"No more questions!" the thin man snapped, his patience fraying. "Give us the recipe. Now."
The dark-haired Ery remained perfectly calm. His voice, low and steady, cut through the tension like a blade.
"Wait. First, you said you wanted to buy it. Now you want to hand it over for free? Huh. I’d rather let the recipe die with . I assure you, I have ways to destroy myself so completely you won’t be able to pry a single mory from my corpse."
The thin man’s smile faltered. His greedy eyes flickered with anxiety. "No, no... wait. Let’s not be hasty. Fine—how much do you want?"
Ery tilted his head. "How much do you have... on you right now?"
At this, the grand magus who lood behind the thin man let out a snort of irritation. His aura flared, pressing like a stormfront against the room.
"He’s bluffing, boss. Let handle him."
But the thin man raised a hand. His greed overpowered his caution. He didn’t want to risk losing the recipe. "Three hundred million spirit stones, that’s all I have," he said finally. "That’s my offer."
A sneer tugged at Ery’s lips. "Three hundred million? For a tier eight recipe? You must be joking."
The remark lit a spark of killing intent in the grand magus’s eyes. Power shimred around his fists. The air thickened, and the lesser magus at the table shifted uneasily. Before things could erupt, Ery raised a hand, his tone calm but cutting.
"I see you’re not so petty thug. If your faction truly is as big as you claim, then surely you can back this with sothing solid. A Sealbond, perhaps?"
The word landed like a hamr. Sealbonds were no trivial matter—they were promissory contracts backed by the full weight of the issuing faction, recognized across the Alliance.
The thin man’s smile faltered, annoyance flashing in his eyes. He leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers against the table. "I am indeed an associate of the corporation. But my authority only stretches so far. At most, I can issue a bond worth five hundred million."
Ery’s lips tightened. Tier eight recipes could be worth a few billion; the offer was insultingly low. Yet he allowed himself a weary sigh, as though calculating, as though conceding under pressure.
"Fine. Add the three hundred million you carry and we’ll have a deal."
The grand magus bristled again. "Boss, don’t! This is..."
But the thin man silenced him with a flick of the hand, his greedy grin returning. "It’s fine. A deal it is."
With a flick of his hand, he summoned a shimring sheet of light into the air, sigils dancing across its surface. The Sealbond took shape quickly, hastily written but properly structured. It was a legitimate contract, one that could only be activated once the agreed condition was t: the delivery of a functioning tier eight recipe.
"Now," the thin man said, satisfaction dripping from his voice, "the recipe."
Every magus in the room sharpened their senses as Ery reached into his spatial ring. Their hands twitched toward weapons, ready to strike if he tried anything funny.
But Ery slowly drew out a clear crystal. Runes shimred faintly across its facets as he channeled a sliver of energy into it. A mont later, the crystal glowed with flowing inscriptions—the painstakingly etched formula of the [Dual Refinent Pill].
He said smoothly. "I’m sure you can tell for yourself whether it’s genuine."
The thin man snatched it up, pressing his spiritual sense into it. For a heartbeat, his expression blood with joy—until it crumbled into disbelief, then anger.
"What is this?! One third of these ingredients I’ve never even heard of! And this—this requires two grandmasters of opposite elents working in tandem? It’s nearly impossible!"
Ery’s expression never wavered. "It’s a tier eight recipe. Did you think it would be easy?"
The thin man’s composure shattered. Fury burned in his eyes. As Ery had predicted, the man’s agreent had always been a veil. Behind it lay the simple confidence that once the recipe was in hand, Ery could be disposed of. At his slightest motion, the grand magus and the other enforcers shifted, ready to strike.
But Ery raised his hands, voice hurried and fearful. "Wait!! I... I have the rare material for it. Just... Please—don’t kill "
Greed snapped the thin man’s patience back into focus. "Show ," he demanded.
Slowly, deliberately, Ery reached back into his ring. His motions were sluggish, as if to reassure them he wasn’t plotting anything reckless. What erged was a small sphere, no larger than half his palm, swirling with faint motes of energy.
Every eye locked on it.
Then, with a casual flick, Ery tossed it high into the air. Instinctively, every magus followed its arc.
That single instant was all he needed.
His hand flashed, snatching the Sealbond in one swift motion, and the space around him rippled. His body blurred into nothingness, vanishing through a tear of spatial magic.
"What—!" the thin man shouted
The hovering sphere cracked open. A pulse of destructive energy radiated outward. The grand magus’s eyes went wide with recognition.
"No—scatter! It’s a—"
KABOOM!!
The explosion swallowed the chamber in fire and shockwaves. Walls split, windows shattered, and the entire building quaked under the force. Shouts and screams erupted from outside as smoke and debris poured into the streets.
Through the chaos, a single figure strolled away from the smoldering ruin. His dark hair swayed in the breeze, his face calm, even amused, as if he had just left a theater rather than a battlefield. The faintest of smiles lingered on his lips.
He didn’t get far, though. The station guards, alard by the explosion, were already swarming and closing in around him.
He simply raised his hands in mock surrender, still smiling as the smoke from his trap roiled behind him.
#####
Both situations with Ery’s dark and light avatars happened at the sa ti, just as he had finished spending hours handing over his data and explaining it to the Arbor Master. Fortunately, it took little effort for both avatars to send ssages back to him, and both gave him quite a headache.
At that very mont, the door to the secure research lab opened, and a figure stepped inside. It was the Prefect himself, arriving to personally confirm the newfound data Ery had delivered.
The Prefect looked completely satisfied, even grateful, "Thank you... You’ve done the station a great favor. If there is anything we can do..."
Ery straightened, forcing a smile "Actually, there is..."
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