OP Absorption
Chapter 68: Association

Chapter 68: Association

Castle Varn sat like a shard of obsidian against the bruised twilight sky.

Inside, the air was still and cool, smelling faintly of old stone and expensive, exotic tea. Polished black marble floors reflected the light filtering through high, narrow windows.

Ery moved with silent grace, her steps making no sound. She poured steaming amber liquid into a delicate porcelain cup, the faint clink echoing in the cavernous chamber.

Lord Varn sat impassive in a high-backed chair carved from petrified wood, his fingers steepled before him, eyes closed as if in meditation. Waiting.

Then, the faintest whisper of disturbed air.

Scarlet materialized near the grand entrance, melting from shadows that weren’t there a moment before. She stumbled slightly, catching herself before she fell. Her usual predatory poise was fractured, replaced by a hurried, almost desperate energy she fought to conceal. Her cloak was damp, clinging slightly, her breathing faster than usual.

She straightened instantly, smoothing her attire, forcing composure onto her features. She swept forward, stopping a respectful distance from her lord.

She knelt low, head bowed. "My Lord."

Varn’s eyes opened slowly. They held no warmth, only cold, ancient power. "You return empty-handed." It wasn’t a question.

She kept her gaze fixed on the floor. "Forgive me, Lord Varn. The target... he proved more complicated than anticipated."

"Complicated?" His voice remained level, yet carried an edge that made Scarlet flinch internally. "You were tasked to retrieve the boy. Dead or alive. A simple matter for one of your talents."

"He... he isn’t just a boy anymore, my Lord." She hesitated, the memory of Fin’s chilling speed, the feeling of his senses almost locking onto her, making her blood run cold. "There was something... wrong."

He raised a single eyebrow. "Explain."

"His power," she forced the words out, keeping her voice steady despite the tremor threatening it. "When I observed him after... after the dungeon collapsed... the energy signature was vastly different. Amplified. Changed."

She risked a glance up, meeting his piercing gaze. "It felt... familiar, my Lord."

"Familiar?"

"Like yours," she whispered, the admission hanging heavy in the silent hall. "The presence... the resonance... it felt like the power of a King."

Silence descended. Ery paused in her pouring, her own gaze fixed on her master.

He remained perfectly still for a long moment. The only movement was the slight narrowing of his eyes, a flicker of genuine interest breaking through the glacial calm.

A King?

"Intriguing," he murmured, the word barely audible. "How could a mere human whelp acquire such a thing? And so quickly?" He tapped a thoughtful finger against his chin. "What happened in that dungeon?"

He looked back down at Scarlet, his gaze sharp. "Continue your observation. Report everything."

Her heart clenched. Go back? Near him? The memory of his senses almost finding her, the sheer wrongness of his power... terror coiled in her gut. He felt her. He almost located her. Next time...

But refusal was death. Varn’s displeasure was a slow, agonizing demise. Showing fear was weakness, and weakness was punished.

She bowed her head lower, pressing her forehead almost to the cold floor. "As you command, my Lord." Her voice was a perfect mask of obedience.

"You may leave."

She rose fluidly, betraying none of the trembling in her limbs, and melted back into the shadows, gone as quickly as she had appeared. The relief of escape was quickly soured by the dread of return.

Ery finished pouring the tea, placing the pot silently back on its silver tray. She glanced at Varn, her expression carefully neutral.

"My Lord," she ventured softly. "The Silver Core the boy possessed... Do you still wish for its acquisition?"

He picked up his teacup, the porcelain almost invisible against his fingers. He brought it to his lips, inhaling the fragrant steam.

He took a slow, deliberate sip.

He did not answer.

The silence stretched, filled only by the vast, cold emptiness of the castle and the unspoken thoughts of its master.

---

Faint, warm light pulsed against Fin’s skin. Healers murmured incantations, their hands hovering over his bandaged torso. Green tendrils of mana sank into him, knitting bone, sealing simulated wounds.

He felt... nothing.

Not the soothing relief of pain fading. Just warmth. Data streams updating. Damage repair initiated. Bone fractures: 78% stabilized. Internal hemorrhaging simulation: ceased.

The healers exchanged weary glances. "His vitality is astonishing," one muttered. "Resisting the deeper trauma shock somehow."

"Lucky kid," the other agreed, wiping sweat from his brow. "Never seen injuries like this on someone still breathing, let alone recovering this fast."

They finished their work, pulling back the warm light. "Rest now, Hunter Fin. Don’t push yourself."

They left, their footsteps fading down the sterile corridor.

He stared at the ceiling. Lucky? Miraculous? He almost scoffed. It was all calculated.

The door opened softly. Mara slipped in, looking exhausted. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, deeper than just lack of sleep. She carried a flimsy cup of hospital coffee.

She pulled a chair close to the bed, sinking into it with a sigh. "You look like hell," she said, her voice rough.

"Says you. Anyways, mission accomplished," he replied.

She stared at him, taking in the bandages, the IV drip, the carefully applied pallor he maintained. "Fin, this is... crazy. Completely insane. You broke your own bones. You could have actually died."

"Minor risk," he said. The memory of the Queen’s power, the Admin’s snap, flashed through his mind. Broken bones felt trivial now.

"Minor risk?" She leaned forward, voice hushed but intense. "You call multiple fractures and simulated internal bleeding a ’minor risk’? What happened to you in there? What really happened?"

He met her gaze, the cube pupils hidden behind normal irises, but the emptiness remained. "I told you. Hana betrayed us. The team died. I got lucky."

"Lucky doesn’t look like this," she insisted, gesturing at his bandages. "Lucky doesn’t feel... cold." She shivered slightly, though the room was warm. "You’re different."

"Power changes people," he recited her own words back at her, the echo chilling.

She slumped back, running a hand over her face. "Okay. Okay, the story holds for now. The medics bought the amnesia. Command is calling it a miracle survival." She took a shaky sip of coffee. "But Fin... this path you’re on? Pretending, lying... it’s dangerous."

"Less dangerous than the truth," he stated flatly.

A sharp rap echoed from the door.

They both looked up, startled. Mara frowned. "Visiting hours are over..."

The door swung open smoothly.

Fin’s internal systems registered an immediate alert. Threat recognition. A familiar signature.

The woman from the medical tent stood there. The Association. But the crisp white suit was gone.

She wore a dress. Simple, elegant, deep crimson silk that clung to her figure. Her dark hair was styled differently, softer around her face. She looked less like an official, more like... nobility attending a somber event.

Yet the eyes were the same. Sharp, analytical, holding an unsettling depth. And the faint smile playing on her lips held no warmth.

She nodded politely at Mara, the gesture dripping with condescending authority. "Secretary Mara. Your presence is no longer required here."

Mara stood, startled by the woman’s sudden appearance and commanding tone. "Why are you here? This is a restricted recovery room—"

"Your concern is noted," she interrupted smoothly, her gaze never leaving Fin. "But my business is with Hunter Carver. Alone." She took a step into the room, her presence filling the small space, displacing the sterile hospital air with something cold. "Now."

Mara hesitated, looking from the imposing woman to Fin lying pale in the bed. Concern warred with intimidation.

"Go," he said quietly, his eyes fixed on the woman.

She glanced at him, searching his face, then reluctantly nodded. She gave the woman a wide berth as she hurried out, closing the door softly behind her.

The lock clicked shut electronically.

Silence settled. Fin watched the woman approach his bed. The air crackled faintly, a subtle pressure building.

She stopped beside his bed, looking down at him, her smile widening slightly but it didn’t reach her eyes.

"We meet again." Her voice was soft, melodic, utterly chilling.

"Shall we have a talk?"