CHAPTER 260: CHAPTER 260: THE BAD NEWS

Torwan sat reclined in his leather chair, a crystal glass of dark spirit in one hand and a stack of betting slips and ledgers spread before him. The muffled noise of the restaurant below was distant, almost nonexistent here.

A firm knock broke the quiet.

"Enter," Torwan said without looking up.

The door opened and his assistant stepped inside, closing it behind him. "We still have no trace of Tyria."

Torwan set his glass down with deliberate calm. "Explain."

"The search teams have swept every possible route she could’ve taken," the assistant said, stepping closer. "Our watchers in the city reported nothing. No sightings, no communications, nothing in any of the safehouses. It’s as if she vanished."

Torwan’s gaze lifted slowly, the firelight catching in his eyes. "And our people inside the academy?"

"They haven’t seen her either. Not a word, not a glimpse." The assistant’s voice tightened. "I’ve already doubled the payment offers for information. So far, no one is talking."

Torwan leaned back in his chair, one finger tapping idly against the armrest. "Ten years she’s been here under my direction, and now she disappears without a trace. You understand what that means."

The assistant hesitated. "Yes. If she’s gone, and if she talks—"

"—it’s not an if," Torwan cut in sharply, his tone dropping into something colder. "It’s when."

Silence settled between them, heavy and deliberate. Torwan reached for his drink again, swirling the amber liquid. "Tyria is not a luxury to lose. She knows too much. Find her."

"We’re working every angle," the assistant said quickly. "But... I also have something else you should hear."

Torwan’s brow furrowed slightly. "Then speak."

The assistant’s voice lowered. "Do you remember the student who defeated Tyria?"

Torwan’s brow creased, the fingers of his free hand drumming lightly against the desk. "Of course I remember. Noel Thorne. A promising talent. I considered bringing him to our academy, but Nicolas doesn’t want to give him."

The assistant gave a slow nod. "That’s the name. And... one of the representatives who came from the Estermont family to negotiate with us — had that same name."

Torwan’s drumming fingers stilled. "Coincidence," he said flatly, though the word lacked conviction.

"I thought so too at first," the assistant continued. "But the day the person beat Bone Crusher... it was that Noel."

Torwan’s gaze sharpened, the faintest shift in his posture betraying interest. "Go on."

"Since we finalized the agreement, they haven’t returned. And it seems he knew the match results ahead of time, he must have been aware Tyria would be using an enhancer."

Torwan leaned back slowly, the chair creaking under his weight. The flicker of the fireplace played over his face as he began to string the events together in his mind — Tyria’s loss, the envoy’s timing, the Estermont negotiations, and that boy’s calculated absence from his territory.

The corners of his mouth twitched downward. "I’ve been played."

The assistant didn’t speak.

Torwan rose abruptly, the glass on his desk tipping over and spilling dark liquid across a pile of betting slips. His fist slammed against the wooden surface, the sound echoing in the quiet office. "The nerve..." His voice was low but laced with venom. "To walk into my city, under my eyes, and make a fool of me."

He straightened, pacing a short line behind his desk. "Ensure his next match is his last. I don’t care how. Do you understand?"

The assistant’s nod was firm. "Yes, I understand."

"Good." Torwan’s gaze returned to the fire, the reflection of the flames dancing in his narrowed eyes. "Noel Thorne may be clever enough to deceive me once... but clever boys still can bleed."

Torwan pulled a folded sheet from the stack of tournament rosters on his desk. His eyes scanned the list until he found what he was looking for. "His next opponent..." A slow grin formed. "From our academy."

He set the page down, tapping it once with a finger before looking up at his assistant. "Give him the latest version of the enhancer."

The assistant blinked. "You mean the new formula? We haven’t run full trials yet. We don’t even know how it will—"

"I said," Torwan cut in sharply, his voice a blade, "use it."

The assistant straightened instinctively, the rest of his protest dying on his tongue. "Yes."

Torwan leaned back in his chair, the faint crackle of the fireplace underscoring his words. "I don’t care if it burns him out after the match. I don’t care if it cripples him for life. All that matters is that he wins tomorrow — and that Noel Thorne doesn’t walk out of that arena under his own power."

The assistant shifted uneasily. "The enhancer’s potency is... unpredictable. The subject’s mana channels might not withstand it."

"Then make sure he takes enough to last at least until the final bell," Torwan said without hesitation. "If the dwarf collapses after, that’s his problem."

For a moment, silence hung heavy between them, broken only when the assistant gave a curt nod and turned for the door.

As he reached for the handle, Torwan’s voice stopped him. "And make sure it’s administered in secret. If anyone asks, he’s been training harder. Understood?"

"Yes, Torwan."

The door closed behind him, leaving Torwan alone with the flickering light of the fire. He poured himself another drink, the glass catching the glow as he swirled it idly. His mind replayed Noel’s fights in the arena — his speed, his adaptability, the way he seemed to know exactly when to push and when to retreat.

A faint smile touched his lips. "Let’s see how clever you are when you’re staring down something you can’t predict, boy."

He took a slow sip, savoring the warmth, already picturing tomorrow’s match ending exactly the way he wanted.

The fire’s glow danced along the edges of Torwan’s desk as he set his glass down, the faint clink of crystal against wood cutting through the quiet. He was still thinking about the match, the dwarf, the enhancer, already seeing the moment Noel would fall.

The door opened without a knock.

Torwan’s expression darkened instantly. "I told you not to come back until—" He stopped mid-sentence, recognizing the figure that stepped through.

Tall, lean, and draped in dark layers that hung unevenly, the man’s presence seemed to distort the room. His eyes were unfocused, drifting from the walls to the ceiling to the fire as if seeing things no one else could. A faint, eerie smile tugged at his lips.

Torwan’s voice cooled to something far more careful. "What are you doing here?"

The man didn’t answer immediately. He wandered a slow, meandering path toward the desk, running his fingertips lightly along the back of a chair as if feeling its texture for the first time.

"You don’t have much time," he said finally, his tone almost casual — as if they were speaking about the weather.

Torwan’s brow furrowed. "And why do you say that?"

The smile widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "Because of that boy who tricked you."

Torwan’s fingers curled slightly on the desk. "Noel Thorne."

"I didn’t expect the great and intelligent Torwan..." The man’s head tilted at an unnatural angle, his gaze briefly sharpening. "...the brain of the Circle... to be played like this."

The words lingered in the air, heavy despite the almost playful tone.

Torwan didn’t respond immediately. He simply stared, the muscles in his jaw tightening. "Careful with your words."

A low chuckle escaped the man, though it sounded more like he was laughing at some private joke than at Torwan directly. "Careful?" He stepped closer, leaning just enough to let the flicker of the fire catch his face — revealing the sharp, restless gleam in his eyes. "I’m just telling you the truth."

Before Torwan could speak again, the First Pillar straightened and turned toward the door. "Tick, tock," he murmured, almost sing-song, before walking out without another glance.