothing, but laced with authority. "From now on, you'll be one of my people. Stay under my protection, and I'll ensure these photos never see the light of day."

Her expression sharpened slightly, her smirk twisting into something closer to a grin. She truly believed she'd already won, that this was a matter of formality now—a sealing of the deal she assumed I had no choice but to accept.

I met her gaze evenly. Inwardly, though, a quiet thought unfolded.

'This is exactly why people like you fail, Seraphina. Those who think arrogantly, who assume they are untouchable, inevitably overreach. You might be clever, but your hubris blinds you. And in that, Irina has already surpassed you far more than you realize.'

Her calculated confidence was almost impressive, but it was also her greatest weakness. She saw leverage as absolute, forgetting that power often shifted in the subtleties she ignored.

I leaned back slightly, letting her words hang in the air as if giving them weight. My silence seemed to embolden her further—her smirk grew sharper, her fingers resuming their tapping against the table in a faint rhythm of victory.

'That is why, in order to grow, you must understand. A leverage from your perspective might not be one from others.

Then, I spoke, my voice calm, measured, and deliberate.

"What if I refuse?"

Chapter 788 - Let's have a talk (4)

Seraphina's smirk widened the moment Astron fell silent, the faint rhythm of her fingers tapping against the frosted table resuming with a steady beat of satisfaction. In her mind, the game was already over.

'He knows he's cornered,' she thought, her silver eyes gleaming as she watched him. 'Smart as he is, even he must understand that there's no path forward for him without my help.'

She studied him carefully, taking in his calm demeanor and the faint contemplative expression on his face. To anyone else, it might have seemed like he was weighing his options, calculating his next move. But Seraphina was certain that no amount of calculation would change the outcome.

After all, no matter how strong Astron had become, no matter what mysterious abilities he had developed, he was still bound by the reality of their world. And in that reality, the Matriarch Emberheart's words were law.

'He's smart enough to know this much,' Seraphina mused, her confidence unwavering. 'Defiance isn't an option. Not against the Matriarch. And if he's smart, which I know he is, he'll understand that aligning with me is his best chance.'

The silence stretched between them, and Seraphina allowed it to linger, savoring the moment. Her silver eyes glinted with quiet triumph as she leaned back in her chair, exuding the poise and control of someone who believed they held all the cards.

But then, Astron spoke.

"What if I refuse?"

For a moment, the tapping of her fingers stopped. Her smirk remained, but the faint flicker of surprise in her silver eyes betrayed her momentary disbelief.

'Refuse?' The thought repeated in her mind, sharp and incredulous.

Seraphina tilted her head slightly, her silver hair cascading like frost over her shoulder as she regarded him with a curious, almost condescending gaze. "Refuse?" she echoed, her tone soft but laced with danger.

She leaned forward, the air around her growing colder, a faint shimmer of frost dancing along the edge of the table. Her silver eyes locked onto his, gleaming with the promise of retribution.

"Let me make one thing clear, Astron," she began, her voice low, commanding, and tinged with frost. "This isn't a matter of preference. It's reality."

Her smirk returned, sharper now, her confidence unshaken. "I'm offering you a way out. A way to protect yourself and whatever it is you're hiding. Refusal? That's not a smart move, is it?"

Astron's calm, unyielding gaze didn't falter, and for the first time, Seraphina felt a faint twinge of unease. He wasn't reacting as she expected—no hesitation, no fear, no signs of the vulnerability she thought she'd exposed.

Seraphina's smirk twitched, her silver eyes narrowing as she studied Astron's unflinching expression. For a fleeting moment, a thought crossed her mind, sharp and unsettling.

'He doesn't care about himself.'

It was a possibility she had encountered before—stories of men who held no regard for their own well-being but would move mountains for those they cared about. She had always found such people fascinating, their unwavering resolve both inspiring and dangerous. Dangerous because their strength wasn't rooted in their own survival but in the protection of others.

'And that,' she mused, her smirk returning with a sharper edge, 'is the biggest weakness of all.'

She leaned forward, her presence commanding as her silver hair shimmered faintly in the frost-laden air. Her voice softened, taking on a tone that was almost conspiratorial, as if she were sharing a well-guarded secret.

"Ah, I see now," she murmured, her eyes gleaming with calculated intent. "You're not afraid because you don't care what happens to you, do you?"

Astron's calm gaze didn't waver, but Seraphina caught the faintest flicker of something in his eyes. It wasn't fear or hesitation—it was an acknowledgment. He wasn't denying her observation, and that only emboldened her further.

Her fingers resumed their rhythmic tapping on the frosted table as her smirk deepened. "But you see, Astron," she continued, her voice smooth, deliberate, "that's precisely why you're at a disadvantage here."

She tilted her head slightly, her silver eyes locking onto his. "Because while you might not care what happens to you, I'm willing to bet that Irina does. And more importantly…"

Seraphina paused, letting her words hang in the air like the weight of an unsheathed blade.

"…you care what happens to her."

The room seemed to grow colder as her words settled, the frost around them intensifying. She leaned back slightly, her smirk widening as she watched him. "You can withstand the consequences of defiance, can't you? But Irina? I wonder how much she'll be able to endure."

Astron's expression remained calm, but Seraphina didn't miss the faint tightening of his jaw, the subtle shift in his posture. It was slight—barely perceptible—but it was enough to confirm her suspicions.

'Got you,' she thought, the thrill of control surging through her.

"Think about it," she said, her tone almost casual. "The Matriarch Emberheart is not someone to trifle with. If she finds out about these… moments between you and Irina, do you think she'll only punish you?"

Her silver eyes gleamed, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "No, Astron. Irina will bear the brunt of it. Her reputation, her standing, her future—all of it will come crashing down. And it will be because of you."

Seraphina leaned back in her chair, exuding the confidence of someone who believed she had sealed the deal. Her frost aura receded slightly, the chill in the air softening but still palpable. "So, Astron," she said smoothly, her smirk firmly in place, "what will it be? Will you protect her… or let her suffer the consequences of your pride?"

She watched him carefully, certain that she had cornered him once again. After all, men like Astron, who cared more for others than themselves, always crumbled when the safety of their loved ones was at stake.

But Astron's response would be far from what she expected.

********

I shook my head slowly. Seraphina's words hung in the air, heavy with the confidence of someone who thought they'd cornered their opponent. But to me, the whole situation felt like a poorly executed skit, one where she believed she held the script, yet couldn't see the cracks in her own performance.

'The Matriarch Emberheart is not someone to trifle with,' I echoed inwardly, suppressing the urge to laugh outright. 'If she finds out about these… moments between you and Irina, do you think she'll only punish you?'

Her question wasn't just misguided—it was laughable. This wasn't the question that needed to be asked at all. The real question, the one that mattered, was something entirely different:

How would Irina take it if the Matriarch knew?

And the answer? Oh, I already knew that answer far too well.

'She likes it,' I thought, a faint smile tugging at the corner of my lips as memories of Irina's antics resurfaced. I could practically hear her voice, bold and unflinching as she stood before the Matriarch in the Emberheart Mansion, her fiery determination blazing brighter than ever.

The Matriarch, a figure so many viewed with fear and reverence, wasn't a wall Irina sought to climb over or avoid. No, Irina treated her like a battlefield to be won, an audience to dazzle. The thought of her fiery grin and the unapologetic confidence in her stance was enough to make Seraphina's current attempt at intimidation feel almost comical.

'If Seraphina knew how Irina truly acted in front of her mother, she'd realize just how misplaced her threats are,' I mused, inwardly shaking my head.

I straightened slightly in my chair, my gaze calm as I locked eyes with Seraphina. The frost in the air, her poised demeanor, her calculated words—they were all so… hollow. She didn't realize that her supposed weapon was nothing more than a dull blade.

"You're asking the wrong questions," I said at last, my voice steady and faintly bemused.

Her smirk faltered slightly, the rhythm of her tapping fingers pausing as she tilted her head. "Oh?" she said, her silver eyes narrowing. "Enlighten me, then. What are the right questions?"

I allowed the silence to linger for a moment, as if weighing her challenge, though inwardly I was already reveling in the absurdity of it all. "The question isn't what the Matriarch would do if she found out," I said, my tone deliberate. "It's what Irina would do."

Her smirk returned, though it lacked the earlier sharpness. "And what would she do, Astron?" she asked, her tone dripping with condescension. "Cry for you? Plead with the Matriarch for mercy?"

I couldn't help it this time. A faint chuckle escaped me, quiet but unmistakable. "Cry for me?" I repeated, shaking my head. "No, Seraphina. She'd laugh."

That caught her off guard. For the first time, Seraphina's expression flickered with genuine confusion, her silver eyes narrowing further as she tried to parse my words. "Laugh?" she echoed, her voice losing some of its edge. "What do you mean by that?"

I held Seraphina's gaze, letting the faint confusion in her silver eyes linger as she processed my words. When her question finally came, sharp and demanding, I simply smiled—a calm, faint curve of my lips that betrayed nothing.

"That," I said evenly, my tone unhurried, "is for you to find out."

Leaning back in my chair, I settled into a relaxed posture, one that belied the tension in the room. "And as for those pictures," I continued, gesturing lightly toward the glossy prints on the table, "do whatever you like with them. I have no intention of 'becoming someone's people.'"

Chapter 789 - Let's have a talk (5)

"Do whatever you like with them. I have no intention of 'becoming someone's people.'"

The statement landed like a crack of thunder, the finality in my voice cutting through the chill in the air. Seraphina's smirk evaporated entirely, replaced by a sharp narrowing of her eyes. Her fingers stilled against the table, and for a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath.

Then, the frost returned.

The air grew colder, sharper, biting at the edges of my senses. The faint shimmer of frost that had lingered on the table earlier now spread outward, creeping toward me like icy tendrils. Seraphina's aura surged, suffusing the space with an oppressive chill that carried the unmistakable weight of her intent.

"You're bold," she said, her voice low, dangerous, each word cutting through the cold like shards of ice. "But don't mistake boldness for invincibility, Astron."

Her frosty aura grew heavier, the temperature in the room plummeting further as a thin layer of frost began to form along the edge of the table. The sharp bite of her mana pressed against me, seeking to unsettle, to force a reaction.

I met her gaze without flinching, my expression calm as the frost licked at my skin. The air burned with cold, each breath a sharp reminder of the pressure she was exerting. But I held firm, letting her aura wash over me without yielding an inch.

The time I had spent training over the break… It hadn't been in vain.

The memory of those days to surface briefly—the grueling hours spent honing my mana control, the countless drills in hostile environments, the deliberate effort to push my limits, to strengthen my resistance against forces like this. The weight of her frost was formidable, but it wasn't unfamiliar. It was something I'd prepared for.

I held her gaze, letting the frost bite at my skin, then finally, I broke the silence, my voice cutting through the cold like a blade. "If this is how you search for people to 'be your own,' then you're not looking for a person."

Her silver eyes narrowed further, the frost intensifying slightly, a response to my defiance.

"You're looking for a slave," I continued, my tone calm but deliberate. "And if that's the case, then you should know—those types of acts were abandoned long ago. Or have you not realized that yet?"

The frost stilled for a fraction of a second, as though my words had struck a nerve. Seraphina's smirk returned, sharper this time, though there was a flicker of something beneath it—annoyance, perhaps, or something closer to recognition.

"You think you're clever," she said, her voice soft but cold, her fingers resuming their steady tap against the frosted table. "But words won't protect you, Astron."

I leaned forward slightly, the frost crackling faintly beneath my hands as I placed them on the table, my purple eyes locking onto hers with unwavering focus. "I don't need words to protect me," I said evenly. "But if you think fear and intimidation are enough to make me bow, then you don't understand the world as well as you think you do."

The air between us felt like a battlefield, the tension palpable, her frosty aura clashing with the quiet resolve in my presence. She leaned back slightly, her silver eyes gleaming as she studied me, her expression unreadable.

"You're stubborn," she remarked finally, her voice carrying a faint trace of amusement despite the frost that lingered in the air. "But even the stubborn have limits."

"Perhaps," I replied, my voice steady. "But those limits aren't where you think they are."

For a moment, the room fell into silence once more, the frost lingering but no longer pressing as heavily against me. Seraphina's smirk remained, but her gaze carried a sharper edge now, as though she was recalibrating, rethinking her approach.

"Interesting," she said at last, her tone soft but tinged with something colder. "You're more resilient than I expected."

I stood slowly, letting the weight of the moment settle. My movements were deliberate, calm, as if the frost-drenched tension of the room meant nothing to me. Seraphina's silver eyes followed my every move, her smirk fading into something sharper, colder, her fingers stilling against the frosted table.

As I turned to leave, tilting my head slightly, a sharp projectile sliced through the air with a hiss, narrowly grazing past my ear. The icy shard slammed into the wall behind me, shattering on impact and leaving a trail of frost in its wake.

"I didn't say you could leave," Seraphina's voice rang out, low and dangerous. Her tone carried the chill of her frost but also the simmering heat of anger barely restrained.

I paused, turning my head just enough to glance at her over my shoulder. My expression remained calm, unshaken by the display. "And I don't remember seeking anyone's permission."

Her eyes burned now, a glint of rage flickering behind the icy composure she fought to maintain. The frost around her intensified, spreading further across the table, creeping toward the floor. The room felt colder than ever, her mana suffusing the space with a sharp, biting chill.

"You think you can just walk away?" she said, her voice rising slightly, the frost in her tone unmistakable. "After everything I've said—everything I've offered—you dare to turn your back on me?"

"Yes."

Her expression faltered for the briefest moment, her anger warring with disbelief at my sheer audacity. Then the frost around her flared again, the temperature in the room plunging further as her frustration surged.

"You're a fool," she hissed, her silver eyes narrowing. "Do you really think you can stand against me? Against the forces I control? I could crush you here and now."

"But you didn't," I replied, my voice calm and unyielding, carrying an edge of certainty that cut through the frost like a blade.

Seraphina's eyes narrowed further, her frost-laden aura flaring momentarily as if in response to my defiance. "And why do you think that is?" she asked, her tone sharp and biting, laced with dangerous intent. "Showing you good hospit-"

"Because it's not cost-efficient."

The words hung in the frozen air, quiet but heavy with implication. Her reaction was subtle—a slight twitch in her fingers, the faintest flicker of something in her silver eyes. She was too experienced to let her mask slip completely, but I could see the gears turning behind her sharp gaze.

'If this were before,' I mused inwardly, my expression betraying nothing, 'perhaps it might have been worth the effort for her to crush me. But as of right now, it isn't.'

I could read Seraphina like an open book—not because she was careless, but because I understood her type. People like her operated on logic, efficiency, and calculated outcomes. Every action had to serve a purpose, align with a broader strategy. Wasting resources, drawing unnecessary attention, or taking reckless risks? None of it fit within their framework.

'And people who operate within a purely logical framework,' I thought, my gaze steady, 'always have the limitations of logic.'

She leaned forward slightly, her fingers resuming their faint tapping against the frosted table. The sound was sharp, deliberate, a rhythm meant to project control. "Cost-efficient," she echoed, her tone laced with derision. "You think I'm sparing you because of some calculation?"

"Aren't you?"

Her smirk returned, sharper now, but there was a flicker of hesitation behind it. She wanted me to doubt my own reasoning, but I knew better. I could see the unspoken truth in her actions, the precise control she maintained even in the midst of her anger. If crushing me were truly in her best interest, she wouldn't have hesitated. But the fact that I was still standing here, facing her without consequence, said everything.

"You like to believe you're in control, Seraphina," I said, my tone steady, measured. "That every move you make is deliberate, calculated. But here's the thing about calculations—they're only as good as the data they're based on. And you? You're working with incomplete information."

Her smirk faltered slightly, though her frosty demeanor remained intact. "Is that so?" she asked, her voice quieter now, tinged with an edge of curiosity she couldn't quite suppress.

"It is."

Seraphina's fingers stilled against the frosted table, her sharp silver eyes narrowing as she studied me. "What information do I lack, then?" she asked, her voice quieter now, tinged with both curiosity and irritation.

I paused mid-step, turning back just enough to meet her gaze over my shoulder.

"That," I said, my tone deliberate and unhurried, "is, once again, for you to find out."

The words hung in the air, sharp and final, as I turned back and continued toward the door. This time, I didn't stop, didn't look back. The frost still lingered in the room, the chill brushing against my back as I stepped out, but I paid it no mind.

The sound of her sharp tapping resumed faintly behind me, echoing against the cold silence I left in my wake. She wouldn't follow—this wasn't her way. Seraphina Frostborne didn't chase; she calculated. And now, she'd be left with the pieces of her own game to sort through.

I stepped into the hallway, the air warmer, and lighter, a stark contrast to the cold tension I'd just left behind.

I really felt like laughing.

"This whole scenario," I couldn't help but mumble….

"Feels like a skit to me. A performance that you've written for an audience that doesn't exist. You are just underestimating Irina, Seraphina. And that's your mistake. And well, until you learn this, you will just flutter on your own."

Chapter 790 - Let's have a talk (6)

Seraphina stared at the door long after Astron had left, her silver eyes locked on the space he had occupied mere moments ago. The frost on the table remained, a stark reminder of her frustration. Her fingers tapped against its icy surface in a rhythm she didn't even notice, her thoughts churning as she tried to piece together what had just transpired.

'Did he… just reject me?'

The thought was sharp, cutting, as if it didn't belong in the same realm as her reality. Seraphina Frostborne, heir to one of the most powerful mage families, had just been defied outright.

Her silver eyes narrowed, her tapping fingers stilling as her mind replayed the encounter in vivid detail. His calm demeanor, his unflinching gaze, the way he had dismissed her frost as if it were no more than a passing chill—all of it clashed with her understanding of people.

'Doesn't he care about Irina? Doesn't he realize the consequences of his refusal?'

She clenched her hand into a fist, the frost intensifying momentarily before she forced herself to relax. But the questions wouldn't stop, spiraling through her mind like an endless storm.

'He should have cared. He should have folded. I gave him every reason to comply.'

Seraphina leaned back in her chair, her smirk long gone, replaced by a thoughtful, almost troubled frown.

'Did I miscalculate?'

The possibility was as foreign as it was unwelcome. She prided herself on her ability to read people, to predict their actions, and to manipulate their weaknesses. But Astron…

'He's either a fool or something far more dangerous.'

Her fingers resumed their rhythm, slower this time, the tapping a reflection of her inward struggle. She had been so certain that he cared for Irina, that his actions would be driven by a desire to protect her. And yet, he had walked away, calm and resolute, as if her threats were little more than noise.

'Could he be selfish?'

The thought lingered, unwelcome but persistent. Perhaps she had misjudged him entirely. If he didn't care about Irina—or anyone else, for that matter—then her leverage was meaningless.

'But no… that doesn't make sense,' she countered herself, her silver eyes narrowing further. 'If he were truly selfish, he wouldn't have built such a bond with her. Irina isn't the type to invest in someone who doesn't reciprocate.'

The more she thought, the more tangled the web became. Her evaluation of Astron was fracturing, the conclusions she had drawn suddenly feeling shaky, incomplete.

'Have I underestimated him? Overestimated him? Or am I simply missing something?'

She leaned forward, her elbows resting on the frosted table, her fingers steepled as she stared down at the photographs still spread before her. Irina's smile, her relaxed posture near Astron—they told a story, one that didn't align with the man who had just walked out of the room.

'Is there really something that I don't know?'

The thought stung, and for a moment, her fingers stilled against the frosted table. Her sharp mind, honed through years of calculated maneuvers and intricate social games, couldn't grasp the gaps in this encounter. And that sting—the bitter taste of an unanswered question—only fueled the fire burning within her.

Slowly, her eyes drifted from the photographs to the frost spreading faintly across the edges of the table. She clenched her fist, her nails digging into her palm as anger surged within her.

'Besting me twice… First Irina, now him.'

The memory of Irina's rise still grated against her pride, a wound that had yet to heal. And now Astron, with his calm defiance, had reopened it, cutting even deeper.

'It's infuriating,' she thought, her teeth clenching as her emotions surged. 'He dares to reject me, to walk away as if I'm nothing?'

The frost around her pulsed faintly, spreading further across the surface of the table. She stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor with a sharp, jarring sound. Her hand brushed against the table's edge, the frost crackling faintly beneath her touch.

'Fine,' she thought, her anger coalescing into a cold, sharp resolve. 'If he wants to reject me, then it's time for him to face the consequences.'

She turned sharply on her heel, her silver hair trailing behind her like a cascade of frost, and began walking toward the exit. Before she left, she paused near the counter, reaching into her coat pocket. She pulled out a few neatly folded bills, her movements brisk and precise.

The cafe owner, a middle-aged man with a calm demeanor, took the money silently, a faint smile crossing his lips. He glanced at the faint frost still lingering in the air and offered her a polite nod, as if to acknowledge the unspoken arrangement.

Seraphina said nothing, her eyes glinting coldly as she turned and stepped out into the bustling streets. The warm sunlight contrasted sharply with the frost still clinging to her aura, a testament to the storm brewing within her.

Her strides were purposeful, her thoughts racing as she made her way back to her room.

'Let him see what happens when you cross me,' she thought, her resolve hardening with each step. She had lost too much already—her rank, her standing, and now her pride. And she would ensure that Astron Natusalune paid the price for daring to challenge her.

Seraphina stormed into her room, the door closing with a sharp click. The sunlight streaming through the windows did little to thaw the icy aura surrounding her. Her silver eyes glinted with a cold, calculated fury as she moved toward her desk, her strides purposeful.

Sitting down, she reached for her smartwatch, her fingers moving with precision as she pulled up the contact list.

Seraphina tapped her smartwatch, scrolling through her contacts until she landed on a name: Vex Media, a small but ambitious agency with a penchant for stirring the pot. They were new, eager, and most importantly, desperate to establish themselves in a cutthroat industry. Their willingness to take risks made them the perfect tools for what she had in mind.

She initiated the call, and it connected within moments. A bright, eager voice answered. "Miss Frostborne! An honor as always. What can we do for you today?"

Seraphina's lips curled into a faint smirk, her voice smooth and composed despite the cold fury simmering beneath. "I have something for you. Exclusive content. Pictures."

The person on the other end audibly perked up, their tone shifting to one of barely contained excitement. "Pictures? Exclusive? Tell me more."

"I want these shared."

There was a brief pause, then the voice on the other end spoke again, laced with enthusiasm. "Of course, Miss Frostborne. Consider it done. With your name behind this, we'll make sure it gains traction immediately."

Seraphina's smirk deepened, though her tone remained icy. "Good. I'll send you the materials shortly. And a word of advice—be thorough, but subtle. If this blows up too quickly, people will start asking questions."

"Understood. You can count on us."

She ended the call and leaned back in her chair, her fingers brushing against the smartwatch as she uploaded the pictures to Vex Media's secure dropbox. As the files transferred, her mind worked over the next steps, the possible outcomes, and the eventual fallout.

'They'll think I'm backing them,' she mused, her smirk sharpening. 'And why wouldn't they? The Frostborne name is enough to make anyone believe they're untouchable.'

But she had no intention of keeping ties to Vex Media once their usefulness ran out. They were expendable, a means to an end. When the backlash inevitably came, she would simply step away, her hands clean, while the fledgling agency bore the brunt of any repercussions.

The files finished uploading, and Seraphina sat back, exhaling slowly. The frost in the room began to dissipate as her anger subsided, replaced by cold satisfaction.

'Let's see how you handle this, Astron,' she thought, her silver eyes narrowing. 'And when the dust settles, we'll see if your composure still holds.'

She rose from her chair, her movements deliberate and poised. The game was in motion, and she would watch as her carefully laid plans unraveled the facade Astron had so confidently upheld. If he thought he could defy her without consequences, he was sorely mistaken.

Though little she know, in the dorm room that is right beside her, a talk of the same content had been happening.

*****

Irina kicked off her boots with a satisfied sigh, her fiery hair cascading over her shoulders as she stretched. The soft hum of her room's mana-infused lights filled the space with a calming glow, and she felt the weight of the day's lectures slipping away. She glanced at her gaming console sitting idle on her desk, a small smile tugging at her lips.

'It's been too long,' she thought, reaching for the headset. 'Time to unwind. Finally.'

But just as she was about to power on the console, her mana-imbued communication device buzzed on her desk, the screen lighting up with an unfamiliar number. Irina frowned, her amber eyes narrowing slightly as she picked up the device. She hesitated for a moment before swiping to accept the call.

"Who is this?" she asked, her tone sharp but curious.

A distorted voice crackled through the line, low and mechanical, clearly altered to disguise the caller's identity. "Miss Irina Emberheart. A pleasure to finally speak with you."

Irina's brows furrowed, her posture stiffening as she sensed the tension behind the words. "And who exactly are you?" she demanded, her voice edged with suspicion.

The voice chuckled, the sound grating and hollow. "Who I am isn't important. What I have, however, is."

Before she could respond, her communication device vibrated again, this time with an incoming file. Irina opened it cautiously, her amber eyes narrowing as a series of photos appeared on the screen.

Her heart skipped a beat, but only for a moment.

'Heh….'

Chapter 791 - Outer currents 

The images were intimate, carefully chosen to imply far more than what had actually happened: her hugging Astron tightly at the Spatial Gate station, another of her leaning into him at the Stellamare Museum, and the two of them entering a high-class hotel together.

Scandalous, indeed—at least for those who didn't know the context. But instead of fear or panic, a wry smirk formed on Irina's lips as she scrolled through the pictures.

"Well," she said, her tone almost amused, "you certainly went to a lot of trouble, didn't you?"

The voice on the other end faltered slightly, as though caught off guard by her reaction. "Trouble worth taking," it replied, regaining its composure. "These photos would certainly make waves if they were released to the public. Your family, your reputation—it would all take a significant hit, wouldn't it?"

Irina's smirk widened as she leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs casually. The glow from her communication device cast a soft light on her face, but her fiery amber eyes gleamed with amusement. She rested her chin on her palm, the picture of feigned nonchalance.

"Oh, absolutely," she said, her tone light but edged with mock concern. "You're right. These photos are devastating. My poor reputation. My fragile family name. I'm positively trembling in fear."

The voice on the other end hesitated again, the distorted quality unable to hide the flicker of uncertainty. "Mock me all you want, Miss Emberheart," they finally replied, their tone regaining its venomous edge. "But we both know these images would cause a stir if they were released. The Emberheart name would never recover."

'Emberheart name? At least they've done their homework.' Irina thought, biting back a chuckle. 'Though, this really isn't the first time someone's tried something like this. I almost want to applaud the effort.'

She straightened slightly, her smirk fading into an expression of mild curiosity. "Alright," she said, her voice softening into something closer to sincerity. "Let's say you're right. Let's say these photos could ruin me. What exactly are you proposing?"

The voice didn't miss a beat. "100,000,000 Valer," they stated flatly. "Transferred to the account details I'll provide. In exchange, the photos disappear, and this conversation never happened."

Irina whistled softly, her brows raising in mock astonishment. "Hundred million?" she echoed, her tone carrying just a hint of disbelief. "You don't mess around, do you?"

"I'm not here to negotiate," the voice snapped, a touch of impatience creeping into their distorted tone. "This is a fair price for the silence I'm offering. Considering the damage these photos would do—"

"To my reputation, my family name, my fragile social standing," Irina interjected smoothly, ticking off each point on her fingers. "Yes, yes, I got the idea. And tell me, how exactly did you decide on Hundred million? Is that the standard blackmail rate these days, or are you just feeling ambitious?"

"Don't test me, Miss Emberheart," the voice warned, the threat hanging in the air. "You have twenty-four hours. Transfer the money, or these photos go public."

Irina's smirk froze as the blackmailer's words echoed in her ears. For a moment, her amber eyes glinted with an unreadable emotion, but then her face turned cold, her expression hardening into something sharp and unyielding. The fire in her gaze burned brighter, but this time, it carried an edge of deadly resolve.

"Fuck off, you son of a bitch," she said flatly, her voice cutting through the line like a blade.

The atmosphere shifted instantly. The faint hum of her room seemed to fall silent, and for a second, there was no response from the other side. Then the blackmailer's distorted voice returned, now tinged with a mix of indignation and forced control.

"You should mind your language," they hissed, their tone laced with menace. "If you want to preserve—"

"I don't want to preserve anything," Irina interrupted, her voice rising in sharp defiance. "Do whatever you fucking want, you stupid rat. Do you really think you'll be left alive after pulling a stunt like this? You'll be burned alive."

The blackmailer fell silent again, the air on the other end of the line thick with tension. Irina leaned forward, her fiery hair casting shadows over her face as her smirk returned, this time filled with venomous amusement.

"Let me spell it out for you," she continued, her tone calm but dripping with contempt. "You're playing a game you're not equipped to win. You think you've got leverage? You think these photos mean anything to me? I've been in this position before, and guess what? I'm still here."

The line crackled faintly before the blackmailer spoke again, their tone dripping with forced confidence. "Your bluff won't mean anything," they said, the distorted voice losing some of its earlier venom. "But since you really want to refuse, don't mind us if we're impolite."

With that, the call abruptly ended, leaving Irina staring at the blank screen. The glow of her mana-imbued communication device faded, plunging her room into a quiet that felt heavier than before. For a moment, she didn't move, her amber eyes fixed on the device as her thoughts churned.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her fiery presence dimming as she exhaled slowly. 'They ended the call, huh?' she thought, her expression unreadable. 'Coward.'

But beneath her defiance, a faint current of unease rippled through her chest. The reality of the situation was not lost on her. 'The moment those photos are revealed… things will take an irreversible turn.'

Irina leaned back in her chair, resting her head against the cool wood as she stared at the ceiling. A flicker of anxiety danced at the edges of her mind, the what-ifs and possibilities pressing against her resolve. She could already picture the headlines, the whispers, the scandalous stories twisted out of context. It was the kind of attention that could ripple through her family, her reputation, and even Astron's.

'And that,' she thought, her lips curling into a faint smirk, 'is exactly why I don't care.'

Her amber eyes narrowed, her thoughts snapping back to the infirmary, to Maya's icy blue gaze, to the way the senior had stood tall despite whatever inner turmoil had gripped her. The memory burned bright, filling Irina with a renewed sense of determination.

'If there's one thing I learned from that woman,' she mused, 'it's that hesitation is a waste of time. If I let fear control me, I'll never win.'

She stood abruptly, pacing the room as her fiery hair swayed behind her. The faint light from her desk lamp cast flickering shadows on the walls, matching the storm of emotions swirling within her. There was fear, yes. But there was also exhilaration—a spark of rebellion that refused to be extinguished.

"I won't be scared of some idiot with a voice modulator," she muttered, her tone sharp and decisive. "If they want to play games, I'll show them how it's done."

Saying that she opened the Virtual Reality simulator.

*******

The room was cloaked in darkness, the faint glow of Emberheart flames flickering from the hearth the only source of light. The Matriarch sat at her desk, her hands folded before her, her amber eyes piercing through the gloom as she listened to Esme's measured voice.

"Matriarch," Esme began, standing a few steps away, a slim tablet in her hand displaying a steady stream of reports. Her tone was calm, but the tension in her posture was impossible to miss. "Our forces have been holding their ground, but there have been complications."

It has been two weeks since the Emberheart and Hawkins families began their clashes, but even in just two weeks, things have been rather hectic for both families.

The Matriarch's gaze didn't waver, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "Elaborate."

Esme swiped at the tablet, pulling up the specific reports. "In Andelheim, we orchestrated a precise strike on their mana crystal refinement facility. It has been completely shut down, and their operations there are at a standstill. In Stellara, our agents intercepted a major shipment of alchemical reagents, cutting off a vital supply line for their potion manufacturing. And in Frostveil, we sabotaged their transportation network, leaving their goods stranded and vulnerable."

The Matriarch's lips curled into a faint smile, the edges razor-sharp. "Good. And their distributors?"

"Fearful," Esme replied, her tone colder now. "Our reputation precedes us, Matriarch. Several of their smaller distribution partners have already withdrawn from their agreements, citing concerns about retaliation. We've also pressured our own affiliated brands to sever ties with the Hawkins' products. Many have complied, though there are a few holdouts who may require… further encouragement."

The Matriarch nodded, her expression unreadable. "And their allies?"

Esme's lips tightened. "That is where complications have arisen. The Hawkins family has secured the support of the Ventorien family, the wind-affinity mages of the Mage Association."

The Matriarch's eyes narrowed slightly, though her voice remained calm. "Ventorien? As expected of them. Their grudge with us has festered since my father put an end to their Patriarch. Petty vengeance, even after a century."

Esme inclined her head. "Indeed, Matriarch. Their involvement complicates matters, but it does not yet present an insurmountable challenge. However, their influence within the Mage Association has caused a few of our contracts to be delayed."

The Matriarch's gaze returned to the flickering flames. "Let them try. The Ventoriens will find that the Emberheart fire burns just as fiercely as ever. They are foolish to tie themselves to the Hawkins, but we will deal with them in due time. What of our own losses?"

Esme hesitated briefly, then continued. "Initially, our progress was steady. However, our mages and personnel have recently reported encountering opposition of frost-aligned magic. These encounters have been increasingly coordinated and difficult to counter."

The Matriarch's eyes sharpened instantly, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "Frostborne?"

Esme nodded. "We suspect so, Matriarch. Their tactics and the mana signatures match those used by the Frostborne family."

A dangerous glint entered the Matriarch's gaze, her lips pressing into a thin line. "As expected of that kind," she murmured, her voice low and laced with venom. "They are still as sneaky as ever."

Her fingers drummed against the desk, the faint sound punctuating the crackling of the flames.

Esme's voice softened slightly. "What are your orders, Matriarch?"

Chapter 792 - Outer currents (2)

The Matriarch's fingers stilled, her amber eyes blazing with a fierce, unyielding resolve. The flickering light of the Emberheart flames danced across her face, illuminating the cold, calculated expression that had come to define her rule.

"Rats, frost, or wind," she began, her voice low but carrying the weight of absolute authority, "it matters not. The Hawkins family lit this fire when they dared to target my child. They chose this war, and a war is what they will receive."

Her gaze shifted to Esme, sharp and unrelenting. "We will not relent. The Frostborne and the Ventoriens are distractions—nothing more. The Hawkins family is our focus. They must be reminded why no one challenges the Emberhearts and escapes unscathed."

Esme inclined her head, her own expression hardening in response to her Matriarch's command. "Understood, Matriarch. The fight will continue. What of the Frostborne? Their involvement is growing bolder with each passing day."

The Matriarch's lips curled into a faint, predatory smile. "They wish to play their games in the shadows, as they always have. Let them. The Frostborne thrive on secrecy, and secrecy is a weakness when exposed to the light. Pressure their operatives, disrupt their alliances, and strike where they least expect. They will fall, just as they have before."

Her gaze flickered with cold amusement as she continued, her voice soft but dripping with venom. "And the Ventoriens… they are fools to involve themselves in this conflict. Their petty grudge blinds them to the fact that they are nothing but pawns in the Hawkins' schemes. If they step too far, they will burn."

Esme straightened, her fingers tightening around the tablet as she took in her Matriarch's words. "And the Young Lady?" she asked carefully. "Shall I ensure her protection remains a priority?"

The Matriarch's expression darkened, her tone sharpening. "Irina is my daughter. She does not need to be coddled. But make no mistake—any who threaten her will face my full wrath."

Esme hesitated for the briefest moment before nodding. "It will be done, Matriarch."

The Matriarch's eyes returned to the flickering flames, her thoughts clearly fixed on the road ahead. "This war will not be won overnight, Esme. The Hawkins have made their move, and their allies believe they have tipped the scales in their favor. But they have underestimated the Emberheart resolve. We will not just defeat them—we will crush them."

She leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "The Hawkins family will be reduced to ash, their allies scattered to the winds. And when the flames settle, the world will remember the cost of crossing the Emberheart name."

Esme bowed deeply, her resolve matching the steel in her Matriarch's voice. "Your will shall be done, Matriarch."

As Esme turned to leave, the Matriarch's gaze lingered on the flames, her amber eyes gleaming with the intensity of her conviction. "Let the war continue," she murmured, more to herself than to the empty room. "And let them see what it means to provoke the lion's den. They will burn."

********

The faint hum of the city outside was drowned by the silence inside Marc Hartley's grand office. The warm sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows did little to soften the cold tension that had settled in the room. Marc sat at his desk, his fingers steepled as he stared at the holographic report floating in front of him. His hazel eyes burned with a mix of frustration and calculated determination.

A sharp knock on the door broke his thoughts.

"Enter," Marc commanded, his voice steady but laced with impatience.

Ray stepped inside, his posture as impeccable as ever, though the faint furrow in his brow betrayed the gravity of the news he carried. In his hands was a sleek black tablet loaded with updates on the ongoing conflict.

"Sir," Ray began, his tone measured. "I have the latest report regarding the Phillips family."

Marc leaned back in his chair, gesturing for Ray to proceed. "Go on."

Ray tapped the tablet, and a detailed projection appeared above it, showing a map of contested territories. Lines and dots marked gains and losses, the most recent shifts painted in a stark red.

"Over the past three months, we've made significant progress against the Phillips family," Ray began. "We've acquired multiple gate rights, industries, and a substantial portion of their resources, particularly in the western sectors. However—"

Marc's gaze sharpened at the hesitation in Ray's voice. "However?"

Ray exhaled softly, his tone turning grim. "Over the past two weeks, the situation has shifted dramatically. The Emberheart family's conflict with the Hawkins family has caused ripple effects across the federation. Their clashes have destabilized key markets and redirected alliances. The Phillips family seems to have leveraged this chaos to their advantage."

Marc's jaw tightened, his hazel eyes narrowing. "Go on."

Ray continued, pulling up more detailed graphs. "We've been encountering resistance on multiple fronts. The Phillips family has fortified their positions and forged unexpected alliances, likely spurred by the Emberheart-Hawkins war. Our recent attempts to secure additional gate resources have been blocked outright, and we've faced increasing sabotage within our acquired territories."

Marc leaned forward, his voice low and sharp. "Who are they working with?"

Ray nodded, anticipating the question. "We've identified several smaller guilds aligning with the Phillips family—nothing significant on their own, but their combined efforts have proven troublesome."

Marc's hazel eyes darkened, his expression growing colder as he processed Ray's words. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the polished desk, and interlaced his fingers tightly, a sign of his mounting frustration.

"A bunch of small guilds?" Marc repeated, his voice low but laced with irritation. "You're telling me that these fragmented groups, none of which have substantial influence or resources, are somehow blocking our expansion and striking with precision? That doesn't make sense, Ray."

Ray inclined his head slightly, acknowledging Marc's point. "I agree, sir. It doesn't add up. While these small guilds are visible on the surface, we suspect there's a larger force at play—someone backing the Phillips family, possibly providing them with strategic guidance and resources."

Marc's gaze narrowed as his mind churned through the possibilities. "The timing is too convenient," he muttered, more to himself than to Ray. "It started just after the Emberheart and Hawkins families began their clash. That kind of chaos is fertile ground for hidden players to act."

Ray, sensing the direction of Marc's thoughts, ventured cautiously, "We did consider the possibility of the Ventorien family being involved, sir. Their grudge against the Emberhearts could lead them to exploit this situation and gain influence here in Valerian Federation."

Marc shook his head, dismissing the idea almost immediately. "The Ventoriens are from the Arcadian Dominion. Their reach here is limited, especially compared to the Emberhearts. They may be opportunistic, but they lack the strength and connections to orchestrate something of this scale in the Valerian Federation."

Ray nodded, agreeing with Marc's assessment. "That was our conclusion as well. Which leaves us with the Hawkins family as the other potential suspect."

Marc leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "The Hawkins… They'd certainly benefit from destabilizing both the Emberhearts and us simultaneously. But they're locked in a brutal war with the Emberhearts. Diverting resources to support the Phillips family while fighting the Emberhearts would be risky—even for them."

Ray hesitated, then said carefully, "It's still an assumption, sir, but the coordination and the sudden shift in the Phillips family's fortunes suggest that someone with significant resources and experience is assisting them."

Marc's fingers drummed on the desk, his frustration palpable. "I've been in this business long enough to know when unseen hands are pulling strings. Whoever is behind this isn't doing it for the Phillips family alone. They're playing a larger game."

Ray stood silent, waiting as Marc's sharp mind pieced through the intricate web of possibilities. After a moment, Marc's lips pressed into a thin line, his expression hardening.

"Whoever it is," Marc said, his tone icy, "we need to expose them. If they're leveraging the Phillips family to make a move against us, we can't afford to sit back and wait for them to gain more ground."

Ray nodded. "What are your orders, sir?"

"First," Marc said firmly, "intensify intelligence-gathering efforts. I want every detail about the Phillips family's recent dealings, alliances, and movements. Focus on uncovering any external support they've been receiving. Whoever is backing them, we'll find them."

"Understood, sir," Ray said, taking notes swiftly.

"Second," Marc continued, "maintain pressure on the smaller guilds working with the Phillips family. They may be pawns, but pawns can lead us to the hand that moves them. Squeeze them—financially, operationally, however you can. Make it clear that standing against us comes at a cost."

Marc leaned back in his chair, his hazel eyes narrowing as he stared at the holographic map of contested territories. The lines of conflict, the shifting alliances, the sudden resistance—it all painted a picture that felt disturbingly unfamiliar. His fingers tapped against the desk, a steady rhythm that matched the churn of his thoughts.

"This change is too drastic," Marc murmured, almost to himself. "It's not just strategy or resources—there's something bigger at play here. A force we haven't accounted for."

Ray stood silently, observing his employer's expression harden. Marc's instincts, honed by decades in the cutthroat world of business and power, were rarely wrong. And now, those instincts screamed danger.

Marc's voice broke the silence, sharp and decisive. "Ray, this is no ordinary conflict. My gut tells me we've been dragged into something far larger than we anticipated. Something I couldn't foresee. We cannot take chances."

Ray straightened, nodding once. "What are your orders, sir?"

Marc's gaze turned cold and resolute. "From now on, every member of the Hartley family is to be under constant protection. Double the security around our properties, estates, and businesses. I don't care how discreet it is—ensure they are guarded at all times."

Ray bowed slightly. "It will be done, sir."

Marc's eyes flickered with a hint of something deeper—concern. He had fought too long and too hard to build the Hartley legacy. He would not let it crumble under the weight of an unseen enemy. His thoughts shifted to Ethan, his youngest and most unpredictable child. A flicker of resolve sparked in his gaze.

"As for Ethan…" Marc's voice trailed off momentarily before he spoke again, his tone steady and deliberate. "Contact Kaya."

Chapter 794 - Outer Currents (4)

The opulent room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting a warm amber hue over the lavish furnishings. Ornate carvings adorned the dark wood furniture, and luxurious velvet curtains framed the tall windows. The air was scented with a faint trace of expensive cologne, mingled with the lingering scent of intimacy.

In the center of the room, a massive bed with silk sheets lay in disarray. Zafira reclined against the pillows, her raven-black hair spilling over her bare shoulders like a dark cascade. Beside her, a young man slept soundly, his face serene but his body showing signs of exhaustion. His chest rose and fell steadily, the sheets barely covering his well-defined physique.

Zafira's lips curved into a satisfied smile as she glanced at him. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the intricate patterns on the silk sheets. The room's opulence, the man's identity, none of it truly mattered to her. What mattered was what she had achieved.

Her crimson eyes gleamed with triumph as she reflected on the events that led her here. She had infiltrated the academy during the final exams, sensing the faint yet unmistakable energy of Belthazor. But despite her efforts, she hadn't been able to confirm the true owner of that power. It was fleeting, elusive, slipping through her grasp like smoke.

'A one-time opportunity wasted,' she thought, her smile fading for a brief moment. 'That's why I needed a more secure foothold. Something more... permanent.'

She turned her gaze to the young man sleeping beside her. His identity wasn't important, just as his actions during their encounter weren't. What mattered was his position—a hunter with credentials, and more importantly, someone with an inroad to the academy.

Her smile returned, this time laced with wicked satisfaction. 'Taking the body of another hunter… it's almost too easy. Their ambition, their pride… they make for such willing tools.'

Leaning closer to the man, she weaved her hand around him, her fingers tracing the lines of his tired body. "You have proven to be quite useful…" she murmured, her voice a sultry whisper. "And you were quite fine in bed too…"

Her smile widened, cold and merciless. "Though sadly, this is the end."

With a flick of her wrist, a faint pulse of dark energy emanated from her fingers, flowing into the man's forehead. His body twitched slightly before falling still, his peaceful expression undisturbed. His memories of the night—of Zafira's presence, of everything they'd shared—were wiped clean in an instant.

Zafira sat up, her movements fluid and deliberate. She dressed swiftly, her mind already focused on the next step of her plan. As she adjusted her attire, she cast one last glance at the man who had unwittingly served his purpose.

"Thank you," she said softly, her tone almost mockingly tender. "Your sacrifice will not be forgotten… for as long as I need it."

With that, she slipped out of the room, her presence fading into the shadows. The rich hunter would wake up hours later, disoriented but none the wiser, and Zafira would be long gone. But now, she had what she needed—a solid position within the academy and a path closer to her true objective.

As she walked into the cool night air, her smile returned. The hunt was far from over, but the pieces were falling into place.

**********

A vast chamber stretched out in shadowed grandeur, a Gothic masterpiece bathed in the pale kiss of moonlight. The ceilings arched impossibly high, their darkened spires vanishing into an inky void, as if trying to pierce the heavens themselves. Silver beams filtered through stained glass windows, depicting twisted yet awe-inspiring tales of ancient saints and sinners, their intricate colors muted by the night.

Stone columns lined the cathedral, each a towering sentinel carved with grotesques—some angelic, others monstrous, their gazes eternal and unyielding. Between them hung black iron candelabras, their wax-dripped candles snuffed out long ago, leaving the hall to echo with an eerie, sacred silence.

Artifacts were scattered throughout like forgotten relics of a bygone age. A gilded chalice rested atop a marble pedestal, its edges encrusted with jewels that caught the moonlight like tiny stars. Along the walls, towering suits of armor stood at attention, their hollow visages staring forward as though keeping a vigil. A massive organ loomed at the far end of the hall, its pipes gleaming faintly, promising a thunderous hymn that might shatter the stillness if played.

And there, amidst the majesty and the shadows, a man stood.

His figure was tall and commanding, his posture regal yet unnervingly still, as though he were a marble statue come to life. The moonlight seemed to seek him out, outlining his sharp features with a silver edge. His high cheekbones and chiseled jaw bore the marks of age and wisdom, while his deep-set eyes gleamed with a cold, calculating light. A large mustache adorned his face, meticulously groomed and curling at the ends with precision, as if mocking the disorder of the world around him.

His attire was as striking as the man himself—a deep crimson coat, its trim lined with black velvet, draped over a crisp white shirt. Gold chains hung from his vest, catching faint glimmers of light, while a black cape with a blood-red lining flowed down his back like a shadow refusing to detach itself. In his gloved hands, he held an ornate cane, the handle shaped like a raven's head, carved from dark ebony.

The air around him was heavy, not with menace, but with authority. It was as if the cathedral itself bent its will to his presence, and the silence wasn't mere absence of sound—it was submission.

He tilted his head slightly, his piercing gaze tracing the outlines of the artifacts, as if assessing their worth. Then, almost imperceptibly, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, his mustache curling slightly upward with the movement.

"The past echoes louder in places like this," he murmured, his voice a low, velvety baritone that reverberated faintly off the stone walls. "One only needs to listen carefully… and take what the silence offers."

As his words dissolved into the stillness, a faint rustling sound stirred from the shadows behind the columns, too quiet for the ordinary ear to catch. Yet the man didn't flinch, his sharp features remaining calm, his presence unshaken.

Instead, he turned his head ever so slightly, allowing the faintest hint of a smile to widen. "Come forward," he said, his voice dripping with quiet command.

The sound of footsteps echoed softly against the stone floor, a rhythm that seemed almost reverent as it approached. From behind one of the towering columns, a man emerged, his form shadowed yet precise. He moved with purpose, each step deliberate, until he came to a halt a few paces behind the figure in crimson.

He dropped to one knee, bowing his head low as the weight of the cathedral's silence pressed down on them both. "Great Master," he said, his voice steady yet laced with reverence, the words ringing clear in the still air.

The man in crimson turned slightly, the edge of his cape rippling as though the air itself shifted to accommodate his movement. He didn't look down at the kneeling figure but instead tilted his head, gazing up at the towering stained-glass windows. "What is it, Valthar?" His voice, smooth and commanding, resonated with an undertone that demanded answers without delay.

Valthar raised his head slightly, his expression one of solemn pride. "As you instructed, we have begun supplying the Philips Family. The arrangements are in motion, and all is proceeding as we wished."

The man in crimson, his sharp features bathed in the cold silver of the moonlight, gave the faintest nod. "Good. As it should be."

"And," Valthar continued, "as you predicted, the Emberheart Family has yet to discover our mages' true affiliations. They remain convinced they belong to the Frostborne Family, as you intended."

At this, a subtle smile played on the Great Master's lips. He turned fully now, his piercing gaze falling upon the kneeling figure with a quiet intensity. "Of course," he said softly, the words carrying an air of inevitability. "Predictability has always been the weakness of the powerful."

For a moment, he said nothing more, letting the weight of his presence fill the space between them. Then, his gaze shifted upward, tracing the cathedral's massive arches, its heights lost in shadow. "One hundred and thirteen years," he murmured, his tone reverent, as though speaking to the cathedral itself.

He lowered his gaze back to Valthar, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "Now," he continued, his voice sharp as the edge of a blade, "isn't it finally time for our family to take its rightful place?"

Valthar nodded fervently, his hand pressed against his chest in a gesture of loyalty. "It is, Great Master. The pieces are aligning, just as you have foreseen."

The man in crimson stepped forward, his boots tapping lightly against the stone as he moved closer to Valthar. He extended a gloved hand, resting it on the man's shoulder, his touch both reassuring and unyielding. "Good." he said simply, his tone a mixture of approval and expectation.

The light of the moon shifted, casting his features in stark relief. His smile widened, sharp and calculating. "Prepare the others. The time of silence is over."