Seeing how efficiently Hayate had dispatched the Black Elder, Maktoum felt a chill run down his spine. The title "Brother Slayer" was no exaggeration; clearly, Hayate had zero desire for dialogue when it came to those he had marked.
Without hesitation, Maktoum bowed slightly. "Everyone, follow me."
He led the group out of the safe room and down to a high-security conference hall on the third basement level. The room was massive, dominated by a gargantuan electronic screen. Maktoum stepped up to a control console, his fingers dancing over the keys, and the display flickered to life.
The screen split into twelve distinct segments, each representing a seat of the High Table. Soon, encrypted video feeds began to pop up. One by one, the faces of the world's most powerful shadow leaders appeared.
In the end, eleven of the twelve screens lit up. The single black screen belonged to the Elder whom Hayate had just executed. On the other side, the ten remaining Elders abroad were now staring at the conference room in the desert, taking in the sight of Hayate and his team.
Maktoum cleared his throat. "Everyone, today the High Table faces its most significant shift in history. I have convened this supreme council to address it."
The Elders behind the screens were already aware that the headquarters had been breached. Though they lacked the fine details, the distress signal from their fallen colleague had told them enough.
Their expressions were a mix of calculation and curiosity. A Russian Elder was the first to speak. "Maktoum, a meeting is necessary, yes. But before we proceed, perhaps you should explain the 'breach' of our sanctum. We all received the distress signal from Mo."
The reason no one asked where Mo was resulted from the fact that his screen remained dark. They assumed he was dead. They didn't know if this was a coup by Maktoum or an outside invasion, but since the High Table was a coalition of rival factions, internal scheming was par for the course.
Maktoum didn't answer immediately. He glanced at Hayate, silently asking how he wanted to handle the narrative.
Hayate's expression was indifferent. "Hotaru, upload the footage we took earlier to the main display."
Hotaru pulled the SD card from her camera, synced it with the console, and hit play.
The Elders watched in stunned silence as clips of the day's slaughter unfolded. They saw the fireballs, the lightning, the supernatural speed, and the explosive talismans. Every frame screamed that these were not ordinary men.
Hayate stepped forward, looking directly into the cameras. "You've seen the footage. I assume you all understand what this represents."
The atmosphere shifted instantly. While Mo had managed to send a warning, he hadn't had the time to transmit video of his own demise. Seeing these "superpowers" in action changed the calculation entirely.
"I am Shiranui Hayate. Registered member of the New York Continental, Legendary Assassin. I am now applying for one of the twelve seats of the High Table."
The screens remained quiet for a moment. Finally, an Elder with an East Asian appearance spoke up. "Hayate, we know your reputation. Given the strength you've demonstrated, you are certainly qualified for a seat. However, I must ask: can these abilities—and those explosive papers—be taught?"
The other Elders leaned in, their interest piqued. They could see that while the team's powers varied, they followed a system. It wasn't random mutation; it looked like a disciplined form of training.
For people who lived in the shadows, the "mystic side" of the world was easier to believe than it was for the general public.
Hayate chuckled. He knew they were eyeing the "superhuman" Ninjutsu for its prestige and power, and the explosive tags for their utility. A small slip of paper that packs the punch of a grenade and passes through any security check? It was a terrorist's dream.
Unfortunately for them, even if he wanted to teach them, Ninjutsu required chakra—something he currently couldn't bestow upon others.
"Neither the Ninpo nor the explosive tags can be given to you," Hayate said smoothly. "Even if I gave you the tags, you wouldn't be able to trigger them."
"However," he continued, "since I intend to lead, I bring a peace offering to the organization. Have any of you heard of the Paraffin Wax Bath used by the Fraternity of Assassins?"
The mention of the Fraternity caused a stir. The High Table had tried to recruit them years ago, but the Fraternity had famously declined, preferring their own "Fate-driven" isolation.
Since the news of the Fraternity's recent total annihilation had already reached the Table, one Elder asked, "The wax bath? The legendary treatment that can heal mortal wounds in hours?"
"Exactly," Hayate said. "I have refined the process. As a member of the Table, I will install 'Recovery Rooms' featuring the wax bath in every Continental Hotel under your jurisdictions. It will serve as a premier benefit for our assassins."
"As for the pricing and profit-sharing, we can discuss the specifics later."
Hayate's voice then turned cold and dominant. "Now. Regarding my appointment to the High Table: Who agrees, and who opposes?"
The stick had been shown, and the carrot had been offered. Now, it was time for the vote.
Maktoum, standing right beside him, was the first to speak. "Elder Mo has passed, leaving a seat vacant. I support Mr. Shiranui Hayate's ascension to the High Table."
Following Maktoum's lead, the other Elders began to chime in one by one. In the end, faced with overwhelming power and a lucrative business proposal, not a single person voted no.