The sound intensified, deep and powerful, like a blacksmith hammering away at a block of iron. With every reverberation, David’s expression grew more serious.

  "...Was it truly wise to send Raileh away, young lord?"

  Zeke shook his head. "We are not trying to pick a fight. Besides, I have the utmost confidence in your ability to protect me if it comes to that."

  David turned his gaze back to the trembling prison and gave a wry smile. "I will do my best..."

  Finally, the metal could not take the punishment any longer, and parts of the internal structure gave way. Zeke winced inwardly at the destruction of such a remarkable piece of engineering. Still, he did not mourn its loss for long. He had little use for such a small chamber that accelerated the flow of time while cutting its occupant off from all Mana.

  More importantly, he had already obtained the blueprints of the arrays. Even now, Akasha was working through them, cataloguing and deciphering their full functionality.

  That was the true treasure, not the device itself.

  Zeke could already think of one way to use those enchantments once he fully understood how they worked. But that matter would have to wait.

  A pale hand emerged from the wreckage of the shattered prison, pushing a heavy iron plate aside.

  A tangle of purple hair appeared first. Then an eye of the same deep violet shade. It fixed on them, flicking quickly between Zeke and David.

  Before either of them could speak, an explosion of motion erupted from the heap of metal. Fragments were hurled in all directions like deadly projectiles.

  Zeke did not move. Instead, he condensed a thin layer of space in front of them. The debris struck it and bounced away as if hitting a solid wall.

  David sensed the move and did not interfere, leaving the defense to Zeke.

  With the debris cleared, the woman came fully into view.

  She had long purple hair that reached almost to the soles of her feet and hard eyes of the same color. She wore a simple robe, cleaner than those of the other prisoners, but far from luxurious. Even so, her haughty bearing and stern presence remained untouched.

  She looked like a princess wearing a peasant’s clothes for the first time, unable to hide her noble upbringing no matter how she dressed.

  Her gaze lingered on the invisible barrier for a moment, then slid past it and locked onto the two figures blocking the only exit.

  "Cur...sed... Hu...man...s," she rasped, her voice rough as sandpaper.

  "Yes," Zeke admitted. "We are humans."

  The woman lowered her stance, and Zeke felt the Mana in the room stir. No matter how often he witnessed it, the display of an Archmage's power still mesmerized him. It was like a whale drawing in water, draining the surrounding area of Mana with a single breath.

  "...But we are not the same as those who imprisoned you," he said quickly, before she could strike.

  She did not stop gathering Mana.

  "If you truly wish for revenge," Zeke continued calmly, "you will find his corpse over there." He nodded toward the fallen Geistreich.

  His tone remained even, as though there were no urgency at all. That, too, was deliberate. Despite the immense pressure radiating from her, he could not afford to sound desperate. Showing weakness would give her a sense of control, something he could not allow if he hoped to recruit her. If she saw them as prey, negotiations would become far more difficult.

  She continued drawing Mana, but Zeke noticed her glance toward the body. At the sight of it, her expression shifted rapidly. Surprise. Rage. Confusion. Glee.

  "Who are you?" she asked at last, her voice already steadier. It was deep for a woman, yet carried the melodic undertone typical of elves.

  "Where I come from," Zeke said slowly, "it is a sign of respect to introduce oneself first when asking another's name. That is especially true when facing one's benefactor, would you not agree, Lady Irisen?"

  At the sound of her name, the woman reacted. Her brows furrowed, and the steel in her eyes grew sharper. She clearly grasped the deeper meaning behind his words. She was at a complete disadvantage, not only in numbers and strength, but even more so in information.

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  And that disadvantage went far beyond her own identity.

  She had no idea how much time had passed in the outside world, nor what had become of her country or her people.

  For all she knew, Zeke could have been the new ruler of Rukia, standing atop the ruins left by an Ehrenlegion victory. Or he could have been part of an alliance that had arrived to save them.

  Zeke could only guess at the storm of thoughts racing through her mind. But in the end, it came down to two possible responses to her situation. One would be disappointing, ending in blind aggression. The other was...

  "I am Irisen, Flower of the East," she said. "Who am I facing?"

  ...diplomacy.

  Zeke smiled. He had hoped she was not the kind of brute who only knew how to react. Even so, he had expected as much. A woman like this was never going to be simple.

  Now, the only question was how skilled she truly was at politics and negotiation.

  "I am Ezekiel von Hohenheim."

  "...The merchant?" Irisen asked, her brows drawing together. "What would bring you to a place like this? Or am I no longer in Rukia? Was I sent to Tradespire?"

  Impressive.

  She not only knew his name, but also where he operated from. These days, he had become well known, so that alone was not remarkable. Still, it showed a solid grasp of current events.

  Zeke grinned. "Do I really look like a merchant to you?"

  "Yes," she replied without hesitation.

  "How so?"

  "...Hiding behind a hired bodyguard while talking big is exactly what merchants do, is it not?"

  Ouch. That one actually hurt.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Zeke noticed David's mouth curl slightly, which only made the jab sting more.

  Yet despite the bite of her words, they sparked an idea. Zeke's expression grew thoughtful as he carefully weighed the situation. He studied the woman before him, considering everything he had learned about her character so far.

  Was it worth the risk?

  The scales in his mind shifted, weighing danger against reward, before settling firmly on the side of benefit.

  "David," he said in a flat tone, as if the decision were casual. "You may go."

  David's expression, which had held a hint of amusement just moments ago, turned deathly serious. "Young lord, she is..."

  "I know," Zeke replied, already anticipating the objection. "You will have to trust me. Can you do that?"

  David hesitated for a heartbeat, his eyes locking onto Irisen with a silent promise of violence. Then he nodded once and turned away.

  "...Always, young lord."

  The room fell into deathly silence, the only sound left being David's fading footsteps down the corridor.

  When even that had vanished, Irisen spoke again. Instead of relaxing now that the only real threat had left, she seemed even more cautious.

  "...Why?" she asked at last. "You held all the cards, and now you are completely at my mercy."

  Zeke smiled warmly, without a trace of fear. "Am I?"

  "I can feel that space is locked. You cannot escape."

  "True."

  "You are far too weak to fight me on your own."

  "Also true."

  "Then what? What gives you the confidence to send your guard away?"

  Zeke spread his arms slightly, as if inviting an embrace. "Can you not feel my power?"

  Irisen focused, likely reaching out with her Mana sense, as if expecting him to reveal himself as some hidden Exarch finally showing his true strength. Naturally, nothing changed.

  "No," she said simply. "You seem rather mediocre."

  Ouch. She was not gentle with her words.

  Even so, Zeke's smile only widened. This was where things became interesting.

  "Then attack me," he said lightly. "Take me hostage and demand whatever you want. You could order my people around while holding this dagger to my neck." He gestured to the weapon at his waist.

  Irisen glanced at it for a moment before looking back at his face. Her expression barely shifted. She was clearly used to hiding her emotions. That, more than anything, made the subtle signs easier to read.

  Confusion. Doubt. Hesitation.

  Paradoxically, it was precisely because she was intelligent and aware of her position that her feet were now bound. With the limited information she had, it was impossible to judge the consequences of taking him hostage.

  Depending on the state of the war and Zeke's true standing in it, such an act could doom not only herself but even her family. And what comfort would it bring her to take his life afterward? She bore him no personal grudge that demanded revenge.

  For someone as rational as her, it was not a risk to be taken lightly, especially in the face of his unwavering confidence.

  This, too, was power.

  An invisible kind of power, one that could not be defended against, yet restrained her more tightly than any physical chains.

  "Can you feel it now?" Zeke asked again, sensing that she was beginning to understand.

  "...What do you want from me?"

  Another sharp question. She was catching on quickly. But he could also tell that her patience was wearing thin. That meant it was time to change his approach.

  A skilled fisherman knew that to catch a fish, one needed bait.

  Bait, and a hook.

  "Simple," Zeke said, wiping the grin from his face. "I want to recruit you."

  That made her freeze. Clearly, she had not expected such a direct answer. After all, he had been playing mind games from the moment he spoke.

  "Before I say anything else, you should also know that neither I nor my forces will stop you from leaving if you choose to do so. You are no prisoner, and I do not demand any reward for freeing you."

  To underline his words, Zeke stepped aside, leaving the path clearly open.

  "...What is the catch?" the woman asked, still not moving.

  "There is no catch," Zeke replied, "except that I will stop trying to recruit you."

  Irisen fixed her deep violet eyes on him, clearly trying to see through the trap she expected. Zeke did not react. He felt no pressure at all. There truly was no trap. If she chose to leave now, he would let her go.

  "...You are surprisingly straightforward all of a sudden," she said dryly. "Why?"

  Zeke shrugged. "My father always said one should be open and honest when pursuing a woman."

  Zeke did not expect the faint blush that rose to her cheeks. Almost as if to contradict it, her gaze hardened even further.

  "I am married."

  Zeke could not help but scoff. "Khaelryn, was it? I have to say, if your taste in men is any indication, then you are a terrible judge of character."

  Irisen glared at him. For an instant, he thought she might abandon restraint and attack. Then she reined herself in. "I will not tolerate slander against my husband, no matter how lacking he may be at times."

  Zeke studied her in silence. Her loyalty was admirable. Truly, the loyalty of a virtuous wife. Unfortunately, it was utterly wasted on a man who deserved none of it.

  Well... There was no point in delaying the inevitable.

  Time to rip the band-aid off.