## Liam's Perspective
My blood ran cold at the sight of Erson Hols seated at the table. That smug face brought back a flood of bitter mories—my ex-wife's betrayal, the public humiliation, the years of degradation.
"Pavilion Master Valerius," Erson greeted Mariana with exaggerated courtesy, completely ignoring . "How gracious of you to join us tonight."
Mariana's face revealed nothing. "I believe we're all here for the sa purpose."
I clenched my fists, struggling to maintain composure. Mariana had set up this eting without telling Erson would be here. Why?
My attention shifted as the door opened again. An elderly man entered, walking with the confident stride of soone accustod to power. His white hair was immaculately grood, his expensive clothes perfectly tailored. The air around him seed to vibrate with suppressed energy.
Everyone at the table stood respectfully. Even Erson.
The old man's cold eyes locked onto . "So this is the troublemaker I've heard so much about."
Mariana touched my arm in warning, but I was beyond caution. I recognized this man from descriptions—Darian Bancroft, President of the Veridia City Martial Guild.
"Where is she?" The words escaped my mouth before I could stop them.
Darian raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"
"Isabelle Ashworth," I said, stepping forward. "Where are you keeping her?"
The room went deathly quiet. Mariana's fingers dug into my arm, but I shook her off.
"Young man," Darian said with manufactured patience, "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Liar." The word hung in the air between us.
Erson smirked. "Still the sa impulsive fool, Knight. You haven't changed at all."
I ignored him, my focus solely on Darian Bancroft. "Your Guild abducted Isabelle Ashworth. You're using her blood for your twisted experints."
Darian's face hardened. "These are serious allegations to make without proof. Perhaps you've been misinford."
"I saw your lackeys take her," I said. "I fought Julian Radford two days ago. He confird everything."
A flicker of surprise crossed Darian's features. "You encountered Julian and lived? Impressive. But it changes nothing."
My rage bubbled over. Three strides brought directly in front of him. "Tell where she is."
This text was acquired from *.
"Or what?" Darian's voice was dangerously soft.
The other attendees backed away, sensing violence. Only Mariana remained calm, though her eyes betrayed concern.
"Liam," she warned. "This isn't the ti."
"When is the ti?" I demanded. "While they drain her dry?"
Darian sighed, as if dealing with a petulant child. "If you'll excuse , I have a summit to attend. We can discuss your delusions another ti."
As he turned to leave, sothing inside snapped. Three years of being stepped on, of being powerless—no more. I grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around.
"You're not going anywhere until you tell where she is."
The old man's eyes widened in disbelief. No one touched him. Ever.
Before he could respond, my open palm connected with his face in a resounding slap that echoed through the room.
Gasps erupted from everyone present. Even Mariana looked stunned.
Darian's cheek reddened from the impact. His calm facade crackled, revealing the fury beneath. The temperature in the room plumted as his spiritual energy surged.
"You dare?" he whispered.
I stood my ground, unflinching. "I dare much more than that. Tell everyone here what you're really doing. Tell them how you're draining Isabelle's blood to create your super soldiers."
Darian's eyes narrowed. "Pavilion Master Valerius, control your attack dog before I put him down permanently."
"Threats?" I laughed. "That's all you have? Where's your precious Julian Radford now?"
For a mont, I thought he might attack. His spiritual energy pressed against like a physical force.
Then, surprisingly, he regained his composure. "You've made a grave mistake today, Knight. One you'll regret deeply."
"My only regret is not finding Isabelle sooner," I countered.
Darian straightened his clothes with deliberate slowness. "Enjoy your remaining ti, boy. It won't be long."
With that, he swept past toward the inner doors leading to the summit venue. I started to follow, but Mariana finally intervened, stepping between us.
"Enough, Liam," she said firmly. "You've made your point."
"Have I?" I challenged, not taking my eyes off Darian's retreating back.
Once he disappeared through the doors, Mariana pulled aside. Her voice was low, urgent. "Are you trying to get yourself killed? That's Darian Bancroft!"
"I know exactly who he is," I replied coldly. "And I don't care."
"You should," she hissed. "He can crush you without breaking a sweat."
"Let him try."
Mariana shook her head in frustration. "This isn't helping Isabelle. We ca here to gather information, make potential alliances—not start a war in the anteroom."
I took a deep breath, trying to regain control. "You could have warned about Erson."
"Would you have co if I had?"
She had there. "Probably not."
"Exactly." Mariana glanced toward the summit doors. "We should go in. Despite your... introduction... we still have business here."
I nodded, reluctantly following her toward the venue. Erson had already disappeared inside, likely rushing to spread gossip about my confrontation with Darian.
The summit hall was massive, elegantly decorated with crystal chandeliers and ancient artifacts. At least fifty powerful figures mingled throughout the space, their combined spiritual energy making the air feel thick and charged.
"Who are all these people?" I whispered to Mariana.
"The most influential individuals in Veridia City and beyond," she explained. "Guild masters, family patriarchs, business titans—people who shape our world from the shadows."
I spotted Darian across the room, already engaged in conversation with a circle of admirers. He seed completely unfazed by our confrontation.
"See the man by the eastern window?" Mariana gestured subtly. "Ignazio Bellweather. They call him the god of the battle zone."
I studied the imposing figure—tall, broad-shouldered, with a face marked by ancient battle scars. "Is he stronger than Jackson Harding?"
"Different," Mariana replied thoughtfully. "Jackson is like a surgeon's scalpel. Ignazio is a sledgehamr."
We moved deeper into the room. I could feel eyes following —news of my confrontation with Darian had already spread.
Ignazio Bellweather noticed our approach and broke away from his conversation. He t us halfway, his massive fra towering over even my six-foot height.
"Pavilion Master Valerius," he rumbled, voice deep as thunder. "And this must be the young Knight I've been hearing about."
I extended my hand. "Liam Knight."
His grip was firm but controlled. "Bold move, slapping Darian Bancroft. Most n wouldn't live to brag about it."
"I'm not most n."
Ignazio's laughter bood across the hall. "I can see that! Jackson spoke highly of you. Said you might be the one to shake things up around here."
That surprised . "You know Jackson Harding?"
"We've crossed paths. Fought together, fought against each other." Ignazio's eyes glead with mories. "The man's a legend for good reason."
"Is he stronger than you?" I asked bluntly.
Another laugh. "Direct, aren't you? It depends on the day and the circumstances. But I wouldn't bet against him in a fair fight."
Our conversation was interrupted by a sudden hush that fell over the entire gathering. All eyes turned toward the main entrance.
A distinguished man had entered. Tall, lean, with piercing eyes and silver-streaked black hair. He moved with fluid grace, radiating authority without effort. Everyone, including Darian Bancroft, inclined their heads respectfully as he passed.
"Who is that?" I asked, keeping my voice low.
Mariana's expression was grave. "Desmond Davenport. Likely the highest-ranking person you've ever encountered."
I watched as the newcor acknowledged the assembled guests with subtle nods. Even from across the room, I could sense his overwhelming power.
"What's his position?"
Mariana's eyes remained fixed on Davenport. "That's a complicated question."
The summit had just beco far more interesting—and dangerous.
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