Chapter 238: Meeting (4)
The boardroom emptied like a battlefield after ceasefire.
No one raised their voice, but the silence carried more threat than any shouting ever could.
Papers rustled. Chairs scraped against the marble floor. The glass walls reflected the city’s skyline, a panorama of steel, smoke, and morning light, while inside, the predators moved in quiet, deliberate steps.
Merlin rose last.
He’d expected relief. He’d just walked through a den of corporate beasts and walked out alive. But instead, there was a strange stillness in his chest, the same kind that came before a storm.
Kael had already left through the side door, his aides falling in line behind him. Victor Draven followed with a sharp laugh, clapping Merlin’s shoulder hard enough to sting.
"Two hundred million," he said, still grinning. "Hah! You’ve got iron where most men have water. Don’t lose that, Everhart."
Merlin tilted his head slightly, a hint of a smirk touching his lips. "Wouldn’t dream of it."
"Good," Victor said, before walking off, his heavy boots echoing down the hall.
Helena Vos was next. Her perfume came before her voice, sharp jasmine and frost. She stopped near him, her high heels clicking against the stone, and studied him as if deciding whether to buy or sell him.
"You speak well for someone who’s never been bled by this world," she murmured. "But words and numbers don’t shield you forever."
Merlin’s gaze met hers, calm, unreadable. "They’ve gotten me this far."
Her lips curved, not in approval, but something close to it. "Then I’ll be waiting to see how far that ’clarity’ of yours goes before the fog rolls in."
And just like that, she left, trailing cold air and sharper intent.
Regina Hale lingered, flipping her tablet closed. "You know," she said, almost casually, "our R&D division’s budget has been throttled for six months. If you’re serious about your capital infusion... I might be willing to hear your proposal in detail."
Merlin’s brow lifted slightly. "Not here, I assume."
"No," she replied. "I’ll send you a secure channel. Tonight."
Her tone was matter-of-fact, but her eyes were different, faintly curious, faintly calculating. Then she turned and walked out, her heels tapping a rhythm that matched the pulse in his temple.
The rest of the board trickled away one by one, Elias Thorn whispering into his comm, Ophelia muttering to her assistant, Damien Cross vanishing quietly as though he’d never been there at all.
Until only Merlin remained.
He stood alone in the glass-walled chamber, the city sprawling endlessly beneath him.
For a moment, he let himself breathe.
He could see the reflection of his own eyes in the table’s silver inlay, calm, golden, unyielding.
’...This world keeps testing me,’ he thought, the corners of his lips tightening. ’The labyrinth, the gods, the academy... and now the wolves in suits.’
His phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
Merlin glanced down. The screen displayed a message:
"Basement Level 4 – Private Elevator. 5 minutes."
No name.
No company header.
Just that.
His fingers hovered over the screen. He didn’t need to guess who.
’Damien,’ he thought.
The man hadn’t left like the others, he had disappeared. A shadow, just as his title implied.
Merlin looked once more toward the skyline, exhaled, and left the room.
The elevator hummed softly as it descended.
Glass gave way to metal. The lights dimmed, the music quieted, until all that remained was the sound of machinery moving deep beneath Invoke Tower.
Basement Level 4. Restricted floors. The kind that didn’t exist on public schematics.
When the doors slid open, Merlin found himself stepping into a corridor lined with dark panels and faint blue light. It smelled faintly of oil and ozone.
A man stood waiting at the end of the hall, simple suit, ordinary face, forgettable build.
Damien Cross.
He smiled that same, faint, harmless smile.
"Mr. Everhart. You came."
Merlin stopped a few meters away. "I thought it might be rude to ignore an invitation."
"Politeness," Damien said softly, "is often the first step toward survival."
The two regarded each other in silence. The air here felt heavier, not with mana, but something else. A tension that had nothing to do with combat and everything to do with power.
"You made quite the impression today," Damien continued, hands sliding into his pockets. "Few people have walked into that room and walked out with Kael’s interest. Fewer still with their own ideas intact."
"I didn’t come to impress anyone," Merlin replied.
"Of course not," Damien said, amusement flickering faintly in his tone. "And yet, you did."
Merlin didn’t answer.
Damien took a slow step forward. His voice remained low, conversational, but every syllable landed with purpose.
"Kael isn’t your enemy. But he’s not your ally either. None of them are. They’re wolves who respect strength, and right now, they see you as a cub with claws sharp enough to scratch. That makes them curious. Curiosity... is dangerous."
Merlin’s eyes narrowed. "You brought me down here to warn me?"
Damien’s smile lingered. "Not exactly. I brought you here to offer something."
Merlin didn’t move. "...I’m listening."
The older man’s gaze shifted toward the corridor behind him, a set of steel doors, sealed tight with security runes.
"Invoke’s influence runs deeper than you think," Damien said quietly. "Beyond contracts. Beyond the board. You want design rights? Funding? Influence? You’ll need leverage. The kind money doesn’t buy."
"And you have it," Merlin said, not as a question but a statement.
Damien’s faint smile deepened just slightly. "I have access to it."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a sleek black access card, sliding it across a nearby console. The steel doors hissed, then opened.
Inside lay rows of weapon prototypes suspended in stasis, faint blue light tracing across glass casings. Guns, blades, hybrid devices powered by crystalline cores.
"These," Damien said, gesturing lightly, "are Invoke’s restricted developments. Projects too unstable, too powerful, or too politically inconvenient to release."
Merlin’s eyes flicked across the room. The designs were unlike anything he had seen in the novel.
This was new. Something not written.
Damien’s voice drew his attention back. "You want to build influence here? Learn who actually runs this empire, not the faces upstairs, but the hands that keep it clean. You fund R&D, yes. But if you also hold the leverage of knowledge..."
He let the rest hang in the air.
Merlin’s expression didn’t change. But his mind was already racing.
’This isn’t just business. He’s testing me. Maybe recruiting me.’
He turned to Damien. "And what do you want in return?"
Damien’s faint smile never wavered. "Nothing yet. Consider this... a courtesy. An introduction to the shadows you’ve stepped into."
Merlin studied him for a long moment.
"...You expect me to trust you?"
"No," Damien replied simply. "I expect you to remember this: in Invoke, trust is a myth. Leverage is truth."
With that, he turned and began walking toward the far exit. "You’ll receive a document later tonight. Read it. Decide if you want to keep playing on the surface... or learn the real game."
And then he was gone.
Merlin stood alone in the cold blue light of the underground vault, surrounded by silent weapons, dormant machines of destruction that hummed faintly beneath the glass.
He stared at them for a long time, his reflection glimmering faintly across their polished surfaces.
’...So that’s how it is.’
He exhaled slowly. His voice was a whisper in the empty room.
"They really are wolves."
He turned away, the soft hiss of the door closing behind him echoing like the end of a warning.
When the elevator doors opened again at the ground floor, morning had bled into afternoon. The city roared outside, alive and bright.
Merlin stepped out into the light, sliding his hands into his pockets.
He had walked into Invoke’s world as a name on a ledger.
Now, he walked out as something else, a piece on a board where kings and monsters played with money instead of blood.
And somewhere deep inside him, beneath the calm and the silence, a spark of anticipation flickered.
Because no matter how sharp the wolves’ teeth were, he’d already survived gods.
What were a few humans compared to that?
The sky over Lunaris City had begun to dim by the time Merlin stepped out of the Invoke Tower.
Evening light spilled over the skyline, painting the towers in streaks of gold and gray. The wind cut through his coat, crisp and real, carrying the smell of rain and machinery, a mix that always reminded him he wasn’t trapped in illusion anymore. The city was alive, chaotic, unforgiving. But it was real.
He walked for a while. No destination, just movement. The streets buzzed with life: vendors calling out near the plaza, the hum of hovercars overhead, people dressed sharp and bright beneath the floating advertisements. It was a far cry from the academy’s still air and marble halls.
He needed this noise, needed it to drown out the echo of Damien’s voice.
"Trust is a myth. Leverage is truth."
Merlin slipped his hands into his pockets. His reflection flashed across a shop window as he passed, gold eyes catching the dying light, face unreadable.
’Leverage,’ he thought. ’They’re all playing that game. Kael, Helena, Damien... every one of them hides teeth behind polite smiles.’
He stopped for a moment at a crosswalk, watching the red signal blink. ’But if that’s the game here... then I’ll learn it. Just like I did everything else.’
The signal changed. He crossed, boots clicking softly against the wet pavement.
By the time he reached his apartment complex, the lamps were flickering on one by one. Victoria’s favorite potted plants lined the windowsill, tiny flecks of green in the city’s glass-and-steel monotony. The familiarity of it, that small sign of warmth, was enough to ease the tightness in his shoulders.
He slipped inside quietly, careful not to wake her if she was asleep.
"Merlin?"
Her voice came from the living room, soft but alert. Of course she was still up. She always waited, even if she pretended not to.
Victoria looked up from the couch, wrapped in a blanket, a half-eaten slice of pizza resting on a plate beside her. The holo-screen flickered faintly, broadcasting some evening drama.
"You’re late," she said, though her tone was more concern than reprimand.
Merlin smiled faintly. "Board meeting ran long."
Her eyes widened slightly. "You actually went to that?"
"I did."
"...And?"
He shrugged, dropping his coat over the armrest and sitting beside her. "I survived."
Victoria blinked. Then laughed, soft and disbelieving. "That’s supposed to make me feel better?"
"Depends on your definition of better."
She nudged him with her shoulder, smiling despite herself. "You and your cryptic answers. You sound like one of those pompous businessmen on the news."