Garrick leaned back slightly in his chair, fingers steepled before his mouth, the lines at the corners of his eyes tightening as he studied the young man across from him.
"Something I can't refuse?" he repeated slowly, voice measured, neither amused nor offended; just intrigued. "That's an interesting way to open negotiations. What exactly are you offering?"
Ashan did not answer immediately. He simply reached forward and placed his right palm flat against the polished wooden table that separated them. The sound was soft, deliberate.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then he lifted his hand.
A yellow marble lay there.
It wasn't large, barely the size of a fingernail. A faint golden glow pulsed under its smooth surface, as though something alive slept inside.
Ashan leaned back into a nearby chair, crossing one leg over the other with casual ease, as if he had just placed a common trinket on the table instead of something that radiated compressed mana.
"I'm giving you a mana-boosting marble," he said lightly. "What do you think?"
For a heartbeat, Garrick didn't move.
Then his composure cracked.
His eyes widened. Not theatrically, but in genuine shock. The steady rhythm of his breathing faltered, and his fingers lowered from his face as if pulled down by invisible strings.
"…Is this," he said slowly, voice dipping lower, "one of the boosting piles that were reported stolen during the kidnapping incident?"
Ashan tilted his head, an almost offended look crossing his face.
"Stolen?" he echoed. "Why is everyone so obsessed with that word? I happened to find them first. I took them before anyone else could. That makes them mine."
The lack of guilt in his tone was almost insulting.
Garrick ignored the semantics and carefully picked up the marble. The moment it touched his skin, he felt it; a dense, compact reserve of mana, far purer than what most awakeners could ever accumulate in years.
"This is indeed rare," he murmured, turning it slowly between his fingers.
"Extremely rare. But rarity alone doesn't determine value. What exactly does it do?"
Ashan's lips curved faintly.
"When I found the original pile, I realized something interesting," he began. "They hadn't absorbed blood yet. I wiped out the kidnappers before they could complete whatever ritual they were attempting. So these were… untouched."
He leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing with quiet focus.
"In their base state, they can raise someone below D-rank into a D-ranker."
Garrick's brows furrowed.
"Hmm. If it truly hasn't absorbed any human blood…" He paused, calculating. "Then I can accept this as payment. It's not an overwhelming treasure, but it's respectable compensation."
Ashan shifted in his chair, resting his ankle on his knee.
"Who said this one hasn't absorbed blood?" he said lazily. "I supplied blood to it. Increased its capacity."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
Garrick's head snapped up. His grip on the marble tightened. Veins surfaced faintly at his temple.
He slowly placed the marble back onto the table as though it had become contaminated.
"Are you telling me," he said, each word carefully restrained, "that you slaughtered people and used their blood to enhance this?"
His chair scraped against the floor as he stood.
"I don't care if they were criminals. I don't care what justification you think you have. That crosses a line. I refuse this deal."
Ashan raised both hands slightly.
"Whoa. Hold on. Did I ever say I killed people for it?"
Garrick let out a sharp breath and snatched the marble, throwing it toward Ashan. The motion was fueled by anger, not fear.
Ashan caught it effortlessly, not even looking at it as it landed in his palm.
"Do you think I'm a fool?" Garrick snapped. "The most efficient and practical method to amplify one of these is human blood. Large quantities of it."
Ashan examined the marble between his fingers, expression unreadable.
"So you know," he murmured. "Good. Then you'll understand."
He lifted his gaze.
"I never said I killed people for it. But I did use blood. Now think carefully. Whose blood do you believe it was?"
Garrick's eyes narrowed to slits.
"…Your own?" he said skeptically. "That's absurd. It would require an enormous volume. A single man couldn't supply that much without dying."
Ashan rose from his chair.
He walked toward Garrick slowly, each step measured, controlled; not threatening, but not harmless either.
"You're right," Ashan replied calmly. "A normal man couldn't."
He stopped just an arm's length away.
"But I'm not a normal man."
His voice dropped; not louder, but heavier.
"I possess a regenerative ability that replenishes blood faster than most healing magic can mend flesh. Every drop used on this marble was mine. Over time. Carefully controlled."
Silence followed.
Garrick studied him, searching for deception.
All he found was steady confidence.
"…If that's true," Garrick said at last, "then what is its current effect?"
Without answering verbally, Ashan raised the marble to eye level. The golden light within it pulsed once.
"According to my analysis," Ashan said quietly, "this can elevate any low-level awakener directly to S-rank."
The words didn't echo, but they struck.
Garrick's mind stalled.
An S-rank.
Not years of training. Not decades of sacrifice. A single object.
His throat went dry.
"You're saying," he whispered, "that this marble contains the birth of an S-ranker?"
Ashan nodded casually.
"Yes."
Garrick let out a disbelieving laugh.
"And you're offering that as payment for forging weapons?'
"You are crazy"
Ashan began tossing the marble into the air like a coin, catching it each time without looking.
"If I used this strategically," he said, "I could buy influence, power, territory. Nations would kneel. Guilds would tear each other apart."
The marble spun once more before landing in his palm.
"But selling it for wealth? That would be the real insanity. This kind of item destabilizes everything. If word spreads, your colleagues will abandon reason just to possess it."
Garrick's jaw tightened.
"Even knowing that… you're still handing it to me?"
Ashan's expression shifted; not into humor, but something sharper.
"Yes. But not merely for weapons."
He stepped forward and placed the marble back onto the table between them.
"This is a test."
"A test?" Garrick's voice hardened. "You barge into my Association like it's your backyard. And now you speak of testing me?"
Ashan returned to his chair and sat down again, crossing his arms.
"That was the purpose of my visit," he said plainly. "To determine whether you're worth keeping as an ally."
Garrick stared at him in disbelief.
Then a thought struck him.
"If this marble is so powerful," Garrick asked slowly, "why don't you use it on yourself?"
The air froze.
Ashan tilted his head back slightly, staring at the ceiling.
Then he laughed.
Not loudly.
But darkly.
Black, cursed markings began to crawl across his skin like ink seeping through veins.
And then,
The pressure came.
Mana.
Cursed energy.
It erupted from him like a collapsing dam.
The floor beneath them cracked instantly. Windows shattered outward as if struck by a shockwave. The air itself seemed to compress and distort under the overwhelming density of power.
Garrick's instincts screamed.
He leapt backward on reflex, landing near the far wall.
His breathing grew uneven.
What he felt was not merely S-rank.
It was something beyond classification.
The sheer quantity of energy pouring from Ashan's body was suffocating, monstrous, like standing before a natural disaster given human form.
Throughout the building, alarms blared. Awakener signatures trembled. Some fled. Others rushed toward Garrick's office in panic.
The landline on the desk began ringing violently.
And just as abruptly,
It stopped.
Ashan's presence vanished as if erased from existence.
The room returned to silence, broken only by distant footsteps and sirens.
Ashan looked at Garrick, who stood frozen in place.
"What are you doing?" Ashan asked casually. "Answer the phone. Stop anyone from coming up here. If they interfere, I'll be annoyed."
Garrick clenched his teeth and grabbed the receiver.
"Sorin," he said firmly when the voice answered, "stand down. Do not approach my office. Stop everyone else as well. That's an order."
After hanging up, he looked at Ashan with a mixture of fury and disbelief.
"That," Garrick said hoarsely, "was your answer?"
Ashan gave a faint shrug.
"You asked why I don't use it myself."
Garrick pinched the bridge of his nose.
"You insane lunatic…"
"Agreement," Ashan interrupted calmly. "Yes or no?"
Garrick looked at the marble.
Then at the cracked floor.
"…Yes," he exhaled. "I'll take the deal."
Ashan clapped once.
"Excellent."
He placed several documents onto the damaged table.
"Everything I want is detailed there. Timeline?"
"One week," Garrick said automatically, scanning the designs. "Your weapons will be ready."
Ashan rose.
"I assume this covers the damage I caused."
Garrick ignored him as his eyes moved across the blueprints.
Then he froze.
One specific design made his breath hitch.
He slowly lifted the page.
"What… is this?" he asked quietly. "Is this also a weapon?"
Under Ashan's mask, a smirk formed.
"Not primarily," he replied. "But I intend to use it as one."
Garrick's jaw dropped slightly as realization dawned.
"…Don't tell me," he whispered. "You're planning to use this against Silas."
Ashan laughed again, this time filled with unmistakable mockery and absolute certainty.
The sound echoed through the cracked room.
"You braindead lunatic," Garrick muttered under his breath.
But deep down, He wasn't sure whether that accusation applied to Ashan.
Or to himself for agreeing.