The air thickened with tension, so dense it felt almost solid. Galen, standing several meters from Jack, blanched with fear. He alone knew the truth of what had transpired just days before—and he was desperate to keep it buried, especially from the others in the organization.

Under the watchful eyes of everyone present, including Sophia's, Jack rose. In one fluid motion, he drew his saber from his Inventory, his face unreadable, devoid of emotion. He had warned Galen once. This time, there would be no warning—only consequences.

"What do you think you're doing!?" Sophia shouted, her voice sharp with alarm as she snapped out of her shock. But Jack didn't answer.

A dull thud followed. Then came the soft, rhythmic patter of droplets hitting the floor. It was only when the pain truly struck Galen that he screamed—a shrill, agonizing sound that seemed loud enough to wake the dead.

"Y-Y-You…" Galen stammered, clutching the stump where his right arm had once been. His left hand pressed desperately against the clean wound, blood seeping between his fingers. His eyes burned with a volatile mix of terror and fury. If looks could kill, Jack would've died a dozen times over.

Jack calmly slid his saber back into his Inventory, then stood tall before the kneeling man, his gaze cold. "Next time, it won't just be an arm," he said flatly. "Remember that."

Every pair of eyes in the room turned to Jack. His friends barely reacted—especially Rachel, who likely would've done far worse if she'd been in his place. But it was Sophia, along with the guards she had brought, who looked truly shaken. Drawn by the screams, the guards had burst in moments earlier, only to freeze as they witnessed the aftermath.

Apprehend him?

The thought hung in the air like smoke. But if Jack had cut Galen's arm with such ease, what chance did they stand?

Their hesitation teetered on panic—until Sophia suddenly stepped forward, breaking the stalemate and sparing them from a choice none were willing to make.

Sophia glared at Jack, her voice a sharp hiss. "Did you really have to go that far?"

Her tone was laced with anger, but the very fact that she was attempting dialogue betrayed the depth of her shock. Jack's brutal efficiency had shattered her earlier assumptions—her entire evaluation of this group had been dead wrong.

"Far?" Jack turned his head toward her, his gaze glacial. "Do you want me to go further? Or are you ready to stop looking down on us and speak like an equal? The choice is yours."

Sophia went silent. Then, unexpectedly, she let out a laugh—dry and short. It caught everyone off guard.

With a casual wave, she signaled her guards to return to their posts. The amusement in her voice vanished, replaced by an eerie calmness.

"I admit it. I misjudged you," she said, her voice now level and quiet. She began walking toward Galen, her footsteps echoing in the tense silence. "I relied on a false report—and for that, the blame lies with me."

She stopped before Galen, who was still kneeling in stunned agony. Leaning slightly forward, she tapped his forehead twice with her index finger.

Galen's eyes widened briefly—then dulled. His expression went slack as if his mind had shut down. Without a word, he collapsed face-first to the ground.

"That won't happen again," she murmured.

Rachel, Amelia, and Wesley stared, eyes widening slightly as they watched the bizarre scene unfold. Whether Galen was alive or dead, they couldn't tell—but the unnatural stillness of his collapse only deepened the tension in the room.

Jack, Thomas, Samuel, and Alaric, though equally uncertain about what had just happened, remained composed.

Sophia's gaze locked onto Jack, her expression unreadable. "Tell me," she said coolly, "do you really think you can make demands just because you won against a weakling... and showed up here with your little entourage?"

At that, Alaric's lips twitched—but he held his tongue.

Thomas, however, had heard enough. Leaning back slightly in his seat, he spoke in an even tone. "You've already misjudged us once. Are you sure you want to turn a business discussion into a full-on confrontation? Seems to me we'd both benefit more from a peaceful conversation."

Sophia didn't even spare him a glance. To her, Jack was the only real threat—the rest, at best, were Galen's equals. And that meant they were nothing special.

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Thomas's eyes narrowed at the slight. His voice now carried a thread of irritation. "So that's it, then. It wasn't just Galen feeding you bad information. Even without him, you're still misreading the situation. Which means the real problem… is you. You can't read people."

By the time his words landed, Sophia's brows were twitching with restrained anger.

At last, Sophia turned to Thomas. "If you're stronger than Galen, I'll back off from your business," she said flatly. Then, a thin, mocking smile curved her lips. "But if you're just another weakling… I'll do as I please."

No sooner had the words left her mouth than she rushed forward, closing the distance between them in an instant. Thomas, however, merely watched her approach with an expression that bordered on amusement—like someone watching a child throw a tantrum.

Jack moved to intervene, but Thomas raised a hand to stop him. "Leave it," he said calmly.

With a flick of his wrist, Thomas drew the azure sword he had recently acquired from Nova, its blade gleaming faintly under the lights. His eyes lit up with anticipation.

"A chance to use this already? How lucky…"

Sophia was on him in a flash, her movements sharp and precise. With a low exhale, she stabbed forward, a knife flashing toward his chest.

But Thomas met her strike with a dismissive snort. In one fluid motion, he parried the attack, the force of the deflection sending the knife spinning out of Sophia's hand. Her arm jerked backward from the impact, and her eyes widened in shock.

"All that buildup… for this?" Thomas said coolly, though inwardly he was ecstatic.

This sword is amazing, he thought, barely containing his glee. I could've blocked that with my old blade—but not this effortlessly.

Thomas didn't notice the impressed looks on his friends' faces—or the stunned expression frozen on Sophia's. His focus was entirely consumed by the gleaming azure sword in his hand.

If only I had the full armor set to go with it… he mused, lost in a pleasant daydream.

Snapping back to reality, Sophia's gaze swept over the seven individuals before her. Her jaw tightened.

"This isn't over," she spat, before storming out of the room, barking orders as she recalled her guards and exited the villa without a second glance.

"Where'd she go?" Thomas asked, still admiring the sword as though it were the only thing that mattered.

Jack approached, casting a glance toward the doorway. "She's gone. For now."

His gaze dropped to the weapon in Thomas's hand, a faint note of curiosity entering his voice. "You bought that with the tournament prize money, didn't you?"

Thomas flashed a smug smile, his eyes gleaming. "Maybe."

Rachel stepped forward, flanked by Samuel and Amelia, leaving Alaric and Wesley lounging on the sofa a few meters away. The group wasn't particularly impressed by the newcomers. In their minds, Thomas's friends didn't seem like they'd be of much help.

"So… what now?" Rachel asked, folding her arms.

Jack glanced upward. His voice low. "I'm done playing slow and polite. It's just making us targets. Anyone with a shred of power thinks they can mess with us. Even that Hollis."

His eyes swept across his companions, coldly he said. "Let's take over Altura—as quickly as possible."

Hearing that Samuel gave a firm nod, while Rachel and Amelia both smiled—one with a cunning gleam in her eye, the other warm and genuine.

Meanwhile, Thomas sighed under his breath, muttering, "Looks like I'm about to get real busy."

With that, the group made their way back toward the warehouse, Alaric and Wesley trailing behind at a leisurely pace.

Elsewhere in Quarath, Nova strolled down the bustling main street, weaving through crowds and soaking in the hum of conversation from the passersby. The city was alive with noise, color, and the tantalizing scent of street food.

"I'm starving," he grumbled, pressing a hand to his stomach. His eyes scanned the rows of shops and food stalls, hunting for something satisfying.

A few minutes later, his gaze landed on a wooden signboard hanging slightly askew: "All You Can Eat – Only 5 Gold Coins."

A slow grin spread across his face.

"They better not be bluffing," he said with a chuckle, stepping inside the restaurant.

The restaurant was medium-sized, filled with sturdy wooden furniture that gave it a rustic charm. To some, it might have looked worn, even outdated—but to others, it held a cozy, nostalgic appeal. Judging by the crowd packed into the place, the latter group clearly dominated.

As Nova stepped through the entrance, a polite waitress approached him almost immediately.

"Hello, sir. We're currently full. Would you mind coming back a little later?" she asked with a courteous smile.

Nova raised an eyebrow, glancing around. 'Is it really that packed?' he thought, scanning the room. His eyes narrowed slightly as he searched for an opening—and then he spotted it: a table for two, occupied by just one person.

Smiling, he turned back to the waitress. "Oh, I'm actually here to meet my buddy."

"Your buddy?" she repeated, skeptically.

He pointed casually toward the table in question. "Yeah, over there—the one with the long black hair, sitting alone."

Following Nova's gesture, the waitress glanced over and indeed spotted a man sitting alone at a table for two. Realizing the situation, she offered a polite nod.

"I see. Then please, follow me," she said, motioning toward the table. With a small bow, she led the way, Nova trailing just a step behind.

'I bet they've turned away dozens of people already,' Nova mused, a smug smile tugging at his lips. 'And here I am, slipping right in. How refreshing.'

When they reached the table, the waitress addressed the lone diner, who was quietly enjoying his meal.

"Sir, your friend has arrived."

Before the man could respond, Nova slid smoothly into the empty seat across from him. "Sorry I'm late, man," he said with an easy grin. "Took forever to find this place. I'll cover your meal to make up for it."

The waitress, seeing their casual interaction, gave a satisfied nod and walked away, leaving the two men facing each other in silence.

"…Do I know you?" the stranger finally asked, brow raised.

Nova shook his head, still smiling. "Nope. Just needed a place to sit. I'm Nova. What's your name?"

The absurdity of the situation made the man chuckle. He set down his utensils and leaned back slightly.

"Erevan. Nice to meet you, Nova."

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