Oba stepped forward, the motion quick, almost reflexive, like the silence pressing in around him had finally gotten too loud to ignore. His jaw tightened as he moved, eyes fixed ahead, ready to push back into the space Kenta had so easily taken.
A sharp crack stopped him.
Avant's hand came down cleanly against the back of his head, the sound snapping through the bunker and dragging every bit of attention back to that single point. Oba jolted forward half a step, his words cutting off before they could form as his hand came up to the spot, rubbing it with an immediate scowl.
Avant didn't pause.
He stepped past him like the interruption had already served its purpose, moving into the space in front of Oba without looking back.
"Keep your mouth shut," he said calmly. "You've said enough."
Oba's expression twisted, irritation flashing hot behind his eyes as he continued rubbing the back of his head, fingers pressing into it like he could work the sting out by force. For a second, it looked like he might argue anyway.
He didn't.
"Tch..."
The sound slipped out low and sharp, but he stepped back, shoulders still tense, scowl still firmly in place. It wasn't agreement. Just restraint. Avant ignored him completely.
His attention shifted forward, settling on Kenta as his tongue clicked softly against the roof of his mouth. His gaze dragged from Kenta's boots upward, slow and deliberate, taking in the worn fabric, the loose posture, the way he stood like none of this demanded his effort.
Then Avant moved. He stepped closer, then past, circling without breaking his line of sight. Each step was measured, quiet, controlled, his presence tightening slightly as he moved like a predator testing the edges of something unfamiliar.
Kenta didn't move. He stayed exactly where he was, hands tucked into his sleeves, posture loose, like the entire inspection was something happening around him rather than to him. Only a slight lift of his eyebrow marked that he'd noticed. He waited until Avant passed behind him.
"You checking me out?" Kenta said casually. "It's flattering, but I don't swing on that side of the pendulum."
A faint shift rippled through the room, a couple of men stiffening, one nearly letting out a laugh before catching himself. Avant said nothing.
He completed the circle and stopped in front of Kenta, close enough now that the difference between them settled into the space without needing to be stated. Straight posture against loose ease. Measured control against quiet indifference.
"I was merely taking a good look," Avant said, "at the man who Hemlock says supposedly brought down Hanko Demitri."
He paused before then nodding once.
"I believe him and what he says."
The words landed without force, but they carried with force regardless.
"The words of Hemlock," Avant continued, "they're true. You're the real deal."
Oba's head snapped up quickly, looking absolutely flabbergasted at the statement.
"What?" he said, the disbelief slipping out before he could stop it. "What makes you—"
The second strike came from the side.
Avant's hand clipped him cleanly across the head, sharp and dismissive, stopping him mid-sentence as his head jerked slightly with the impact.
"I said remain quiet."
Oba grabbed the side of his head this time, teeth grinding as frustration flared again, but he didn't push forward. He stayed where he was, scowl deepening, shoulders tight. Avant didn't spare him another glance.
"You were right about one thing, Oba," he said, his voice steady. "Only Hemlock and I here have proper training in this group."
He paused briefly.
"I'm not an expert," he continued. "But I can sense it. To a degree. The magic within a man."
His hand lifted, slow and deliberate, before pointing directly at Kenta.
"But I don't need to be one to recognize when someone has a vast amount."
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"He has more magical power than everyone in this room combined."
The room shifted. Not loudly. Not all at once. But it moved. Shoulders stiffened, eyes narrowed, and quiet glances passed between men who hadn't fully believed until that moment forced them to reconsider.
Oba opened his mouth. Then closed it. He exhaled sharply through his nose, turning his head slightly with a quiet huff, the argument sitting there but not pushed forward. He stayed quiet.
Avant lowered his hand and turned back to Kenta, the shift immediate and complete.
"Whatever kind of training you're planning," he said, "I'm in. I'll do whatever it takes."
He stepped forward slightly.
"But on one condition."
Kenta's eyebrow lifted a bit higher, his head tilting just enough to acknowledge it.
"Oh? What's that?"
Avant didn't hesitate.
"There's a member of the Haven Syndicate I want," he said. "Captain Zeffer."
His gaze held steady.
"I want him to myself."