The obsidian building was silent, absorbing the sounds of the bustling capital street. As the heavy, rune-etched door swung shut behind us, a hush fell, the kind that speaks of immense power and absolute discretion. The interior was not the gaudy den of thieves I might have imagined, but a paragon of minimalist luxury. The floors were polished black marble, the walls were hung with tapestries depicting abstract, geometrical patterns, and the only light came from floating crystal fixtures that cast a cool, steady glow. Silent attendants in impeccable gray uniforms moved with an unnerving, fluid grace. This was not a place of chaotic crime; it was a place of organized, high-end corruption.
My Soul Resonance was screaming. The entire building was saturated with a low, humming aura of concealment spells, security wards, and the cold, predatory intent of the people within it.
We were led through a series of quiet hallways to a private chamber at the back. The room was soundproofed, the air still and heavy. Seated behind a large, empty desk of petrified wood was a woman. She was strikingly beautiful, with hair as silver as my own braided into an intricate coronet, and eyes the color of a winter twilight. She wore a simple but exquisitely cut gown of deep crimson. She looked like a noble, but the aura I felt from her was anything but. It was the calm, patient, and utterly lethal stillness of a viper coiled and ready to strike.
"Damien," she said, her voice a low, melodic purr. "You are punctual as always."
"Lady Vesper," Damien replied, a charming smile gracing his lips as he took a seat opposite her. "Punctuality is the courtesy of kings, and in our line of work, a vital necessity."
I remained standing behind Damien, trying to make myself as small and unnoticeable as possible.
Lady Vesper's twilight eyes flickered to me, and I felt her gaze like a physical touch. "And this is?"
"My associate, Lucian Greyfall," Damien said dismissively, but with a clear undercurrent of ownership. "His discretion has been… recently verified. He is trustworthy." The last word was a clear threat aimed at me. By bringing me here, by vouching for me, my life was now tied to my silence. I had become an accomplice.
Vesper gave me a long, analytical look, as if appraising livestock. Her intent was not hostile, but it was intensely predatory. She was cataloging my strengths and weaknesses, my value and my threat level, in a single, sweeping glance. Satisfied, she turned her attention back to Damien.
"To business, then," she said. "Your inquiry regarding the 'Heartstone.' The acquisition is proving more difficult than anticipated. The source in the southern territories has gone silent, and the Magus Guild has been cracking down on all unlicensed artifact trade since the incident in Silverport."
My blood ran cold. Heartstone. I knew that name. I had read about it in a dark, late-game arc of Crimson Destiny. It was a forbidden artifact, a crystalline parasite that, when bonded with a Weaver, could forcibly and rapidly advance their Mana Core by consuming their life force. It granted immense, unstable power at the cost of a shortened, agonizing life. It was the kind of dark magic used to create disposable, monstrous shock troops.
"Unfortunate, but not unexpected," Damien said calmly, showing no sign of disappointment. "I have a more pressing reason for my interest now. There is a student at the academy. A commoner who has displayed a rate of growth that defies conventional explanation. It is… possible he stumbled upon one."
My mind reeled. He was talking about Leonidas. He was so paranoid about the hero's natural talent that his mind had jumped to the conclusion of forbidden magic.
"If he has one, I want it," Damien continued, his voice turning to ice. "And if he does not… I want one of my own regardless. My own progress is not proceeding as quickly as I would like."
This was it. The true, terrifying scope of Damien's ambition. He wasn't just a schoolyard bully or a political schemer. He was already a patron of a shadowy underworld organization, the Crimson Syndicate, as I now understood it to be. He was actively seeking out the darkest and most forbidden forms of power, years ahead of the timeline in the original novel. He wasn't following a script; he was accelerating it, driven by his own impatience and paranoia.
"A Heartstone is a volatile and messy tool, Damien," Vesper warned, a hint of what might have been genuine caution in her voice. "The power it grants is… unwholesome."
"I am concerned with results, Vesper, not wholesomeness," Damien countered smoothly. "Keep searching. Double the price if you must. I want results."
"As you wish," she conceded. The business was concluded.
They exchanged a few more pleasantries, veiled updates on guild movements and political shifts that I struggled to follow. Finally, we stood to leave. As we turned, Lady Vesper's eyes met mine one last time.
"It was a pleasure to meet you, Lucian Greyfall," she said, her voice laced with a meaning I couldn't quite decipher. "We value talent, here. Do try to stay useful."
The carriage ride back to the academy was conducted in near-total silence. Marcus Thorne and the other noble were blissfully unaware, chattering about the fine clothes they had seen. But the space between Damien and me was thick with unspoken threats and new, dangerous knowledge. He had deliberately shown me a piece of his hidden empire. He had made me a part of his conspiracy. The chain around my neck was no longer just his favor, but his secrets.
We arrived back at the academy late into the night. As I stepped out of the carriage, Damien paused at the door, his face cast in the pale moonlight.
"A most productive day, wouldn't you agree, Lucian?" he said, his smile thin and cold. "You are proving to be quite useful."
The words were meant as a compliment, but they sounded like a closing cell door. I walked back to my dorm, the opulent towers of the academy seeming more like a prison than ever. My world had just expanded in the most terrifying way possible. My enemy was not just a rival student; he was a budding arch-villain, a criminal mastermind in the making, and I was now his unwilling confidant.
My nightly training was no longer about preparing for a schoolyard conflict. I was preparing for a war. And I was hopelessly, terrifyingly behind schedule.