The Arena Master occupied a raised platform overlooking the fighting pit. And it looks like a throne. The man himself was enormous, easily six and a half feet of muscle and scars. His bare arms showed marks from a hundred fights, each one a story written in scar tissue.
"Hadeon Ravana." His voice rumbled like distant thunder. "The noble brat who grew some teeth."
I met his gaze steadily. Marcus had briefed me on the way over and he's the typical of show weakness here and you'd be eaten alive.
"Arena Master." I kept my voice level. "I hear you rent space to those who can afford it."
"To those who earn it." He leaned forward, studying me like a predator evaluating prey. "What makes you think you've earned anything?"
"I made Adrian Celestius work for his victory. Twice. Got a blade to his throat both times. First person to manage that in his entire academy career."
"Fighting skill." He waved dismissively. "That's baseline down here. Everyone can throw a punch. What else?"
"Information." I pulled out a pouch of gold, setting it on the table between us. "About Adrian's movements. His faction's plans. His backers' strategies. You maintain neutrality, but information has value to everyone."
The Arena Master didn't touch the pouch. His eyes remained fixed on mine.
"You'd spy on the academy's golden boy and feed me intelligence?"
"I'd share information that benefits us both. You run a business. I'm building something. Mutual advantage."
The silence stretched. His massive fingers drummed on his armrest, and that was the only movement on his otherwise still form.
Then he laughed. The sound echoed through the chamber, causing all conversations to pause momentarily.
"Five hundred gold for the first month. Plus ten percent of any business your people conduct through my territory."
"Five hundred gold. Five percent of business. And your people don't report my activities to Adrian's faction."
"Five hundred, seven percent, and I stay neutral, but I can't guarantee my people won't sell information if the price is right."
I considered. That was actually fair. Total neutrality was impossible down here. Everyone had a price.
"Deal." I extended my hand.
His grip could have crushed stone but I didn't flinch.
"Welcome to the Underground, Ravana. Try not to make me regret this."
☆☆▪︎▪︎☆☆
The space he showed us was perfect.
A converted storage chamber, large enough for meetings, private enough for planning. Stone walls thick enough to muffle conversations. Single reinforced door. No windows and defensible.
"It's not much," the Arena Master said, "but it's yours for the month. After that, we renegotiate based on how much trouble you cause me."
After he left, I walked the perimeter, checking sight lines and defensive positions. Damian did the same, his trained eye noting escape routes and potential vulnerabilities.
"It'll work," I decided finally. "Marcus, can you ward this place against eavesdropping?"
"Give me two hours and a thousand gold for materials."
"Done. Damian, no one enters without my permission."
"As you wish, Young Master."
I was about to continue when the door opened without warning.
A woman entered.
Blonde hair catching torchlight, expensive clothes that marks noble status, but she had that soft calculating eyes that screamed marchant. Isabella Frostvale, if I remembered correctly. Rich girl who Adrian had been exploiting for her family's business connections.
"Hadeon Ravana." She surveyed the bare room with a critical eye. "This is where the academy's newest troublemaker sets up shop?"
"Isabella Frostvale." I gestured to furniture that didn't exist yet. "Sorry, we're still moving in. What can I do for you?"
"I have a business proposal." She set her portfolio on the ground since there was no table. "But first, I need to know, are you serious about opposing Adrian Celestius, or is this wounded pride?"
[ANALYTICAL EYE: ISABELLA FROSTVALE]
[EMOTIONAL STATE: Calculating, Frustrated, Hopeful]
[MOTIVATION: Genuine business interest + tired of being used]
[TRUST IN ADRIAN: 30% (knows he's exploiting her)]
[RECRUITMENT POTENTIAL: 45%]
In the novel, Adrian had used Isabella's merchant connections ruthlessly while treating her as little more than a convenient bank and she'd played along, maintaining the facade of a supportive ally. But her eyes told a different story, they were sharp, analytical, and tired of games.
I need go get her. And I'll go straight to the point.
"I'm serious," I said. "Adrian sees people as resources to exploit. I prefer genuine partnerships."
"Easy words."
"True ones. I don't need your money, Isabella. I have family resources. What I need is expertise, someone who understands markets, supply chains, and building something sustainable."
She blinked, clearly not expecting that response. "You're not asking for funding?"
"No. I'm proposing a partnership. Equal investment, equal profit sharing, equal decision-making authority." I held her gaze. "Adrian treats you like a purse. I'll treat you like what you are, one of the smartest business minds in this academy."
For the first time, her professional mask cracked and surprise flickered across her face, followed by something that might have been respect.
"I'll need to review terms in detail."
"Of course. Take all the time you need. But think about this, how much longer do you want to be someone's resource instead of someone's partner?"
She stood, portfolio still closed. "I'll be in touch, Ravana. Don't disappoint me."
After she left, Marcus whistled low. "Smooth. She was expecting you to grovel for her money."
"Isabella's too intelligent for groveling. If she joins us, it'll be because she sees genuine value." I turned back to the empty room. "Which means we need to actually build something valuable."
Damian cleared his throat. "Young Master, there's something you should know. Adrian's faction has been making moves."
"What kind of moves?"
"Economic pressure. He's attempting to monopolize academy supply contracts. Training equipment, potion ingredients, spell components, anyone who doesn't support him gets priced out of essentials."
The pieces clicked together. Of course Adrian would leverage his hero status for business advantages. And anyone opposing him would face economic strangulation.
"That's why Isabella came to us," I said slowly. "She's being pressured too."
"Most likely, Young Master."
I was about to respond when the system blazed across my vision, red text filling my sight.
[WARNING: DEATH FLAG APPROACHING]
[POISON ASSASSINATION: ACCELERATED]
[ORIGINAL TIMELINE: CHAPTER 67]
[REASON: Your actions have changed the timeline]
[TIME REMAINING: 6 DAYS]
[PREPARATION CRITICAL]
My blood went cold.
I froze. What?
Six days until the assassination that should have been months away. By changing too much too quickly, I'd accelerated my own death sentence.
"Young Master?" Damian's voice seemed distant. "What's wrong?"
I forced myself to focus. Six days wasn't much, but it was something. I still have time to prepare. Time to turn a death trap into an opportunity.
"Damian, I need you to do something for me. Something important and dangerous."
"Anything, Young Master."
"I need you to pretend to betray me."
He stared. "What?"
"There's an assassin coming. In six days, someone's going to try to poison me at the Spring Festival." I met his eyes. "I need to catch them. But to do that, we need bait. We need them to think their plan is working."
"I won't even bother to ask you how you know all of this but you want to use yourself as bait?"
"I want to orchestrate a controlled scenario where we flush out the real threat. But it needs to look authentic." I pulled him and Marcus closer, lowering my voice. "Here's what we're going to do."
As I outlined the plan, one truth appears with perfect clarity, the game was accelerating faster than I'd expected and if I wanted to survive, I needed to move even faster.
[QUEST ISSUED: DEATH FLAG #4 - THE POISON PLOT]
[OBJECTIVE: Survive assassination attempt]
[BONUS OBJECTIVE: Capture assassin and reveal employer]
[TIME LIMIT: 6 DAYS]
[REWARD: ???]
Six days to prepare.
Six days to turn certain death into victory.
Time to show them what a real villain could do.