OP Absorption
Chapter 72: Next Step

Chapter 72: Next Step

The Guild lobby buzzed, louder than usual. Or maybe it just felt that way because every head seemed to turn when Fin walked through the double doors the next morning. Whispers followed him like shadows.

"Is that him?"

"Carver? No way he’s walking already..."

"Looked like death warmed over yesterday."

"Heard the whole team got wiped... how’d he survive?"

"Amnesia, they’re saying. Convenient, right?"

Fin kept his gaze forward, his expression carefully neutral, projecting weary confusion. Inside, his cores were hard at work, his body almost fully repaired. He ignored the stares, the muttered speculation.

’Let them talk,’ he thought, the cold logic overriding any embarrassment. ’Suspicion is better than dissection.’

He spotted Lila leaning against a pillar, talking animatedly with another swordsman. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw him. Excusing herself, she pushed through the small crowd gathering near the mission board and walked straight towards him.

"Fin?" She stopped a few feet away, scanning him up and down, concern clear on her face despite her usual bluntness. "You’re... upright. How are you feeling?"

"Like I wrestled a truck and lost," he said, injecting a convincing weariness into his voice. He offered a weak smile. "Still fuzzy. But better."

She nodded slowly, unconvinced but playing along for now. "Yeah, well... glad you didn’t kick it." She lowered her voice slightly, glancing around at the whispering onlookers. "Look, people are talking. The whole ’amnesia survivor’ thing... some aren’t buying it."

"Let them talk," he mumbled, looking down as if overwhelmed.

"Yeah," she agreed, punching his arm lightly, careful to avoid any bandaged areas he might have. "That’s the spirit. Screw ’em. Just... watch your back, okay? Guild’s weird when things don’t add up."

"Thanks," he said, meeting her eyes briefly, trying to convey gratitude without revealing the calculation behind his own.

"Anytime," she replied gruffly. "Get some rest. You still look like crap." She turned and rejoined her companion, leaving him standing alone again amidst the sea of curious and suspicious eyes.

He took a breath and started walking towards Mara’s office area. He needed to report in, maintain the facade.

---

"Fin, sweetie! Back on your feet already?"

Juna appeared seemingly out of nowhere, blocking his path with her usual dazzling smile and confident posture. Today she wore practical Hunter gear, but somehow made it look like high fashion.

He blinked, forcing the amnesiac confusion back onto his face. "Uh... hi?"

"Juna," she supplied helpfully, tapping a finger against her chin as she looked him over. "You look surprisingly well for someone who supposedly tangled with whatever wiped out Hana’s crew." Her eyes sparkled with amusement and something else... sharp curiosity.

"I... guess?" he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Don’t worry your pretty little head," she purred, leaning slightly closer. "Word is the Guildmaster wants a chat. Come on, I’ll walk you over. Wouldn’t want you getting lost in your ’confused’ state."

She winked and turned, leading the way down the corridor towards the upper administrative levels, her hips swaying confidently. He followed silently, acutely aware of her perceptive gaze and the feeling that she, like Mara, saw more than she let on.

---

She stopped outside the familiar polished door to the Guildmaster’s office. "In you go, sweetie. Try not to faint this time." She gave him another wink and sauntered away.

He hesitated for only a second, smoothed his expression into one of weary vulnerability, and knocked softly.

"Come in," Jolly’s familiar voice called out.

He pushed the door open and stepped inside. The office was the same – organized, imposing, the large window showing a grey, drizzly city skyline. Jolly sat behind her desk, frowning at a stack of dungeon incident reports. She looked up as he entered, her expression softening instantly with genuine concern.

"Fin!" She stood, rounding the desk quickly. "You shouldn’t be up! The medics said—"

"I’m okay, Mrs. Jolly," he interrupted gently, offering a weak smile. "Just wanted to... report in, I guess. Though I don’t remember..." He let his voice trail off, shaking his head slightly.

She guided him to the chair opposite her desk, concern etched on her face. "Sit, sit. Don’t push yourself." She returned to her own chair, studying him carefully. "How are you feeling? Honestly?"

"Tired," he admitted, rubbing his temples. "Confused. They told me Hana... the team... they didn’t..."

"No," she confirmed, her voice heavy. "They didn’t make it back. You’re the only one."

He looked down at his hands, letting silence hang for a moment. "I don’t understand how. I try to remember, but it’s just... blank. Like a wall." He looked up, forcing frustration into his voice. "It’s driving me crazy! What happened in there?"

She sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Trauma does strange things. The mind protects itself. Right now, remembering might do more harm than good." She leaned forward again, her gaze serious. "The important thing is you’re alive. Your survival, given the circumstances... it’s astonishing."

"Doesn’t feel astonishing," he mumbled. "Feels like I failed them."

"You didn’t fail anyone," she said firmly. "Whatever happened in that dungeon, it wasn’t your fault. Focus on recovery. That’s your only mission right now."

He nodded slowly, letting his shoulders slump slightly. "Okay."

"Good." She offered a reassuring smile. "The Guild will support your recovery. Therapy, medical leave... whatever you need. We look after our own."

He met her gaze, holding the look of a lost, damaged Hunter.

"Thank you, Guildmaster," he said softly.

’But,’ he looked at her, ’why is she acting so nice to me, the first time we met she was cold, is it because of the zombie dungeon?’

He was not wrong but at the same time, no right, Jolly’s whole vibe changed. "So, how about we get down to business, the real reason why I called you here." She looked at him, that fierce and cold look was back in her eyes.

"I received a call from the association last night, they say you have something of theirs, a mana cell."

His carefully maintained facade cracked for just an instant. A flicker of surprise crossed his features before he quickly reassembled the mask of confused vulnerability.

"A mana... what?" he asked, voice deliberately weak. "I don’t understand."

Her eyes narrowed, studying him with the cold precision of a predator. The motherly concern had vanished completely.

"A Mana Cell," she repeated slowly, watching his reaction. "An extremely rare and valuable artifact that the Association claims you’ve somehow... absorbed." She leaned forward, her hands clasped tight on the desk. "They seem quite interested in how a D-rank Hunter survived something that should have atomized you on contact."

He let his gaze drift downward, as if overwhelmed. His mind raced behind the mask of confusion. The Association had contacted the Guild directly. Rowena hadn’t wasted any time after her failed attempt at his house.

"I don’t know anything about artifacts," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair in apparent frustration. "I told you, I can’t remember what happened in there!"

Jolly’s expression remained unchanged, skepticism radiating from her in waves. "That’s interesting," she said, her tone casual but laced with steel. "Because the Association’s equipment detected an extremely powerful energy signature emanating from your body." She tilted her head slightly. "Care to explain that?"

He looked up, injecting a note of fear into his expression. "What are you saying? That I’m... contaminated?"

She sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Fin, I’m going to be direct with you. The Association wants to take you into custody for ’observation and testing.’ They believe whatever happened in that dungeon makes you a subject of interest."

His heart beat faster, but not from fear—from calculation. "Take me? But I work for the Guild!"

"And technically, the Guild answers to the Association," she replied evenly. "In matters of dungeon security and artifacts, their authority supersedes ours."

She stood, moving to the window. "However," she continued, her back to him, "I’m not in the habit of handing over my Hunters without cause."

He remained silent, watching her carefully.

"I told them I’d need more than energy readings and suspicions," she said, turning back to face him. "I need proof before I surrender a traumatized Hunter to their... methods."

A flicker of something—disgust?—crossed her face as she mentioned the Association’s "methods."

"So," she continued, returning to her seat, "you have a choice. You can tell me what really happened in that dungeon—what you remember—and I can help you navigate this situation. Or," her voice hardened, "you can maintain this amnesia act, and I’ll have no choice but to comply with the Association’s request."

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken threats and calculations.

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