Rowan Mercer brought the bike to a stop and rested one foot on the ground.
In front of him, figures emerged from every direction, closing the distance with practiced precision. At their center stood an elderly man leaning on a cane, calm and composed. Beside him sat a younger man wrapped in bandages, his body strapped into a wheelchair like fragile cargo.
Rowan looked them over and smiled faintly.
"So this is the welcoming committee," he said. "You didn't even bother hiding your faces. Guess subtlety isn't the plan anymore."
The bandaged man's face twisted with rage.
"You crippled me," he snarled. "Do you have any idea what you did? Today, you pay for it. With interest."
Rowan barely glanced at him.
The elder, however, remained unruffled. "Originally, I planned to leave you alive," he said calmly. "Remove your hands, take your voice, make you an example. But seeing how many others tried their luck today, it simplifies things. When you're gone, blame can be spread around."
Rowan tilted his head and looked up at the sky.
A faint hum betrayed the presence of drones hovering far above, silent and unseen by most. He shook his head slightly.
"You people really haven't kept up," he said. "This isn't the era where things disappear quietly anymore."
He stepped off the bike.
"Since we're past pretending," Rowan continued, his voice steady, "let's be honest. Every single one of you here is irrelevant. If I wanted you dead, it would take less effort than stepping on ants."
The younger man laughed, high and unsteady. "He's lost his mind."
The elder raised his cane once. "Take the Codex. Then finish it."
They surged forward.
Rowan rose into the air in a single smooth motion, heat rippling outward as he drew breath.
A roar followed.
Flame poured down like a falling star, layered with colors that twisted the air itself. The ground vanished beneath it. Sound vanished. Motion vanished.
When the fire cleared, there was nothing left.
No bodies. No screams.
Only a crater gouged into the asphalt, so deep its bottom couldn't be seen.
Rowan landed lightly at the edge and exhaled.
"That should do."
He lifted a hand and gave a casual wave toward the distant drones.
Then he vanished.
Two kilometers away, inside a military command truck, silence reigned.
A cigarette slipped from Alex Ward's fingers and hit the floor, forgotten.
The monitors showed only the aftermath. No movement. No heat signatures. Just the crater.
No one spoke.
Finally, the Grand Master broke the silence.
"So it was him," he murmured. "That explains everything."
He had come prepared to intervene, to mediate if things spiraled out of control. Rowan Mercer had saved the mountain. This was the least he could do in return.
But mediation had never been needed.
That attack, the overwhelming force, was unmistakable. It matched the techniques of the mysterious ascetic who had defeated him days earlier. The realization settled heavily.
The Ward family hadn't miscalculated.
They'd challenged something far beyond them.
"Master," Evan Clarke asked carefully, "do you know who he really is?"
The Grand Master shook his head. "Not by name. Only that he once tested me under another face… and won."
That sent a ripple through the truck.
Won.
Against him.
"I lost cleanly," the Grand Master continued. "For the first time in my life. I don't even know where his limits are."
No one liked that.
Alex Ward swallowed. "This is going to shake headquarters."
"It already has," the regional director said quietly, wiping sweat from his brow. "A figure like this doesn't fit into any framework we have."
The Grand Master looked at them in turn. "He acts with restraint. He doesn't seek chaos. Today happened because he was pushed. Remember that before anyone makes another mistake."
Alex exhaled slowly, forcing a smile. "Don't worry. If someone like him exists on our side of the board, leadership will treat him very carefully."
Carefully was an understatement.
A man who could erase an entire faction in seconds wasn't a problem to be solved.
He was a force to be respected.
...
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