CHAPTER 56: AN ENTICING OFFER!

The walk back to the dormitories was exactly what Ren needed. Time to think. Time to process what had just happened and what it meant for his future as the only male weaver in recorded history.

He pulled out a small notebook from his cloak pocket, already mentally cataloging his weaknesses from the fight. His handwriting was steady despite his injuries as he walked.

’Stamina management - need better conditioning. Mind Path weaving - requires more practice, backlash too severe. Barrier techniques - study reinforcement patterns. Chain weapon mastery - explore weighted variations.’

The Mind Blast had been promising, but the toll it took on his mental sea was unsustainable. He’d need to find training methods that didn’t leave him vulnerable after a single use.

Still, he was sure that had the chain Mirabella wire around her neck not been an enchanted item with the ability to block mental attacks, he would have taken her by surprise and won.

Even the necklace had cracked from sustaining that attack and she had also spit blood!

It would have been his win for sure! But there was no point lamenting.

The problem was finding instructors willing to teach him. He couldn’t learn everything on his own. He needed personal and expert guidance.

But most female weavers still viewed him with suspicion or outright hostility so he would most likely have to achieve this benefit with money.

But overall, the current issue wasn’t his combat abilities. It was the political minefield he’d just stepped into as history’s greatest anomaly.

Mirabella’s offer hadn’t been spontaneous kindness. The Frostweave family was one of the most influential weaving dynasties in this Sovereignty.

Her decision to recruit the first male weaver had definitely been discussed, analyzed, approved by people much more powerful than either of them.

The question was why. What did they want from him?

Ren paused under a lamppost, tapping his pen against the notebook. As the sole male weaver, he represented either an unprecedented opportunity or an existential threat to the established order.

The Frostweave family could be trying to control him before other factions made their moves. Or they might want to study him, figure out what made him different from every other man who’d tried and failed to weave.

Worse, they might see him as a breeding asset. The thought made his jaw clench. If his abilities could be passed down, every major family would want to secure that bloodline for themselves.

He needed allies outside the Frostborne influence. Information networks. Backup plans. Most importantly, he needed to prove his value lay in more than just his genetic uniqueness.

"Ren!"

The voice cut through his strategizing. He looked up to see Lia jogging toward him, her black hair catching the lamplight as she moved.

Her green eyes were bright with excitement, completely at odds with his calculating mood.

"That was incredible!" she said, slightly breathless as she caught up to him.

"The way you adapted during the fight, revealing a second affinity in the middle of combat against someone using second-layer weaves. You just proved that male weavers aren’t just possible, they can be exceptional."

Ren closed his notebook and slipped it back into his cloak. "You don’t need to console me, Lia. I still lost."

"Console you?" She looked genuinely confused. "I’m not trying to console you. I’m telling you that you just changed everything. Do you understand what you did in there? You didn’t just fight Mirabella, you fought centuries of assumption about what men can and cannot do! You were awesome to be able to do this in less than a month!"

He studied her face. Lia had been one of the few people who’d treated him ’normally’ from the beginning, neither fawning over his uniqueness nor dismissing him as a freak. If she said he’d accomplished something significant, she meant it.

"Every weaver in that arena saw a man not just survive against elite-level techniques, but inspire under pressure," she continued as they walked. "You unleashed a Mind weave which is one of the hardest weaves for low ranked weavers in the middle of actual combat. That’s not just rare, Ren. That’s legendary."

"And still lost," Ren pointed out.

"So what?" Lia’s voice carried a hint of frustration. "You think the first female weavers won every battle when they were establishing themselves? Progress isn’t measured in single victories. It’s measured in proving what’s possible."

They walked in comfortable silence for a moment. Ren found himself appreciating her perspective. It was easy to get lost in the disappointment of defeat, but she was right about the broader implications.

Every demonstration of his abilities normalized the idea of male weavers.

"Besides," Lia said, her voice softer now, "the way you handled losing in front of everyone was... well, it was dignified. No excuses, no blame. Just acceptance and determination to improve. You represented yourself, and by extension all future male weavers, with honor."

Something in her tone made him glance at her. There was a warmth in her expression that went beyond professional respect.

An intensity that had nothing to do with his historical significance and everything to do with him as a person.

"You know," she said, looking straight ahead, "being the first of anything is a lonely burden. If there’s anything I can do to help you carry that weight, or if you need anything to remind you that you’re not just a symbol but a person too... I mean, anything at all..."

The offer hung in the air between them. Ren felt a shift in the atmosphere, a charge that had nothing to do with weaving energy. Lia’s cheeks had the faintest hint of color, and she was being unusually careful with her words.

His strategic mind immediately recognized the opportunity. The attraction that had been building between them for weeks was finally surfacing.

But more than that, she was offering something precious: the chance to be seen as just Ren, not the anomalous male weaver.

He could let the moment pass, maintain their current dynamic. Or he could push forward and claim something for himself, not for history or politics, but for his own desires.

Ren stopped walking. Lia took another step before realizing he’d halted, then turned to face him. The lamplight cast shadows across her features, making her green eyes seem to glow.

He closed the distance between them until they were barely a foot apart.

"Anything?" he asked, his voice low and deliberate.

The word seemed to electrify the space around them. Lia’s breath caught, her eyes widening slightly as the full weight of what she’d offered settled between them.

The sexual tension that had been simmering for weeks suddenly surged to the surface, undeniable and intense.

....