"I understand the Ward family's strength. That part doesn't concern me," Rowan Mercer said evenly.
"What I want to know is this. If I remove most of their empowered fighters, can you make sure the Ward family collapses completely? No recovery. No retaliation."
He rose slowly from his seat.
The pressure in the room changed.
It wasn't aggression. It was presence.
Iron Front's chairman felt it immediately. His pupils contracted as if a mountain had dropped onto his shoulders. Breathing became difficult. Even the flow of power within his body slowed, thick and unresponsive.
For a split second, a terrifying thought crossed his mind.
If Rowan wanted me dead, I wouldn't survive the thought.
Sweat gathered along his brow.
"If that were truly the case," the chairman said carefully, choosing each word with precision, "then the Ward family would be finished."
The pressure vanished.
Rowan turned and walked toward the door.
"Good," he said. "Then when the Ward family falls, that's the day I formally join Iron Front. Prepare yourselves. If things move quickly, you won't be waiting more than a week."
The door closed behind him.
The chairman's knees buckled.
"Dad!" Evan Clarke and his sister rushed forward, catching him before he hit the floor.
"You're fine," the chairman said quickly, straightening himself. "I'm fine. Better than fine."
He inhaled deeply, forcing calm back into his voice, then began issuing orders with sharp clarity.
"Contact your eldest brother. Have him fly to London immediately and speak with every wizarding contact we have. I want everything on Rowan Mercer. Everything. No detail is too small."
He turned to Evan.
"Tell your second brother to ready Protocol One. No delays. No questions. He waits for my signal."
Then, more quietly, "From this point on, this tournament doesn't matter. Our reputation doesn't matter. You stay with Rowan. Whatever he asks for, you make it happen. If anything feels off, you report to me immediately."
Neither Evan nor his sister had felt the pressure Rowan released. They didn't understand the urgency. But they trusted their father enough not to question it.
"Yes," they said in unison.
When they left, the chairman finally sat down, rubbing his temples.
"Rowan Mercer…" he murmured. "If you really deliver a gift that large, giving you half of Iron Front wouldn't be unreasonable."
Rowan hadn't gone far when a familiar voice called out.
"Rowan! Rowan!"
Aureo came barreling down the path, still chewing on a chicken leg, eyes shining.
"I heard everything," he said between bites. "Ben Ward got flattened. You even stared down the Ward patriarch. From today on, you're my hero."
Rowan waved it off with a smile. "It wasn't that dramatic. The Mountain Master was there."
"Still insane," Aureo said enthusiastically. "We're doing a bonfire tonight. Mostly people our age. You coming?"
Rowan paused briefly. "We'll see."
Tonight, he had other plans.
Based on what he'd taken from Ben's memories, this world was simpler than he'd initially feared. No hidden pantheon. No higher realm silently pulling strings. And yet, the so-called Eight Great Techniques intrigued him more than ever.
There was only one person who could confirm the truth.
The Mountain Master.
If anyone knew whether ascension was myth or reality, it would be him.
Night fell.
Moonlight washed over the mountain.
Back in the dormitory, Marcus Hale glanced at the empty bed across from him. "Alex isn't back yet. Think he went ahead?"
"Probably," Rowan replied. "You go on. I'll catch up. Bathroom first."
Once Marcus left, Rowan's form shifted.
Bone, muscle, and features rearranged seamlessly as he adopted a different face. An old identity. One that didn't belong to Rowan Mercer.
He vanished into the night.
Invisible, silent, he drifted toward the Mountain Master's residence.
Then he paused.
Someone was already there.
Alex Ward vaulted lightly over the courtyard wall and landed inside.
Almost instantly, a voice rang out from within the house.
"If you're already here, stop sneaking around and come in."
Alex laughed awkwardly. "Evening, sir."
"Alex," the Mountain Master said. "What kind of trouble are you planning at this hour?"
Rowan hovered above the courtyard, listening.
It didn't take long to piece it together.
Tomorrow's matchups were set.
If Evan Clarke wanted to reach the final round, he would first face a deadly opponent from a shadowy sect. After that, he would need to defeat either Alex Ward or another elite contender.
The Mountain Master believed Evan could win the first fight.
The second was doubtful.
Alex's reason for being here was simple.
He wanted to change fate.
Rowan smiled faintly in the darkness.
Interesting, he thought. Looks like I'm not the only one asking dangerous questions tonight.