"Heh. Once again, you've got beggars lining up at your door, pleading for you to swoop in and save their sorry asses, huh?" Eno sneered.
He turned to Asher with the kind of smirk that begged to be punched, shrugged helplessly, and shook his head. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. How about I give you a better deal? I'll hand you my Ang Elixir. No charge."
Kim Hang's eyes went wide. For nothing? Why? What kind of lunatic gave something like that away for free?
SLAM!
"Just take mine! Tell people you got it from me, Eno Dianoco!"
Eno slammed his palm onto the counter. If he'd put just a hair more strength into it, the whole counter would've exploded into splinters and glitters.
"What are you trying to pull here? Showing off?" Kim Hang shot to his feet, voice sharp. "Dianoco, are you looking to make the Kim Family your enemy?"
Kim Hang's build was solid. Seasoned, steady, the kind of man you could picture walking through a battlefield without losing his stride. Honor, dignity, loyalty. He was basically the human embodiment of an overly-polished family crest.
He'd raised his only son, Kim Daechan, into a ranker just as strong as himself. Eleventh and Twelfth strongest, father and son, back-to-back in the ranks, and probably in the family photo album too.
Imagine it: you're a ranker in your own right, and your dad's right there too. Pride, legacy, bragging rights at every family gathering. It was a historic first, real success passed down like an heirloom blade. Not even Lim Songbai had managed to raise a son as strong as he was.
In this impossible world, the Kim family wasn't just a name.
They were legacy.
But who was Eno Dianoco to back down? Either he was stupid, or he was just a reckless young man (though he looked otherwise) with comparable power. At least for now, no one was in the mood to find out.
"Relax, old man. But be realistic here," Eno said, grinning, mocking. "You came here begging for a favor. Yeah, sure, you tried to make it respectable, kneeling, offering to pay for it and all, but three other people in this room could make a better offer than you. You need to know your place, alright?"
Kim Hang burst into anger, desperation blazing in his eyes. "Dianoco—!"
"Lord Kim, please calm down," another voice suddenly cut in, smooth, like it was trying to slip a leash onto a rabid dog.
Giovan Lomax gently yet swiftly slid himself into the space between Hang and Eno. "I know you're worried for your son's safety right now. I've heard the news. Wasn't it a rogue rift on the 88th-floor?"
Three days ago, Kim Daechan had been reported missing after going hunting with his party and companions.
He'd sent messages home, a very responsible son he was, claiming he was done, but also noting "weird things" on the 88th-floor. Naturally, he then went to investigate. After all, as a public figure, he was expected to mind other tower climbers and hunters's safety.
That was when he lost contact with the rest of the world.
When Kim Hang investigated, it turned out a rogue rift had swallowed most of the missing individuals whole. The rest, lucky them, were just the ones injured from the previous, scheduled hunting session, resting at the outskirts of the 88th-floor. When they were found, they told Kim Hang everything.
Now, a rogue rift wasn't like a regular rift. Oh no. A regular rift is a bad day. A rogue rift is a "start writing your will" day. They were unpredictable.
One on the first floor could be nastier than a normal stage you need to go through to clear the tenth or eleventh. So, a rogue rift from that high up? Try imagining the danger level of the 98th-floor, maybe 99th. Not to mention the difference between the 88th-floor and 89th was already not "slightly harder."
So, between 88th to 98th, we're talking heaven-to-hell levels of difference.
Which was exactly why Kim Hang was desperate. And why it was significantly easier for him to lose his temper today. His son, his pride, his joy, his legacy, was in danger.
But again…
"I regret saying this, Lord Kim, but no matter how it looks, I agree that Eno Dianoco might have a point. It is ultimately impolite to force Mr. Fourstorms to risk himself so suddenly. I'm not saying he can't, but even I would need months of preparation for a mission like this," Giovan said.
Then he turned to Eno, narrowing his eyes like he'd just spotted something unpleasant stuck to his shoe.
"And although I said that, Dianoco, the way you want name and recognition, sticking yourself to Master Fourstorms' name, something so gloriously vain, by offering the elixir for free while mocking someone truly in need… is abhorrent."
A vein popped along Eno's jaw.
"It's better than you all, you pretentious bastards! Then tell me, what do you want in return, huh?! Lomax, you snake! You'd package your offering with pretty words and expect Fourstorms to be on your side in the future, right?!" Eno roared, hurling accusations like daggers.
"What part of kneeling down, begging to save one's son, is pretentious? Dianoco, I will allow you to call me pretentious. I've allowed people to call me that even until yesterday. But there is nothing more honest than lowering yourself to save what is truly important to you, while also begging to pay the price," Giovan said coldly, each word neatly sharpened like he'd honed them just for Eno's ego.
He turned to Asher, eyes narrowing. "Mr. Fourstorms, as much as I loathe being lumped in with these other three, just as they loathe being lumped in with me, I'll humor you all and state my offering."
Asher looked at him, calm, unblinking. "Sure."
"One favor," Giovan said.
Favor.
Sometimes, for people like them, favors were the purest, most dangerous currency. Asher accepting two favors from Lim Miao in exchange for the Ang Elixir was a perfect example.
A favor could be massive. Apocalyptically massive. Or insultingly small, like Asher's dinner invitation.
The true value of a favor could only be measured by the one receiving it. And unlike gold, land, or titles, a favor could be passed along like an heirloom, bartered like contraband, or used to drag you out of the jaws of death. Its worth could be, objectively or delusionally, more or less than anyone expected. It was that flexible.
Of course, a favor could also be shredded on the spot. Offend the giver, betray them, or even just irritate them on the wrong day, and the favor evaporated. Poof. Your lifeline gone.
But perhaps most intriguing of all, there are those to whom you grant a favor who may never call upon it. Not for the rest of their days, nor for the rest of yours.
Now, let's be honest: you could toss a favor to anyone for no reason at all, just because they amuse you. But giving Giovan Lomax a favor?
Arguably not the best decision.
That was when the man in black, the one who had sat silently since the beginning, radiating quiet menace, finally spoke.
"Master, you don't have to choose," his surprisingly young and smooth voice cut through the tension. "You saved my life once. I'm taking this opportunity to return the favor."
The Thief King produced his Ang Elixir and extended it, steady hand offering something that could spark wars.