I wasn't done with Erson Hols, not by a long shot. The look of terror on his face as he realized I held his daughter's life in my hands had given a twisted satisfaction. But I needed more than just information—I needed to break his loyalty to the Guild completely.
"One more thing before I go," I said, turning back from the window.
Erson flinched, clutching his drink with white knuckles. "What more do you want from ?"
"Your allegiance." I stepped closer, watching him shrink back in his chair. "You still believe in them, don't you? Still think the Guild is sohow noble beneath its corruption?"
"The Guild has protected Veridia City for centuries," he mumbled, though his voice lacked conviction.
I laughed, the sound harsh even to my own ears. "Protected it? They've strangled it. They've bled it dry while claiming to be its savior."
"What would you have do?" Desperation crept into his voice. "Betray them? They'd kill —and my daughter."
I studied him for a mont, seeing the fear and conflict in his eyes. This man who'd helped destroy my life was now trapped in a prison of his own making.
"Let's make a bet," I proposed, my tone deceptively casual. "Go to Darian Bancroft tomorrow. Tell him everything—about your daughter's illness, about my visit. Beg him for help."
Confusion flickered across his face. "You... want to report you?"
"If the Guild is as noble as you believe, they'll help save your daughter. They'll protect you both from ." I leaned closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. "But if they abandon you—if they prove to be exactly what I know they are—then you work for ."
"That's insane," he protested. "I can't—"
"You can and you will." I grabbed his collar, pulling him to his feet. "Your daughter is dying, Erson. I made sure of that."
His eyes widened in horror. "What? But you said—"
"I didn't harm her physically." I released him with a slight push. "But I did slip sothing into her tea earlier. A slow-acting poison of my own creation. One that will kill her in exactly forty-eight hours."
"You monster!" He lunged at , but I sidestepped easily.
"Only the antidote can save her now." I watched the fight drain from him as the truth sank in. "So make your choice. Trust in your precious Guild, or watch your daughter die."
Tears welled in his eyes—real, desperate tears of a father facing the unthinkable. "The antidote... please..."
"After the bet." I moved toward the window again. "If the Guild fails you, co to the abandoned temple in the Eastern Quarter at midnight tomorrow. Serve faithfully, and your daughter lives."
"And if the Guild helps ?" he asked, his voice barely audible.
I smiled coldly. "Then I lose, and you both go free. After all, I'm a man of my word."
With that, I disappeared into the night, leaving Erson Hols to his impossible choice. It wasn't just cruelty driving my actions—it was necessity. I needed spies within the Guild's ranks if I was going to save Isabelle. And nothing creates loyalty like desperation.
---
The next morning, I watched the Guild headquarters from a safe distance, cloaked in shadows and a disguise that made unrecognizable even to those who knew well. My wounds from the previous day's battle still ached, but I pushed the pain aside. Physical discomfort ant nothing compared to what Isabelle must be enduring.
Through careful observation, I spotted Erson Hols arriving, his posture rigid with fear and determination. So he'd taken the bait. Now to see if my prediction about the Guild would prove correct.
---
Erson Hols paced nervously in the antechamber outside President Bancroft's office, rehearsing his plea in his mind. The receptionist watched him with undisguised irritation.
"Mr. Hols, please sit down. The President will see you when he's ready."
He ignored her, continuing his anxious circuit. His daughter's life hung in the balance, each passing minute bringing her closer to death. When the ornate doors finally opened, he practically lunged forward.
"President Bancroft! Thank you for seeing . I have urgent—"
"Make it quick, Hols." Darian Bancroft didn't look up from the docunts on his desk. "I have the Hunting Legion commanders arriving in twenty minutes."
Erson swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. "Sir, it's about the black-robed cultivator. He... he ca to my ho last night."
That got Bancroft's attention. His head snapped up, eyes narrowing. "Explain."
"He broke in, sohow bypassing all my security. He threatened , demanded information about Miss Ashworth." Erson's words tumbled out in a rush. "But that's not why I'm here. Sir, he poisoned my daughter."
Bancroft's expression remained impassive. "Go on."
"A slow-acting poison. She has less than two days before..." He couldn't finish the sentence. "I need the Guild's help. Our dical division must have sothing—an antidote, a purifying technique, anything."
"Why would he poison your child?" Bancroft asked, his tone analytical rather than sympathetic.
Erson hesitated, weighing how much to reveal. "He... he forced to cooperate. To spy on the Guild. He said if I ca to you instead, and you helped save her, he would leave us alone."
"I see." Bancroft steepled his fingers. "And did you learn anything else about this mysterious attacker?"
"Nothing I haven't already reported, sir." The lie ca easily, born of growing doubt.
Bancroft was silent for a long mont, his cold eyes studying Erson with unsettling intensity. Finally, he sighed.
"Hols, do you know why the Veridia City Martial Guild has maintained its position for over three centuries?"
The question caught Erson off guard. "Because of its strength, sir. Its commitnt to protecting the city."
"No." Bancroft's voice was sharp. "Because we never show weakness. Because we understand sacrifice."
A chill ran down Erson's spine. "Sir?"
"Your informant position has been compromised. This cultivator knows who you are, where you live. He's using your daughter to manipulate you." Bancroft rose from his chair, turning to look out the window. "Since your daughter is already poisoned, take this opportunity to get rid of your weakness."
The words hit Erson like a physical blow. "What... what are you saying?"
"I'm saying let her die." Bancroft turned back, his expression devoid of compassion. "Then you'll have nothing left to lose, nothing for our enemies to threaten you with. You'll be a more valuable asset."
Erson staggered backward, his world crumbling around him. "But she's just a child! My only child!"
"And that's precisely the problem." Bancroft's voice hardened. "Your attachnt to her makes you vulnerable. Makes the Guild vulnerable." This соpy соmеs frоm соntеnt оn
"Please," Erson dropped to his knees, pride forgotten. "I've served the Guild faithfully for decades. I'm begging you."
"Your service is precisely why I'm being candid with you rather than simply having you both eliminated." Bancroft returned to his seat. "The dical division has its resources focused on the Ashworth extraction. We have no ti for distractions."
"Distractions?" Erson echoed, his voice hollow. "My daughter's life is a distraction?"
"In the grand sche of what we're accomplishing? Yes." Bancroft glanced at his tipiece. "Now, unless you have actual intelligence to report about this cultivator, I suggest you leave and co to terms with your situation."
Erson remained on his knees, shock paralyzing him. All his years of loyalty, all his sacrifices for the Guild—and this was their response? Let his innocent daughter die because saving her was inconvenient?
"Get up, Hols. You're embarrassing yourself." Bancroft's tone was dismissive. "If you want to continue serving the Guild, return when you've regained your composure. If not..." The threat hung unspoken in the air.
Slowly, chanically, Erson rose to his feet. His mind raced with disbelief, with rage, with the sickening realization that Liam Knight had been right all along. The Guild he had devoted his life to cared nothing for him or his family.
"Thank you for your ti, President Bancroft," he said, his voice eerily calm. "I'll see myself out."
As he turned to leave, Bancroft called after him. "Hols. Whatever you're thinking right now—don't. Rember who we are, what we're capable of."
Erson didn't respond. He walked out of the office, past the curious receptionist, through the grand corridors of the Guild headquarters that had once filled him with pride but now seed like the halls of a mausoleum.
Outside, the bright morning sun felt like a mockery of the darkness that had consud his heart. Liam Knight had won their bet. The Guild had failed him in the most fundantal way possible.
And now, to save his daughter's life, he would have to sell his soul to the man he had once helped destroy.
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