Location: Adonaios — Turf Factions Boardroom — Night
Zhang Han stood. His chair did not scrape. It simply... ceased to be behind him. He stepped around the table, his movements fluid, unhurried. The orange lines on his aethernova suit pulsed—slow, rhythmic, like the breathing of a creature that had never known sleep.
Madam Lynne did not move.
She sat in her chair, her hands folded on the table, her expression carved from stone. But her eyes tracked him. Always tracking.
"You know," Zhang Han said, "your manner of composure—your demeanor—made me mistake you for someone of quite honorable character."
He stopped across from her.
"It seems the Saiyan family made a blunder. Giving the keys to an idiot."
Madam Lynne's jaw tightened.
Her fingers, folded on the table, curled—just slightly, just enough.
"And you?" she said. Her voice was silk wrapped around steel. "Why would a Sutran bloodline rely on external means to showcase brute strength? Only lunatic heretics from the Gilgamesh would try such a stunt."
She leaned forward.
"You. Of the Kaelos subclan. Like myself. Defecting to their crazy path?"
Her head tilted.
"That's just digging your own grave."
Zhang Han smiled.
It was not a warm smile. Not a cold smile. Something in between. Something that looked like certainty.
"Only ignorant and naive fellows could think like you, Madam Lynne."
Her hands pressed flat against the table.
The wood groaned.
"The old Sutran way," he continued, "led to prosperity among our people for thousands of years. It gave us power. Longevity. Respect."
He raised his hand.
The orange glow flickered.
"But in the end, true immortality was never reached. We could live for centuries—yes. But we still perished. We could not escape the viscosity of time."
"You speak of escape," Madam Lynne said. "As if death were an enemy to be defeated, not a companion to be accepted."
"Death is the enemy of ambition."
Zhang Han's eyes moved to the ceiling, as if he could see through it, through the building, through the sky.
"A solution was found. By brilliant minds from the Gilgamesh. A new pathway."
His hand lowered.
"Aetherflux. Not mind, body, and spirit trying to unite. But machinery, mind, and spirit. The flesh discarded. Only the core remains."
He touched his temple.
"No more decay. No more aging. Consciousness uploaded into the orrhion chip. I possess one within my mind. I will be immortal."
He spread his arms.
"Unlike the stubborn ones—the ones who cling to the old path, who refuse to see the future—I will endure."
Madam Lynne's lip curled.
"Deluded idiot," she said. "You don't even know the depths of the hideousness that hides within your path."
"Perhaps." Zhang Han's arms dropped. "Perhaps only a fine duel between us can answer the question of which of us is right."
The room held its breath.
---
Zhang Han turned.
His eyes found Pauline.
She was still on her knees, her forehead still pressed to the floor, her body still trembling.
"My master," Zhang Han said, "Sir Augustine Halvern, would not be pleased to know a mere mortal dared to dig trouble for his family. To tarnish their reputation among the three families."
Pauline's shoulders shook.
"That would not be pleasing," Zhang Han continued. "Unlike me, he is not a patient man."
Pauline's breath came in short, sharp gasps.
Erickson, still crouched, still covering his face, shifted his fingers.
Behind them, his eyes widened.
Augustine Halvern, he thought. The son of Theodore. The heir to the Halvern consortium. He's Zhang Han's master?
His heart raced.
This is information I need to remember.
His face remained buried.
His shoulders continued to shake.
Act, he told himself. Act afraid. Act broken. Act like the rest of them.
---
Madam Lynne gestured at the room.
At Andreas, still half-hidden under the table. At Erickson, curled in the corner. At Pauline, kneeling on the floor.
"So what now?" she said. "We've already exposed our identities to these... babies."
Chicky swung her legs.
Her pastel-pink hair bounced. Her lips were wrapped around a lollipop—bright blue, almost glowing. She pulled it out with a soft pop.
"How about you let me play with them?"
She tilted her head.
Her eyes were dark. Depthless.
"I would really like it if they became my pets."
Her smile widened.
Andreas, still under the table, made a sound—something between a whimper and a swallowed curse.
Erickson's fingers tightened over his eyes.
Don't react, he thought. Don't. React.
---
Zhang Han shook his head.
"No," he said. "It doesn't matter. What change would it make? Who would believe them anyway?"
He gestured at the room.
"The three families still need them. To continue ensuring the flow of money and goods. Finding replacements in today's modern era..."
He sighed.
"You know how the generation of today are. Hopeless. Brainless. Idiots."
"So they still serve a purpose," Madam Lynne said.
"For now."
Zhang Han's eyes narrowed.
"But I didn't expect that the three families would do things behind the scenes without informing me."
He stared at Madam Lynne.
Her expression flickered.
"I was also kept in the dark," she said.
"Were you?"
"I don't lie."
Zhang Han was quiet for a moment.
"It appears," he said, "that if the two of us are not careful, we might end up like Theodore Halvern."
Madam Lynne's face changed.
Her eyes widened—just a fraction. Her lips pressed together. Her hands, still flat on the table, trembled.
"Theodore Halvern," Zhang Han continued, "reached a profound level in the old Sutran way. He was respected. Feared. Untouchable."
He stepped closer.
"But he was disposed of when he was found to be troubling the real players within the Mysterium clan."
"Disposed," Madam Lynne repeated.
"Frederick Morrecca's blunder really exposed our mistake. The only way to atone is to search for Commy's whereabouts. I doubt the Morrecca were truly behind the Osseno attack."
He paused.
"Finding that dummy is our top priority for now."
He looked at her.
"So. What of it? Do you want to try? To see which of us is right?"
Madam Lynne stood.
Her chair scraped backward.
"I hope you don't regret it," she said.
---
Zhang Han gestured.
Andreas, still under the table, was pulled to his feet by two of Chicky's agents. His face was pale. His eyes were wide. His legs wobbled.
Erickson rose slowly, his hands still covering his face, his shoulders still shaking.
Pauline was helped up by one of Zhang Han's operatives—a man in a gray suit, his face expressionless.
They were lined up against the wall.
The boardroom had become an arena.
Madam Lynne and Zhang Han faced each other.
The space between them was empty.
The table had been moved—by whom, no one saw. It was simply... elsewhere.
The lights dimmed.
The windows darkened.
And two Sutran practitioners—one of the old way, one of the new—prepared to show each other the truth.
---