"Are we really just going to watch this play out?"
The middle-aged man leaned closer to the monitors, worry etched across his thinning brow. On the screen, Rowan Mercer was riding alone, surrounded by converging figures from every direction.
Normally, they stayed out of internal conflicts. That was the rule. But only as long as things didn't spiral into open chaos.
If the Codex was simply stolen, that was one thing. If factions started clashing openly, casualties would follow. And when enough people died, vendettas would multiply. Families would retaliate. Old grudges would resurface. Stability would fracture.
And if that happened in his jurisdiction, responsibility would land squarely on his shoulders.
Alex Ward stepped beside him and offered a cigarette. "Relax. Mercer's not an easy target. Most of these people won't get close. The real variable is the Ward family."
"And if it gets out of hand?"
"I've already spoken to the Grand Master," Alex said calmly. "If things tip too far, he'll step in."
That eased the man slightly. "Good. After tonight, we've already cleaned out a major extremist network. Even their acting leader is gone. That alone counts for something."
Alex exhaled smoke. "Let's just hope the rest doesn't turn into a mess."
Another voice chimed in. "Corporate just called. Regional heads are being summoned to an emergency meeting."
"All of them?"
"Six," the man replied. "The southern sector lost its director. Internal incident."
Alex frowned. "That's going to cause changes."
"Exactly. Keep your head down."
On the monitor, movement finally broke the standoff.
A young man in a cap burst from the ground beneath Rowan's bike, reaching straight for the basket strapped to the front. He didn't attack Rowan. He went for the Codex.
Rowan barely glanced down.
"Subterranean displacement," he murmured. "Worth remembering."
A crack of electricity snapped outward. A glowing lash wrapped around the attacker mid-air, jolting him unconscious before yanking him back onto the road.
That was the signal.
Figures poured in from every direction.
Illusions sprang to life. Paper constructs lunged forward. Animals charged under unseen control. Charms flared. Bound entities screamed. Even hand-to-hand specialists rushed in through the chaos.
Rowan blinked.
"That's… more variety than I expected."
For a moment, even he was impressed. Some of these techniques clearly originated from established schools. Not official representatives, perhaps, but practitioners who had learned the real thing somewhere along the line. Defectors. Dropouts. Thieves. Survivors.
Then Rowan smiled.
"Even better."
He moved.
A streak of lightning cut through the crowd. Bodies dropped one after another, muscles locked, senses gone. Rowan didn't linger. He didn't overextend. He struck once per target, clean and precise, circling back to his bike as if taking a casual lap.
When it was over, the road was lined with unconscious figures.
Rowan dismounted briefly, placing a hand on each attacker's head. Memories surfaced. Techniques cataloged. Methods recorded.
He mounted the bike again and continued on his way.
No deaths. No bloodshed.
Just lessons learned.
Back in the control room, the thinning-haired man stared at the screen. "That was… fast."
Alex nodded slowly. "Too fast."
Even their most dangerous operatives would have struggled under that kind of pressure. Rowan Mercer hadn't even broken stride.
"This isn't normal," the man muttered.
Alex narrowed his eyes. "We'll know more once the Ward family makes their move."
He hesitated, then added quietly, "There's a theory going around."
The man glanced at him. "I don't like theories."
"Neither do I. But some people think Mercer isn't entirely… himself."
Silence stretched.
"You're not suggesting possession."
"I'm saying his growth curve doesn't make sense," Alex replied. "If someone like that were hiding behind a young face, it would explain a lot."
"But his abilities don't match that profile," the man said immediately. "Different discipline. Different signatures."
"Exactly," Alex said. "Which is why it's just a theory. For now."
A warning icon flashed on the monitor.
Rowan Mercer was approaching the Ward family's perimeter.
Alex straightened. "Notify Evan Clarke. Get the Grand Master moving."
If Rowan cracked here, they'd finally see what he really was.