OP Absorption
Chapter 73: An Escort?

Chapter 73: An Escort?

He looked at her, truly looked at her. The Guildmaster. Jolly. The woman who’d shown him kindness, who seemed genuinely concerned. But the Association... Rowena... they wouldn’t stop. The lie was already fraying.

Trust her? How much?

His cores hummed quietly. The cold logic of the Mana Cell warred with a flicker of something else, something almost human.

He sighed, the sound weary, letting the carefully crafted mask slip just a little.

"Okay," he said, his voice losing some of its deliberate weakness. "The amnesia... it’s bullshit."

Jolly leaned forward, her eyes sharp, missing nothing. "I suspected as much. Tell me."

He recounted the mission. Hana’s focus on the artifact. The Queen. The overwhelming power. Hana’s betrayal, the sword through his chest.

He described absorbing the Mana Cell during the revival, though he framed it as a desperate, accidental fusion during his ’death’. He mentioned fighting the Queen, but heavily downplayed his dominance, implying a chaotic struggle where he somehow, miraculously, survived as the dungeon collapsed around him.

He left out the Admin entirely. Left out the erasure of the Queen, the Mark of Dominance, the pocket dimension. Left out the true scale of his power.

He needed her help, but full transparency? Too dangerous.

She listened intently, her expression shifting from concern to shock, then to grim understanding.

"A Mana Cell," she breathed when he finished. "Inside you." She stared at him as if seeing him for the first time. "No wonder the Association wants you. That thing... it’s beyond priceless. And volatile."

She shook her head. "And Hana... I can’t believe she’d..." Her voice trailed off. Betrayal. Murder. For an artifact. It sickened her.

"Fin," she said, her voice low and serious. "You understand the danger you’re in, right? The Association won’t stop until they have that Cell, or until they dissect you trying to figure out how you contained it."

She looked at him again, a different kind of unease settling in her eyes now. "And you lied. To the medics, to me... Your control is... frighteningly good."

He met her gaze, the blankness creeping back slightly. "Survival tactic."

"Maybe." She didn’t sound convinced.

He stood up, testing his legs. Still a bit stiff, but functional. "I need to deal with this. The Association."

"Deal with them?" She scoffed. "How?"

"I’ll go talk to them," he said, the plan forming with cold clarity. "Meet Rowena. Clear things up. Show them I’m not a threat, just a lucky survivor."

She shot to her feet, slamming her hand down on the desk. "Absolutely not! Are you insane? ’Clear things up’? Fin, they don’t do ’talking’! If you walk into their headquarters, you will never walk out again. They’ll strap you to a table so fast your head will spin!"

She glared at him, genuinely furious. "Don’t be an idiot! You can’t face them!"

He looked at her, standing defiantly behind her desk, trying to protect him.

He smirked.

A subtle shift. The air in the room grew heavy, cold. Pressure descended, not crushing like the Queen’s, but palpable, undeniable. Authority. Control.

Jolly froze, her hand instinctively dropping to the sword she didn’t wear in the office. Her eyes widened as she felt the shift, the sudden weight in the air focused entirely on her. Her breath caught.

The faint silver aura flickered around Fin, contained but immense.

"Is that you?" she whispered, the words escaping before she could stop them. Fear warred with astonishment.

He tilted his head, the smirk widening slightly, holding none of its previous warmth. Just cold power.

"...Yep."

His voice was quiet, carrying easily in the suddenly thick silence.

"Still think I wouldn’t come back?"

They stared at each other, the silver glow in Fin’s eyes pinning Jolly in place more effectively than any physical restraint. The pressure in the room didn’t crush, it simply was. Absolute.

She swallowed hard, her hand still hovering near where her sword would be. She saw the power. Immense. Terrifying.

But she also saw the control. The unnerving calm. And beneath that... she sensed vast depths still hidden.

He wasn’t showing her everything. Not even close. The dungeon story, the convenient gaps... he was still holding back, managing her perception just as he now managed the crushing pressure in the room.

With a long, slow exhale, the fight went out of her. Arguing was pointless. Ordering him was impossible.

She sank back into her chair, the sudden release of pressure making her feel weak.

"Alright," she sighed, rubbing her temples. The fierce Guildmaster replaced by a weary woman facing an impossible situation. "Alright. You win."

The silver light in his eyes faded, the pressure vanishing as if it had never been. He was just Fin again, standing there, expression neutral.

"You want to walk into the viper’s nest?" she continued, her voice tired. "Fine. I can’t stop you. But you are not going alone."

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t object.

"I’ll assign an A-rank escort," she stated firmly. "Someone experienced. Someone who knows Association protocols. They go with you, understand? Non-negotiable."

He considered it for a moment, the cold logic processing the variables. An escort could be a spy. Could be a hindrance. Could also be a useful witness, or a necessary sacrifice if things went bad.

"...Okay," he agreed simply.

"Good." She slumped further in her chair, suddenly looking much older. "Get out of here. I’ll make the arrangements. Go... recover. Properly this time."

He nodded once, turned, and walked out, his footsteps silent.

The door clicked shut behind him.

She stared at the closed door, the silence of the office pressing in. She lifted her hand, looking at the faint tremor that still lingered.

The sheer, controlled power he’d radiated... the coldness in his eyes... it wasn’t just strength gained from survival. It was transformation.

"What in the hell," she whispered to the empty room, the words rough with fear and disbelief, "happened to that boy?"

Back on the street, the city’s noise felt distant, muffled. He walked, letting the rhythm of his footsteps replace the frantic beat of the hospital escape. Jolly knew. The Association knew. Lies wouldn’t hold forever.

But first, Mara.

He found her office door closed, a rare sight. He knocked softly.

"Go away, I’m busy," her muffled voice snapped from within.

He opened the door anyway. She sat hunched over her desk, head in her hands, surrounded by teetering stacks of paperwork. She looked up, startled, eyes red-rimmed.

"Fin? What—? I thought you were resting."

"Change of plans." He didn’t elaborate on the hospital escape. No need. "Jolly knows. Association called her."

Her face went pale. "What? How?"

"They tracked the artifact, not me." He relayed the essentials of his conversation with Jolly – the confrontation, the flimsy cover story, the Association’s demand, Jolly’s reluctant agreement to buy him time, the mandatory escort. "She’s covering for now. But the meeting with the Association is happening. Soon."

She slumped back, running a hand through her already messy hair. "Dammit, Fin. This is bad. Really bad." She looked at him, truly looked, searching his face. "You seem... too calm about this."

"Do I?" The question was flat, detached.

"Yes." She frowned. "Too calm. Are you sure you’re ready for this?"

"Doesn’t matter if I’m ready," he said, turning towards the door. "It’s happening anyway. Need to handle this before they decide to handle me."

"Wait!" she called after him. "What about your escort? Jolly said—"

"Later," he cut her off without looking back. "Need air."

He left her sitting there amidst the scent of stale coffee and rising panic.

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