Ashan returned to the formation without haste, yet without the slightest trace of fatigue in his stride, as though the duel he had just fought had been nothing more than a passing exercise rather than the spectacle that had left half the spectators breathless and the other half questioning the integrity of the ranking system itself.
'That went longer than I expected,' he reflected calmly, rolling his shoulder once as if testing for strain and finding none.
'My instincts kicked in faster than planned. I adjusted too seriously midway. I should've let my guard down a bit… at least enough to keep suspicion lower.'
His team members had already turned toward him, their earlier composure shattered.
"Woah… man," one of them breathed out, eyes still wide as if replaying the duel in his mind. "That was an awesome duel. Are you really a B-ranker?"
Another scratched the back of his head awkwardly, forcing out a laugh that did nothing to hide the tremor in his voice.
"He has a point. Even though I'm a B-rank too, doing that much is impossible for me. She played with me like a toy in the sparring round. But you… you actually pushed her."
"What is your secret?" a third asked, leaning closer, lowering his voice as though expecting conspiracy.
"Is someone training you in secret? Some hidden master? Or are you hiding your real rank?"
Ashan smiled, not dismissively, but with that careful warmth he used when he wanted to avoid questions without alienating people. He adjusted his glove slowly, giving himself a moment.
"There's no secret," he replied lightly. "I just don't like losing."
They groaned at that.
"That's not an answer!"
He chuckled softly but offered nothing more, deliberately steering the conversation away with a casual question about formation timing and mana consumption during the raid. It worked; they grumbled, but they let it drop.
A sudden impact landed on his shoulder from behind; not aggressive, but firm.
Ashan turned smoothly.
Zevi stood there with a wide grin stretched across his face, eyes bright with unfiltered enthusiasm.
"Hey big guy. Ashan, right?" Zevi said, as though confirming something obvious but enjoying the theatrics.
"Let's become buddies. Yes? Aside from ranks and all that nonsense, I see that we're equally talented in physical combat. So why don't we spar frequently? Push each other. In that way we'll grow fast. What do you say?"
Ashan blinked once.
'That came out of nowhere,' he thought, studying Zevi's posture, his breathing, the micro-tension in his forearms. There was no hidden agenda there, just straightforward eagerness.
'This guy is seriously weird. He's the second person to ask to be my friend so bluntly. But he doesn't seem malicious. And since he's part of my team, maintaining good ties is practical.'
He nodded.
"I like that idea. Let's help each other. In the end, all of our goals are to become stronger."
Zevi's grin widened into a smirk of approval. He slapped Ashan's shoulder again, slightly harder this time.
"You're interesting," Zevi said. "I like the way you think. Then let's get along."
…
Night settled over the Honor Association building like a heavy cloak, suffocating the city's noise beneath layers of reinforced glass and silent corridors.
Inside his office on the highest floor, Garrick sat alone beneath a single warm lamp, flipping through daily reports with mechanical precision. The ticking clock on the wall punctuated the silence, each second deliberate, controlled, predictable.
He wore thin spectacles that rested low on his nose, sleeves of his shirt folded neatly to his elbows. His expression carried a subtle exhaustion, the kind that came from reading too many bureaucratic documents rather than from combat.
No one disturbed him at night. It was understood within the Association that this was his time for review and contemplation.
A faint noise disturbed the stillness.
Not a knock.
Not footsteps.
Something subtler. A distortion.
Garrick's eyes shifted toward the door instantly, sharp and alert despite his relaxed posture.
"Who is it?" he asked evenly. "Come inside."
Silence answered him.
The next second, the air near the door rippled unnaturally, and a robed figure phased through the solid wood as though it were mist, materializing directly in front of his desk.
The figure wore a mask, face completely obscured.
Garrick's expression hardened, seriousness replacing boredom in an instant. But instead of alarm, a slow smirk tugged at his lips.
"Well now," he said calmly, removing his glasses and setting them aside.
"What a surprise. Isn't this the masked one? The same person who created chaos during the raid and challenged the Sword Saint?"
Behind the mask, Ashan let out an arrogant laugh, low and deliberate.
"So you were watching," he replied. "Yes. I'm the person you saw. This is my first time seeing you personally."
"Hoho… of course," Garrick responded smoothly. "This is my first time as well. I don't know why you came here, but I'm curious how you managed it. There are CCTV systems, guards, magical sensors, and layered detection barriers."
"It wasn't that hard," Ashan sneered lightly. "I saw you stay on the highest floor. So I came from above."
Garrick's brow lifted slightly. The ceiling above them was reinforced alloy and warded stone.
"Is that so?" he asked. "Then tell me.. why visit me? I don't believe you came with good intentions."
Ashan raised both hands slowly, palms up in mock surrender.
"Oh my. Did you think I came to assassinate or threaten you? Then you are totally wrong."
"Then enlighten me," Garrick replied evenly. "What is your purpose?"
Ashan's tone shifted subtly; not playful, but controlled.
"I came to ask for help."
Garrick laughed aloud, the sound echoing through the room.
"How amusing," he said. "Why should I help you? I don't know who you are. You claim to side with humanity, yet you hide behind a mask and break into my office. Even if you cleared that dungeon, that alone proves nothing."
"That's fair," Ashan admitted calmly. "Trust isn't built instantly. But I'm not your enemy. And if I were, tonight wouldn't be a conversation."
That made Garrick's eyes narrow.
"Is that a threat?"
"No," Ashan replied softly. "It's a statement."
The weight of it lingered.
Garrick leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping the armrest rhythmically.
"Then show me something real," he said quietly. "Words are cheap. Anyone can claim to be humanity's ally. Prove your worth."
Ashan tilted his head slightly, as if amused by the challenge.
"You want proof? What kind?"
"The kind," Garrick answered, gaze steady, "that shows you aren't an unpredictable wildcard who might burn everything down one day."
Ashan clicked his tongue.
"Unpredictable? No. I'm very predictable. I only target monsters, criminals, and arrogant idiots."
Garrick's lips curved faintly. "Which category do I fall into?"
"That depends," Ashan replied calmly. "If you refuse to listen, you might slip into the third."
For a fraction of a second, the atmosphere thickened; not with mana, but with understanding. This wasn't empty bravado. Garrick sensed no hesitation in him.
Ashan stepped closer and placed his hands on the desk.
"I didn't come to assert dominance," he said. "If I wanted that, the building would have been on high alert within seconds. I came because you're rumored to be patient… and rational."
Garrick's eyes flicked to the scroll, then back to the masked figure.
"Alright," he said slowly. "Let's hear what you want."
Ashan nodded and gestured toward the floor.
With a controlled wave of mana, several dark metallic fragments materialized, clinking heavily as they settled.
"I want weapons forged from this."
Garrick looked up at the ceiling and laughed deeply.
"Back then," he said between chuckles, "you declared boldly that you would forge weapons yourself. And now you stand here asking me to do it. That's quite amusing."
Ashan waved dismissively.
"You misunderstood. I never said I would personally hammer them. I said they would be forged. The reason I'm bringing it to you is simple.. if I hand this to anyone else, it would cause unnecessary trouble."
Garrick crossed his arms.
"I see. But why should I help? What do I gain? Surely you're not expecting me to do it for free."
"Of course not," Ashan replied smoothly. "I intend to pay."
"With money?" Garrick asked skeptically. "Gravium isn't ordinary metal. Forging it requires rare techniques and specialized enchantment. The cost would be astronomical. Do you have that kind of wealth?"
A slow smirk formed beneath the mask.
"Who said anything about money?" Ashan asked quietly. "I'm offering something far more valuable."