The hall trembled.
Not from sound—
From presence.
The President stepped down the stairs.
One step.
The pressure deepened.
Another step—
A sharp crack echoed as someone's knees slammed into the floor.
By the third—
Some had already collapsed unconscious.
Breathing became difficult.
Heavy.
Unforgiving.
A few remained standing… barely.
Most were forced down.
Even Ardyn's posture dipped, though he resisted harder than the rest.
"…President," he said through clenched teeth, "you're going too far."
The President stopped mid-step.
"…Too far?"
His voice wasn't loud.
But it carried.
Effortlessly.
"You forget yourselves."
Another step.
The pressure spiked.
"You are not members of this Association…"
His gaze swept across the hall.
"…and yet you turn it into a battlefield."
Silence.
No one dared respond.
Then—
His eyes shifted.
Landed on Ivan.
"Care to explain," he said calmly, "what you were doing here?"
Ivan didn't bow.
Didn't look away.
"I brought him for registration," he said. "Ascendant classification."
A pause.
The President's gaze moved to Riven.
Sharp.
Measuring.
Before he could speak, a man beside him stepped forward slightly.
"Subject evaluated," the attendant said. "Two-star Ascendant. Combat output approximates three-star."
A faint murmur spread—
Then died instantly under the pressure.
The President said nothing.
For a moment.
Then—
The pressure vanished.
Completely.
Bodies collapsed forward as air rushed back into lungs.
Silence followed.
The President descended the final step.
Walked straight toward Riven.
Each step calm.
Controlled.
He stopped in front of him.
Looked at him.
Not like a superior.
Not like a judge.
But like someone examining… potential.
"…So," he said quietly, "we finally have someone interesting."
A small smile appeared.
Then—
He laughed.
Low at first.
Then deeper.
And with each note—
The pressure returned.
Not crushing.
But present.
Heavy enough to remind everyone—
This wasn't approval.
This was a declaration.
Riven stood still.
He understood it.
This wasn't just interest.
This was protection.
And a warning to everyone else.
Ardyn clicked his tongue, his expression dark.
Before he could say anything—
A man appeared beside him.
Well-dressed. Composed.
"Young Master," he said with a slight bow, "the Head is calling for you."
Ardyn's jaw tightened.
He glanced at Riven—
Long enough to make the intent clear.
This wasn't over.
Then he turned and left.
The President placed a hand on Riven's shoulder.
Light.
But it carried weight.
"Even if I can influence many things…" he said calmly, "…there are lines."
A brief pause.
"He is from the Vaelcrest family."
Riven's eyes sharpened slightly.
He turned toward Ivan—
A look that said everything.
You didn't tell me?
Ivan exhaled lightly. "Not the heir. One of them."
"That doesn't help," Riven muttered. "You told me not to mess with the ten giants."
"And you listened?" Ivan raised an eyebrow.
"…No."
"Exactly."
Riven clicked his tongue. "You're a terrible guide."
"And you're a reckless student."
"…Fair."
A faint smirk passed between them.
The President watched quietly.
Talented… and close to a Kaelthorn.
His gaze lingered for a moment.
If he survives… he'll become something worth remembering.
He turned slightly.
"If something happens," he said without looking back, "the Association provides protection."
A small pause.
"Read the manual."
And just like that—
He was gone.
Outside, the air felt lighter.
Riven stretched slightly as they walked.
"…So," he said, "how strong is he?"
Ivan thought for a moment.
"I heard… fifteen years ago, he was a nine-star Ascendant."
Riven stopped.
"Fifteen?"
He looked back instinctively.
"He looks like he's in his late thirties."
Ivan shrugged slightly.
"My grandfather says he's at least… one hundred thirty."
Riven blinked.
"…What?"
"One hundred thirty."
Riven stared at him.
"…So being an Ascendant—"
"Extends lifespan," Ivan said.
Silence.
Then—
Riven's eyes lit slightly.
"…So I can be immortal?"
Ivan glanced at him.
"Only if you stop fighting like you want to die early."
Riven scoffed. "That's your fault. You didn't tell me who that guy was."
"And you would've behaved differently?"
"…No."
"Then it wouldn't have mattered."
Riven shook his head. "Worst guide ever."
Ivan smirked faintly. "Still alive, aren't you?"
"…Barely."
They reached home.
Riven's mother was just entering, carrying bags.
She paused.
"Oh—hello."
Ivan inclined his head slightly.
"Good afternoon."
"Come in, have some tea," she offered warmly.
Ivan shook his head. "Another time. I have something urgent."
Riven glanced at him. "Already?"
Ivan didn't answer.
He simply turned and walked away.
The street grew quieter.
Step by step—
Ivan's expression changed.
More focused.
More distant.
Then—
A figure appeared in front of him.
Instant.
Silent.
The man bowed deeply.
"Young Master."
Ivan's eyes narrowed slightly.
"What is it?"
"The Head has assigned you a mission."
A small device was handed over.
Ivan read it.
Silence followed.
Then—
His expression darkened.
Just slightly.
"…I see."
He closed it.
Looked ahead.
Something had shifted.
END