"Fuck this!" said Theodore as he walked through the hall.
The opulence barely registered this time.
Guards stood at attention along the walls and outside every doorway, all dressed in red and black. His colours. A personal choice. Something inspired by fire. Dominance. Control. Inevitability. The entire compound reflected that idea. The main building was built like a statement rather than a home. Wide supporting pillars. Marble floors polished to a mirror finish. Long balconies overlooking the central hall. Tall windows framed with dark hardwood that let in just enough light to make the place feel expensive rather than welcoming.
A man of style, people called him.
He enjoyed the finer things in life, and why wouldn't he? Publicly he was a respected CEO, a businessman who sold household appliances powered by refined Uratsu technology. Clean energy systems. Smart domestic units. Things people trusted. Things people depended on.
Privately, he bought problems and had them erased.
His wealth rivalled that of a lower noble house now. Generations of careful expansion, strategic partnerships, and just enough ruthlessness to stay ahead. His family had been in business long before he was born, and Theodore had simply taken it further. Sharper. Colder. Faster.
But right now none of it mattered.
Because the man who should have been dead was not.
The encrypted call still echoed in his head.
Target confirmed alive. Multiple casualties. Requesting further instructions.
Theodore stopped in the middle of the hall. The sound of his shoes against marble faded, leaving only silence and the distant hum of the compound's power systems. His jaw tightened.
Alive.
That was impossible. He had paid enough to make sure it was not.
Whoever that knight was, he was not normal. No ordinary Association member walked away from something like that. Not with that kind of firepower. Not with that level of preparation.
Unless someone had underestimated him.
Or someone had lied.
Theodore exhaled slowly, forcing the anger down before it turned into panic. Panic made mistakes, and he had survived this long by never making them twice.
"Find him," he muttered under his breath as he turned toward his office. "If he's alive, then I finish it properly this time."
Behind him, the guards did not move. But the atmosphere in the hall changed all the same. Like the entire building understood that someone, somewhere, had just signed their own death warrant.
He entered the room without knocking.
Soft music played in the background. Warm lighting. Expensive furniture placed carefully so nothing felt crowded. Several escorts were already waiting, dressed to match the mood of the room, quiet and attentive. Normally that would have been enough to calm him down. Normally this room meant control. Comfort. A way to push the rest of the world outside the door for a few hours.
Tonight it did nothing.
Because of Nathaniel Alderman.
Because of what that knight had done.
To him it was almost insulting. One man had managed to disable his most reliable asset in a single night. Leroy had never failed him before. Leroy Herold had been dependable in the only way that mattered. Obedient. Efficient. Completely detached from consequence. The man had a sick fascination with fire and Theodore had learned to use that instead of trying to suppress it.
Simple jobs became terrifying when Leroy handled them.
This one should have been no different. A whistle-blower had to be silenced. Nothing complicated. Nothing dramatic. Just a warning that would make the rest of them fall back in line. A baptism of fire that left no witnesses brave enough to talk afterward.
Instead Leroy had lost control.
He always pushed too far when he got excited. Burned half the neighbourhood. Turned a quiet job into a disaster big enough for the police to panic. Firefighters. Patrol units. Containment teams. And then, as if the universe itself had decided to interfere, a squad knight appeared on scene at exactly the wrong moment.
Nathaniel Alderman.
Theodore still remembered the report.
One man stepping through smoke like it meant nothing. Moving straight toward Leroy as if he already knew where he was. No hesitation. No fear. Just calm. Efficient violence. By the time the flames died down, Leroy's arms were gone and the fire had been snuffed out like it had never belonged to him in the first place.
Now Leroy sat in a hospital bed, silent. Breathing. Alive. But empty.
Catatonic. Unresponsive. Staring at nothing.
Theodore had done everything he could. Private doctors. Illegal specialists. Top-tier prosthetics built to military standards. New arms that should have been better than the ones he lost. None of it mattered. Leroy never reacted. Never spoke. Never even looked at him.
For the first time in years, Theodore felt something close to helplessness.
And that was what he hated most about Nathaniel Alderman.
Not the interference.
Not the money he had lost.
The fact that one man had turned Leroy from a weapon into something useless without even trying.
Theodore slowly loosened his tie and looked at the escorts waiting for him. One of them stepped forward carefully, unsure whether to speak or stay silent.
He waved her off.
"Leave," he said quietly. "All of you."
None of them argued.
When the door closed behind them, the room felt colder than it should have. Theodore stood there for a long moment, staring at the empty space where they had been, his mind already moving somewhere else entirely.
If Nathaniel Alderman had taken his best weapon away from him, then the only solution was simple.
Remove the problem at the source.
He had the money to do it. Enough to erase a man ten times over.
Yet something did not sit right with him as he walked into his study.
This was where he had briefed Magnum and Polaris. The room was sealed better than most military safehouses. Reinforced door. Soundproof walls. Internal locks that could not be overridden from the outside. It was the one place in the entire compound where Theodore never felt watched.
The lights were already on when he stepped in.
A figure stood near the far side of the room.
Polaris.
The uniform was the same. The stance was the same. Calm. Still. Professional. But something was wrong the moment he looked at her properly. She looked healthier than the last time he had seen her. Too healthy. The exhaustion she always carried was gone. The pale skin was no longer pale.
Her hair was blood red.
Not dyed. Not tinted. It looked natural, like it had always been that way.
Her eyes were worse.
White. Not cloudy. Not blind. Pure brilliant white that seemed to reflect the light in the room instead of absorbing it.
Theodore stopped walking.
The air felt heavy. Like the room itself had thickened. The faint glow spreading across the walls was not coming from the lights. It was coming from her. From the floor. From the space between them. Everything felt held in place. Still. Silent. Locked tighter than any system he had ever installed.
The door behind him was closed.
Sealed.
And then he saw something that made his stomach tighten.
Someone was already sitting behind his desk.
Nathaniel Alderman.
The man looked completely relaxed, leaning back in Theodore's chair like it belonged to him. A glass of whiskey rested in his hand. He spun it slowly on the coaster as if he had been waiting there for hours. The faint light in the room caught his eyes, and Theodore realized something was wrong there too.
His irises were glowing.
Not bright. Not obvious. Just a dim, quiet glow that did not belong to any normal human being.
He was dressed like nothing about this was unusual. Dark polo. Beige slacks. Clean dress shoes. Calm posture. No tension in his shoulders. No sign of injury. No sign that he had just walked into the private office of the man who had tried to have him killed.
Theodore did not speak.
For the first time in years, he did not know what to say.
Nathaniel took a slow sip of the whiskey, set the glass back down, and looked at him like he had been expected.
"You really should improve your security," he said calmly. "It took less time than I thought."
The red glow in the room deepened slightly.
And for the first time, Theodore understood something that money could not fix.
He was not in control of this room anymore.
Theodore did not move.
Not forward. Not back. Even breathing felt like the wrong decision. The room was too quiet. Too still. The glow pressed against his eyes like something alive.
Nathaniel watched him for a few seconds without speaking. The glass rested loosely in his hand, the ice inside barely shifting as he tilted it once and set it down again.
"You sent a lot of people," he said.
His voice was calm. Not angry. Not accusing. Just factual, like he was commenting on a number in a report.
Theodore forced his jaw to tighten instead of letting it tremble. "You broke into my property," he replied. "You killed my contractors and now you think you can sit in my chair and talk like we are equals."
Nathaniel did not react to the tone. He only leaned back slightly, the faint glow in his eyes growing just enough to be noticeable in the dim light.
"I did not come here to talk about equality."
That answer settled into the room heavier than a threat would have.
Theodore's gaze shifted toward Polaris again. She had not moved once. Not a single muscle. Even her breathing was too steady. Too controlled. Whatever had happened to her, it was not natural. And the red light filling the room felt connected to her rather than to Nathaniel.
"What did you do to her?" Theodore asked.
Nathaniel followed his gaze for a second, then looked back at him. "Nothing permanent," he said. "She just saw something she was not supposed to see. Most people break when that happens. She did not. That is why she is still standing."
Theodore swallowed without meaning to.
He had seen men panic. Beg. Collapse. This was different. The fear that settled in his chest felt quiet and heavy instead of sharp. Like his mind was trying to understand something it was not built to understand.
Nathaniel rested both arms on the desk now, fingers loosely interlocked. Calm. Controlled. Patient.
"You burned a nursing home," he said.
Theodore's expression hardened immediately. "Your people exaggerate everything. It was a controlled job that went wrong."
Nathaniel did not blink. "There were patients inside who could not move."
Silence followed that. Thick. Suffocating.
Theodore felt irritation rising again because anger was easier than fear. "That is not your concern," he snapped. "You are a squad knight. You deal with threats to the city, not business disputes. If one of my employees lost control, that is unfortunate. It has nothing to do with you personally."
Nathaniel's fingers tightened slightly against each other.
"It has everything to do with me," he said quietly.
The glow in his eyes deepened again, just for a moment. Theodore suddenly understood why the reports sounded exaggerated. It was not strength alone. It was presence. Standing in front of him felt like standing too close to a fire that had not decided whether it wanted to burn you yet.
"You ruined my brother," Theodore said before he could stop himself. The words came out sharper than he intended. "He cannot even speak anymore. You think that makes you a hero."
Nathaniel looked at him for a long moment. Not angry. Not defensive. Just studying him the way someone studies a problem they already solved.
"No," he said. "I think it makes him alive."
Theodore felt something inside his chest twist.
Nathaniel picked up the glass again and rolled it slowly between his fingers. "You paid him to burn people who could not defend themselves. You gave him permission to become worse every time he succeeded. The only difference now is that he cannot do it again."
The room felt colder despite the red glow.
"And you are next," Nathaniel added, still calm, still quiet. "Not dead. Not yet. But everything you built that lets you do this without consequences is going to disappear."
Theodore forced a smile even though his throat felt dry. "You think you can destroy a company this size by yourself."
Nathaniel set the glass down again, the faint sound of it touching the coaster echoing louder than it should have.
"I already started," he said.
Polaris finally moved.
Just a single step forward. The red light in the room sharpened, and the air tightened like something invisible had locked into place around Theodore's body.
And for the first time since he built this office, Theodore understood something with complete clarity.
This was not a visit.
This was a judgement.
Theodore laughed.
It came out sharper than he intended, but he did not stop it.
"You walked into my office and you think you can lecture me," he said, wiping the thin line of blood from his cheek with his thumb. "You sound like a judge, not a knight. You kill things in biomes and suddenly you think you understand how the real world works."
Nathaniel did not interrupt him.
That only made it worse.
"You talk about trafficking like I am the one moving people personally," Theodore continued. "You talk about black market weapons like I am the one selling them on the street. I run a corporation. I sign contracts. If people misuse what they buy from me, that is not my responsibility."
Silence again.
Theodore felt the pressure in the room rising, like the air itself was waiting for him to finish speaking before it reacted.
Nathaniel leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the desk.
"I do understand how the real world works," he said quietly. "That is why I am not here to arrest you."
That made Theodore pause.
Nathaniel's eyes remained fixed on him, calm and steady.
"I am here because the law moves too slowly," he continued. "And because people like you build layers between yourselves and the consequences. Companies. Middlemen. Shell accounts. Contractors. You never touch anything directly, so you convince yourself that you are clean."
Theodore opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out.
Nathaniel's voice stayed calm, almost gentle.
"You paid your brother to burn people because fear was cheaper than silence agreements. You paid mercenaries because you did not want the Association tracing anything back to you. You sold modified units to people who were never meant to own that level of power. And you thought none of it would reach you because you stayed behind a desk."
The red glow in the room dimmed slightly, like it was breathing.
"I am not here to destroy you completely," Nathaniel added. "If I wanted that, I would not be talking."
Theodore stared at him, trying to figure out whether that was a lie or a warning.
"What do you want," he asked finally.
Nathaniel did not answer immediately. Instead he reached for the glass again, spinning it slowly between his fingers before setting it down untouched.
"I want you to stop," he said. "Everything that involves trafficking ends tonight. The weapon modifications end tonight. Your connection to the Black Order ends tonight. And you are going to transfer every file in that room behind me to the Association database."
Theodore's jaw tightened. "And if I say no."
Nathaniel finally smiled.
It was not a friendly smile. It was calm. Certain. Like someone who already knew the outcome of the conversation.
"Then I remove the parts of your life that make saying no possible," he said. "The money. The company. The people who protect you. One by one. I do not need to kill you to ruin you, Theo. I just need to make sure you cannot hurt anyone again."
Theodore felt something cold settle in his chest.
Because the worst part was not the threat.
It was the certainty in Nathaniel's voice.
Theodore's answer came out through clenched teeth.
"No."
It was stubborn. Desperate. Final.
He had built too much to surrender it because one knight walked into his office and made demands. Decades of work. Deals. Quiet threats. Carefully cultivated power. He would not watch it collapse because someone decided to play executioner.
And in truth, that refusal was exactly what Nathaniel had been waiting for.
Nathaniel's eyes pulsed once in the dim light.
Theodore barely had time to register the movement before the world lurched violently. Something invisible wrapped around him and dragged him forward. His feet left the floor as Nathaniel stood from the chair in a single smooth motion.
A hand closed around his throat.
Theodore felt himself lifted effortlessly, he was infront of Nathaniel kneeling on his own desk as if he weighed nothing at all. He felt himself get smacked into a wall, hard, before he was held suspended in the air.
Nathaniel studied him for a brief moment.
Blond hair.
Natural red eyes, the same shade Leroy had carried when the fire took him.
Theodore's lips pulled back in a grimace as Nathaniel's grip tightened slightly.
Then Nathaniel felt it.
Uratsu.
A sudden violent concentration gathering in Theodore's throat.
Nathaniel's eyes narrowed.
Theodore opened his mouth and released it.
A beam of super condensed plasma erupted from his throat, the blast roaring through the study like a contained star being unleashed. His eyes burned bright red as the energy poured out of him, instantly heating the room as the beam engulfed Nathaniel's upper body.
The light was blinding.
Wood cracked. Air warped. Heat rippled across the walls.
For a moment the entire study was nothing but white fire.
Then the flash faded.
Theodore's breathing was ragged as the last of the plasma dissipated. Smoke hung in the air where Nathaniel had been standing.
And then the smoke parted.
Nathaniel was still there.
A layer of bio armour had formed across his face and neck, dark and organic, grown directly from his skin. The arm holding Theodore had partially manifested into something denser and heavier, the surface still glowing red hot from the plasma that had struck it.
The heat slowly bled away as the energy dispersed.
Nathaniel had not moved.
He looked completely unharmed.
Theodore stared in disbelief, his lungs struggling for air in Nathaniel's grip. Something else caught his attention then. Something that made his confusion deepen.
Nathaniel's eyes were red.
Not the faint glow from earlier. Not the dim shimmer of controlled Uratsu.
Bright crimson.
In his free hand, Nathaniel held a small Ura crystal. The surface cracked and dimmed as its stored energy was suddenly drained and expended.
The crystal turned to motes of light in his palm like charcoal sparks.
Nathaniel's gaze settled back on Theodore as the last fragments of light faded from the room.
His voice was calm.
"You should not have done that."
Theodore felt the world collapse inward.
The pain came first.
Not the sharp kind that faded after a few seconds. This was deeper. Something cold and violent forcing its way through his body, spreading from his throat to his chest and then upward into his head. His vision snapped black for a moment, then flared crimson.
He tried to speak but nothing came out.
It felt like the energy was alive. Like it was searching for something inside him. Every nerve in his body reacted at once. His heart hammered against his ribs and his hands twitched uselessly in the air.
Nathaniel did not move.
His eyes were focused, calm, almost clinical as the crimson energy spread through Theodore's system. It hurt badly, far worse than the plasma blast had. And beneath the pain Theodore could feel something else. Restraint. The energy was holding back. It could have done more. Much more. Instead it pressed carefully into his mind, probing, searching, settling.
Theodore's eyes glowed crimson.
Then white.
For a brief moment everything inside his head felt silent.
Nathaniel let go.
Theodore's body dropped forward but Nathaniel caught him before he hit the floor. He guided him back into the office chair slowly, almost gently, positioning him in a way that looked natural. A man who had drunk too much. A man who had simply passed out at his desk after a long day.
Nothing dramatic. Nothing suspicious.
Nathaniel reached into his inventory and pulled out a compact data pack. He handed it to Valarie without looking away from Theodore.
She stepped forward, took it, and immediately connected it to the hidden system behind the bookshelf. The transfer finished in seconds. Clean. Quiet. Everything copied. Everything secured.
Nathaniel adjusted Theodore's posture slightly, turning the chair just enough to make the scene believable. A loosened tie. A half empty glass. Files left open on the desk like he had been working until exhaustion caught up with him.
Perfect.
Without another word, Nathaniel stepped toward the balcony. Valarie followed silently. The glass door opened without a sound and the cold night air slipped into the room.
They moved over the edge together.
Nathaniel did not fall. He did not jump.
He simply pushed outward with Authority, using it the way someone else might use their hands. A quiet form of tactile telekinesis that carried both of them into the night without a single sound. The faint traces of Uratsu around their bodies faded as he forced the energy to disperse, blending it into the natural ambient flow in the air until nothing about their presence could be tracked.
The study remained silent behind them.
Hours later, Theodore woke up in a cold sweat.
His breathing was uneven as he stared at the ceiling for several seconds, trying to understand what had woken him. His head throbbed and his throat felt dry like he had been screaming in his sleep.
He looked down at his hands.
They felt strange. Not weak. Not injured. Just unfamiliar for a moment, like they belonged to someone else.
The memory came back in fragments. Nathaniel. The red light. The pain. The voice.
Theodore rubbed his temples hard and forced himself to stand. He reached for his phone almost immediately and began making calls. His voice sounded normal. Controlled. Calm.
Business as usual.
Except it was not.
He told his contacts to shut down certain operations immediately. The trafficking model was finished. Too risky. Too messy. They would transition to cleaner ventures. Legal fronts that did not attract attention. He spoke like it had always been the plan.
When the last call ended, Theodore sat back in his chair again and stared at the dark screen in his hand.
Something still felt off.
Like a decision had already been made before he woke up.