The voice had come from the staircase overlooking the guild's main hall.
Nova turned toward it and saw a man, nearly six feet tall, perhaps an inch short, wearing a fully covered black suit. There was nothing particularly unusual about his appearance, but the way everyone reacted to him was enough to tell Nova that he held considerable authority here.
The man descended the stairs at an unhurried pace, his gaze moving over the ruined floor, the two boys who had been fighting, and the crowd gathered around them. Nova struggled to get up, but the man immediately motioned for him to stay down. The expression on his face made the instruction clear enough.
Before Nova could protest, four nurses rushed into view and knelt beside him. One examined the hole in his abdomen while another took his injured hand. Their hands glowed with the familiar light of healing abilities, stimulating the cells in his body and closing the wounds before he lost any more blood.
A third nurse concentrated on the damage beneath his skin. Nova felt an odd warmth spreading through his stomach, ribs, and chest, followed by a sensation almost like something gently pulling his insides back into place. The fourth, a specialist, checked for anything the others might have missed, repairing internal injuries and purifying his body of anything harmful left behind by the fight.
"Try not to move," one of them told him. "Your abdomen took a serious hit. It won't take long, but give us a moment."
"I wasn't planning on getting stabbed today," Nova answered, watching the wound close with genuine interest. "Though I suppose I should've expected something like this after picking a fight with an awakened person."
A few steps away, the leader of the trio looked considerably less pleased. Two of his friends were helping him sit upright, but the nurses' decision to treat Nova first seemed to offend him more than the injuries he had suffered.
"Treat me first, woman!" he shouted. "I'm royalty, unlike this fucking peasant!"
The boy then turned his gaze toward the man descending the staircase. "Do you even know who I am? Or what my father could do if I tell him what happened here?"
The man finally reached the bottom of the stairs. His face had grown slightly furious, as though the boy's constant yapping was beginning to test what little patience he had left.
"I don't care who your father is," he said, his voice low and cold. "I don't care who you are, and I don't care what your family can do. What I care about is my guild, my employees, and protecting the civilians of this country. Do you understand?"
The boy gulped. His earlier arrogance seemed to disappear all at once, although Nova doubted it had actually gone anywhere. It had simply been buried beneath the realization that his father's reputation might not protect him this time.
He turned slightly, addressing the people gathered around them. "As the Vice President of the guild, I hereby..."
"Wait," Nova interrupted.
"Don't banish him yet," he said, pushing himself onto an elbow despite the nurse's warning glance. "We still have a bet to settle. And since I overheard him speaking about the tournament, why not do it there?"
The Vice President studied him for a moment. Then a small smile appeared on his face.
"You intrigue me, boy. You nearly got yourself killed, and the first thing you're worried about is a bet?"
"I agreed to it," Nova replied. "I'd rather not leave things unfinished."
He didn't mention the part where the loser was supposed to obey the winner. It had seemed like an entertaining wager before the fight. Now that he had experienced what a single awakened ability could do to his mortal body, he understood the risk rather better. Still, the match had ended in a tie. Neither of them had won anything.
The man glanced at the other boy, whose face had begun to twist with anger again.
"Very well. I'll honor your settlement," he said. "You have a chance to avoid being banished from this guild, provided you become one of the selected contestants in tomorrow's tournament. And I'll see to it that the tournament goes live. Because it's about to be spectacular."
His two friends hurried forward, lifted him to his feet, and helped him toward the exit. Just before disappearing from view, he looked back at Nova with an expression filled with hatred and revenge. Nova met his gaze without saying anything.
The shy boy wearing glasses started following the trio out of habit, his head lowered and his shoulders tense.
"Wait," Nova called.
The boy stopped immediately, almost as though someone had given him an order. He looked from Nova to the departing group, clearly uncertain where he was supposed to go.
"Stay," Nova said. "You don't have to follow them. They don't own you. You're a human."
"I-I know," the boy answered, though his voice suggested he didn't believe it himself.
Nova watched him hesitate. The boy looked frightened, and not merely because of what had happened in the hall. There was something about the way he kept glancing toward the doors, as though walking away from those three might bring consequences Nova knew nothing about.
"Then why are you still going after them?" Nova asked, more gently this time.
The boy pressed his lips together. "I... I can't explain it."
"You don't have to explain it to me right now," Nova replied. "But you can at least stand here for a moment without them telling you what to do."
The boy looked at him in surprise. Slowly, he nodded.
He turned back toward the nurses as the last of his soreness faded away. The hole in his stomach had completely closed, and even his damaged knuckles looked as though he had never struck a stone wall. He sat upright and tested his fingers, fascinated by how thoroughly the healing had worked.
"Thank you," he said to the nurses. "I appreciate it."
"Then try to stay out of fights for the rest of the day," one of them answered.
Nova smiled. "I'll do my best."
The nurses returned to the infirmary while the Vice President approached the two boys. The crowd slowly dispersed, though several people continued whispering about the fight and the announcement concerning the tournament.
"Join me," the man said. "Both of you. I want to speak to you."
"Are you signed up for the tournament?" he asked.
Nova stared at him. "Signed up?"
"Yes. Registered. Entered your details. The usual process."
"Oh." Nova paused. "I thought I only needed to show up."
The man looked at him for a long second before sighing. Beside Nova, the glasses boy silently shook his head as well.
They approached the counter where the receptionist from earlier had returned to work. She straightened when she saw the Vice President, her expression nervous, but she remained behind her desk.
"Sign these two up," he told her.
"Of course, sir."
She turned to the boy with glasses first. "Please tell me your name and email address. We'll use those details to notify you when the results are available."
"A-Adam Taylor," he answered quietly.
The receptionist repeated the name to make sure she had heard it correctly. Adam nodded and gave his email address, stumbling over a few words as he did. She waited without interrupting him, which seemed to help, although only a little.
Then the receptionist turned toward Nova. A little color appeared in her cheeks, and for a moment her attention drifted away from the registration screen. She seemed to be staring at him rather than listening for his answer.
The Vice President snapped his fingers beside her desk.
"You with us?"
"Y-Yes, sir! Sorry."
Nova tilted his head, slightly confused by her reaction. "My name is Nova. Just Nova. I don't have an email address, only a phone number from this old phone."
He took out the device and showed it to her. It wasn't particularly impressive compared with the phones he had seen other mortals carrying, but it worked, which was all he needed.
"That's fine," she said, returning to her work. "Your phone number will do."
She entered his details, checked them once, and handed the device back. Nova thanked her before stepping away from the counter.
"Both of you, meet me two days after the tournament, exactly at noon," the Vice President said. "Don't forget."
With their registration complete, the man led them to the elevators. Nova glanced around as they walked, taking in the number of people moving through the guild and the different floors listed beside the doors. He had been so occupied with the tournament and then the fight that he hadn't paid much attention to the building itself.
The Vice President pressed the button for the fortieth floor.
Only the three of them entered the elevator. Once the doors closed, an uncomfortable silence settled over the small space. Adam stood almost perfectly still, his hands clasped in front of him. Nova leaned back slightly and watched the floor numbers change.
The man finally reached up, loosened his tie, and let out a long breath.
"I'm so fucking tired," he muttered. "This tie makes me want to kill myself. It's so tight."
He chuckled, noticing the way both boys were looking at him.
"Oh, yeah. My name's Marcus, and I'm the Vice President of the American Guild. Figured I should introduce myself before dragging you two all the way up to my office."
"S-Sir, I'm Adam," the boy added.
"I know. I was there when you registered." Marcus rubbed the bridge of his nose, then smiled faintly. "Relax, both of you. I'm not taking you upstairs to punish you. If I wanted to do that, you wouldn't be following me willingly."
The elevator continued upward until it finally reached the fortieth floor. The doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing a quieter part of the guild. Unlike the crowded hall below, this floor seemed to contain little more than Marcus's office and the space outside it.
His assistant sat behind a neatly arranged desk, a stack of papers waiting beside her. Everything had its place. Even though she clearly had plenty of work ahead of her, she wasn't rushing through it or allowing the papers to pile up carelessly.
She glanced up as Marcus approached. He gave her a brief nod and guided the boys toward the office doors.
When they stepped inside, Nova understood immediately that Marcus had expensive tastes.
The room was like an exotic predator's den, lavish yet understated. It was the sort of luxury that didn't need to scream for attention. The floor was polished dark wood, its surface so smooth that it reflected their silhouettes as they entered. A massive window spanned the far wall, offering a sweeping view of the city below, with sunlight spilling across the room.
The furniture was minimal but carefully made, leaving the office spacious without making it feel empty. A faint scent of sandalwood and leather lingered in the air, giving the place a quiet warmth beneath its impressive appearance.