After obtaining the Core Flow from Evan Clarke, Rowan rcer didn’t leave Biyou Village. Instead, he vanished in a ripple of distorted air and reappeared in front of the largest building at the back of the settlent.
From Evan’s mories, Rowan already knew why the Company had co here and who stood at the center of it all.
Marcus Hanlon.
The man who founded this place. The creator of the Refinent Furnace. The inheritor of one of the Eight Great Techniques.
Rowan had no interest in the Furnace itself. He already possessed a far superior thod for awakening latent mystic potential. His version didn’t require suffering, risk, or external assistance. Even a trained animal could pass through his process and erge with awakened awareness.
The Furnace, by comparison, was crude.
Painful. Unstable. Inefficient.
But Marcus Hanlon’s personal technique?
That was a different story.
The Divine Forge.
The absolute pinnacle of artifact creation, autonomous constructs, and object manipulation.
That was what Rowan had co for.
He pushed open the door.
A massive golden furnace dominated the center of the workshop. Arcane symbols pulsed faintly across its surface, like a slow chanical heartbeat.
Beside it stood a long-haired man in work clothes, hamring sothing into place.
The man frowned when he heard the door.
"I said nobody is to disturb for the next few days," he snapped, then turned—
And froze.
"You’re not from my village," Marcus said sharply, stepping down from the furnace. "Who are you, and how did you get in here?"
Every path into Biyou Village was guarded.
No outsider was supposed to be able to enter. Not without his permission.
Let alone reach this building.
"My na is Rowan rcer," Rowan said calmly. "You’re Marcus Hanlon. Grandson of Arthur Hanlon. Inheritor of the Divine Forge."
He t Marcus’s eyes.
"I want your technique."
Marcus’s brows rose.
"You just walk in and demand that?" he said coolly. "Then let’s see if you’re qualified to take it."
He slamd his palm onto the furnace.
The walls trembled.
The air warped.
Dozens of humanoid constructs dropped from hidden compartnts in the ceiling and walls, landing around Rowan in a tightening circle. Each one radiated lethal force. One of them, a jet-black figure etched with crimson lines, pulsed with energy rivaling a regional commander.
Rowan lifted a hand.
Lightning exploded outward.
The constructs disintegrated mid-motion. tal fragnts clattered uselessly across the floor.
"I’m not a thief," Rowan said evenly. "I ca to trade."
His voice ca from behind Marcus.
Marcus’s blood ran cold.
Rowan was suddenly standing at his back.
"I’m Rowan rcer," Rowan repeated quietly. "You may have heard of ."
Marcus swallowed.
"You’re the one who won the Grand Assembly," he said slowly. "The one who wiped out the Hale family."
"That’s ."
Rowan stepped forward, raised his hand, and restored every shattered construct with a flick of glowing light. They returned to their original positions, undamaged.
"I’m here to make a deal."
Marcus exhaled through his teeth.
"What kind of deal?"
Rowan glanced at the Refinent Furnace.
"Do you know why the Company sent so many contractors here?"
Marcus’s jaw tightened.
"They’re here for Chloe Dunn. But she’s under my protection. Anyone who cos for her cos through ."
Rowan nodded.
"You’re wrong. Chloe is secondary."
Marcus stiffened.
"They’re here for you. For that furnace. You’re manufacturing unstable mystics. People who gain power without discipline, without restraint. When those people break, innocents die."
He let the words sink in.
"They’ve sealed off the entire area. Military assets included."
Marcus’s face drained of color.
"I can get you out alive," Rowan said quietly. "No pursuit. No execution. No black site."
He looked Marcus dead in the eye.
"In exchange, you give the Divine Forge."
Marcus collapsed into a sitting position, staring at the floor.
"I have to finish the furnace," he whispered. "I have to get my mories back. I have to find my family. I can’t just abandon everything."
Rowan paused.
"Your mories are missing?"
Marcus nodded weakly.
Rowan’s expression shifted.
"That’s my specialty," he said.
He crouched in front of Marcus.
"New deal. I restore your mories. You give the Divine Forge."
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