My Job? Weaving Armour For Undead In Apocalypse

"I haven’t seen this before."

The moment the words left Merek’s mouth, he caught it, the brief flicker of surprise across Professor David’s face. Felicity shifted where she sat, and even Nero’s expression tightened slightly.

They had clearly expected him to know.

A beat of silence passed.

"Might be something good," Fred muttered from the corner, arms crossed. The tension in the room snapped.

Merek slowly turned to look at him. His voice was calm, but the steel in it was unmistakable.

"If it is, you won’t touch it. Not until you’ve earned your keep." He paused, letting the words land. "Do that, and you’ll have a place in this room. But next time..." Merek’s gaze sharpened, "...don’t enter here."

Fred’s jaw tightened. His face twisted, teeth clenched so hard the muscle in his cheek jumped. His fingers twitched around the grip of his metal bat. Rage simmered just beneath his skin.

Yuki stepped forward, sliding between Fred and Merek like a guillotine being lowered. Her armor clinked softly with the movement. Behind the vertical slits of her helm, her glowing white orbs flared, almost hungry for an excuse to end a threat.

Fred flinched but said nothing. The pressure in the room became suffocating.

Then Merek reached forward and picked up the purple orb. With a light squeeze, it shattered, releasing a burst of glowing violet embers that drifted into the air like dying stars.