The morning after the revelation with Marcus was… different.

When I walked down into the common hall for breakfast, the usual background anxiety was gone.

The heavy, isolating weight of my secrets still existed, but it was no longer a burden I carried in absolute solitude.

Across the room, Marcus was already sipping a cup of tea, his posture straight, his movements economical.

He wasn't the hot-headed C+ hunter my father thought he was; he was a cultivator, serene and contained.

He met my gaze. A simple, subtle nod passed between us. We see each other. The pact holds.

That silent acknowledgment was more grounding than any alliance or contract. It was a shared reality.

My mother, Lilly, bustled out of the kitchen, blissfully unaware, chiding Marcus for "meditating instead of eating" and handing him a plate of food. He accepted it with a gentle, patient smile that was entirely genuine. He was playing his part, just as I was playing mine.

"Michael," my father, Darius, called out, his voice still carrying the boom of last night's victory celebration.

"You're up. Good. I want you to rest today, but Victor Arkwright will be here this afternoon to finalize the partnership with the Dawn Guild. I need you present. As our reigning champion."

He clapped me on the shoulder, his pride a tangible force. The man who had looked at me with worried skepticism just a week ago now looked at me like I was the guild's rising sun.

"I'll be there," I said, forcing a normal, dutiful son's smile. "But I have an errand to run in the city first. Personal business."

"Of course, of course!" he said, waving me off. "Take your time."

The power dynamic in the family had irrevocably shifted. I was no longer just the Academy student; I was the architect of their salvation. And with that came a new, unspoken freedom.

The Weaver's District was quiet in the late morning, the usual bustle of merchants subdued. The air smelled of drying ink and the faint, dusty aroma of woven fabrics.

I walked the familiar cobblestone path to the Thorne workshop, my steps measured, my mind calm. The gnawing anxiety I'd felt when I delivered the elixir was gone, replaced by a quiet, hopeful anticipation.

I knocked on the heavy wooden door, the sound echoing softly in the quiet street.

I waited. One second. Two.

The door was suddenly flung open, not with the hesitant fear I'd seen before, but with a frantic, joyful energy.

"Michael!"

Elina Thorne stood in the doorway, her face a mess, but in the best way possible.

Her brown hair was unkempt, her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, and she was smiling so hard it looked like it might crack her face. She was, I realized, the most beautiful I had ever seen her.

Before I could even say "hello," she launched herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck in a desperate, trembling hug.

"He's awake, Michael," she sobbed into my shoulder, her voice muffled by my tunic. "He's… he's walking."

I froze for a moment, stunned by the sudden contact, before awkwardly patting her back. "That's… Elina, that's incredible news."

"Come in, come in," she said, pulling back, hastily wiping the tears from her cheeks.

She was vibrating with a joy that was almost painful to watch. "He wants to see you. He's been asking for you since he woke up."

She dragged me by the hand through the familiar, cluttered workshop, past tables covered in carving tools, half-finished rune-stones, and scrolls of parchment. The smell of ink and carving dust was still there, but the oppressive, sickly air of despair had vanished.

She led me to the small living quarters at the back. And my breath caught in my throat.

Master Thorne was not in his bed.

He was sitting at his workbench by the window, bathed in a shaft of morning sunlight. He was still gaunt, the illness having taken a severe toll, but the deathly grey pallor was gone, replaced by a healthy, if tired, flush.

His eyes, once dull and lost, were now sharp, clear, and focused.

He was carving.

His hands, the same hands Elina had described as trembling so badly he couldn't hold a spoon, were now moving with a slow, deliberate, and perfectly steady grace. A small, intricate rune of "Clarity" was taking shape on a piece of polished obsidian.

He looked up as we entered. His movements were stiff, his body still weak, but he placed his carving tool down and, gripping the edge of the workbench, slowly, painfully, pushed himself to his feet.

Elina gasped, rushing to his side, but he held up a hand, silencing her. He stood tall, his gaze fixed on me. It was an intense, piercing gaze that saw far more than a simple student.

"Elina," Master Thorne's voice was raspy from disuse, but it held the iron of a man who had wrestled with death and won.

"Leave us. I would speak with our guest. Alone."

"But Father, you should be resting—"

"I am fine, child. Please."

Elina hesitated, her gaze torn between her father's command and her worry. She looked at me, and I gave a subtle nod. She relented, squeezing her father's arm before backing out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.

The silence that filled the room was heavy. Master Thorne just looked at me, his eyes—the eyes of a master rune-scribe who saw the world in patterns of mana and logic—analyzing me.

"That," he said finally, his voice gaining strength, "was not a 'merchant's remedy.' That was Sunpetal Dew Elixir. One of the lost concoctions, spoken of only in pre-war alchemical texts."

I kept my face neutral, but my heart hammered. He knew. Of course he knew. A man of his knowledge wouldn't be fooled by my flimsy lie.

"I have no idea where you acquired it, Michael Willson," Thorne continued, his gaze unwavering.

"And I will not ask. Such miracles are almost always bought with secrets that are heavier than gold. To ask would be to disrespect the price you paid, whatever it was."

He took a slow, steady step forward, his balance firm.

"You did not just save my life," he said, his voice thick with a profound, humbling gravity.

"You saved my hands. You saved my skill. You saved my legacy. You saved my daughter from a life of grief. This is not a simple debt."

He stopped in front of me, his eyes clear and resolute.

"A debt of life cannot be repaid with coin. It can only be repaid with loyalty. From this day, Michael Willson, the skills of House Thorne are yours. "

"My knowledge of runes, my analysis of enchantments, my contacts within the artisan and merchant guilds… they are yours to command. Elina, my apprentice, will be your eyes and ears in this city. We are, in all things, sworn to your service."

He bowed. Not a simple nod, but a deep, formal bow of fealty. From a master craftsman to a fifteen-year-old boy.

I felt a jolt, a mixture of shock and a strange, cold thrill. This was more than I had bargained for. This was an unbreakable vow.

"Master Thorne, please," I said, quickly moving to help him straighten. "You don't have to do this. I just helped a friend."

"You did more than that," he insisted, straightening up, his gaze like steel.

"You gave me back my future. And now, I will help you build yours. Do not refuse this, boy. It is the only payment I have left to give that holds any real worth."

I looked into his steady, unyielding eyes and saw the truth.

To refuse his oath would be to cheapen the miracle I had given him, to insult his honor. This was how his world, the world of old-world artisans and masters, worked.

I exhaled slowly and gave a single, sharp nod of my own. "…Then I accept, Master Thorne. And I am honored."

"Good," he said, the tension leaving his shoulders. A small, genuine smile touched his lips.

"Now, sit. Tell me... what do you know of runic amplifiers? I suspect the theory they teach at the Academy is woefully... incomplete."

I had just secured my first true, local, and incredibly skilled allies. The "Scholar" piece was now on my board.

____________

I returned to the Willson Guild Hall just after noon, my mind buzzing with the implications of my new alliance with the Thornes.

Master Thorne's knowledge of runes, especially ancient and obscure ones, was a resource I hadn't even factored into my plans. It was a trump card of immense value.

The common hall was already set up for the official meeting. The mood was electric, a complete 180 from the despair of two days ago.

My father and mother, dressed in their best (though still modest) formal attire, stood at the head of the room. Marcus stood behind them like a silent guardian, his presence calm and centered.

The heavy doors opened, and Victor Arkwright strode in, his suit sharp, his grin manic. He was followed by the Dawn Guild delegation: Chairman Denzo Smith, his face a mask of gruff

professionalism; Suzi Weillse, her crystal slate already glowing; and Mike, the B-Rank hunter, who looked slightly uncomfortable in a formal suit.

"Guild Master Willson! A pleasure!" Victor boomed, shaking my father's hand with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm.

"Chairman Smith," my father greeted Denzo, clasping his forearm in a formal hunter's grip. "Welcome to my guild. We are... honored by your proposal."

"The honor is ours," Denzo replied, his voice a gravelly rumble.

He glanced around the worn but clean hall, his eyes noting the repaired weapon racks, the new mission postings, and the invigorated look on the faces of the Willson Guild members.

"You run a tight ship. This is a good foundation."

Suzi and Victor, the architects of the deal, took over. The contracts were unfurled on the main table—gleaming, magically-infused parchment that hummed with binding magic.

"The terms, as discussed," Victor announced, projecting a holographic summary for all to see.

"Aegis Holdings, on this day, assumes and pays in full the 95 million Ren debt of the Willson Guild."

A collective gasp and murmur of wonder went through my guild members.

"In exchange," Victor continued, "Aegis Holdings receives a 40% equity share in the Willson Guild, effective immediately."

Darius visibly tensed, the price of his salvation laid bare.

"Furthermore," Suzi cut in, her voice all business,

"the Dawn Guild, represented by Chairman Denzo Smith, hereby enters into a formal Strategic Partnership with the Willson Guild. This partnership includes shared training protocols for junior members, priority access to Dawn Guild's resource and logistics network, and collaborative fulfillment of all C-Rank and D-Rank contracts within the Selorn regional territory, with profits split 60-40 in favor of the fulfilling guild."

It was a brilliant deal.

The Willson Guild was instantly cleared of debt, their operational costs subsidized by my investment, and their mission portfolio immediately expanded and legitimized by a respected Arcadia guild.

The Dawn Guild, in turn, secured a reliable, low-cost partner to handle the less-profitable "grunt work" contracts, freeing their main forces for higher-stakes D- and B-Rank dungeons.

And Aegis Holdings—my shadow company—now owned nearly half of a rapidly appreciating, strategically partnered asset.Everyone won.

"Father," Marcus prompted quietly.

Darius, his hand trembling slightly, took the mana-quill. He looked at my mother, who nodded, her eyes shining with tears.

He looked at his men, who watched with breathless hope. He looked at me, and I gave him a firm, confident nod.

He signed. Darius Willson. The name flared with a golden light as the contract accepted his mana signature.

Denzo Smith signed next. Denzo Smith. A silver light flared.

The two lights—gold and silver—merged, weaving together in the center of the parchment, forming the new, combined sigil of the alliance.

The contract hummed once, loudly, and the magic settled. It was done.

"Today," Darius said, his voice thick with emotion as he turned to his guild,

"the Willson Guild is reborn! We are no longer drowning. We are no longer just surviving. We are building! Thanks to our new visionary partners at Aegis Holdings, and our new brothers-in-arms from the Dawn Guild!"

A deafening cheer shook the hall. Denzo, playing his part perfectly, raised his cup.

"To new partnerships. And to new profits."

"TO NEW PROFITS!" the hall roared back.

As the celebration began, Victor slipped through the crowd and found me in my corner. He was practically vibrating, his eyes gleaming behind his spectacles.

"It's done, boss, it's done!" he whispered frantically.

"The 95 million is transferred from the Aegis account. The Dawn Guild partnership is sealed. The Willson Guild is now officially our first major, tangible asset. The foundation for the entire Aegis empire is laid!"

I just nodded, watching the scene unfold. My father was laughing, truly laughing, with Denzo Smith.

My mother was distributing drinks, her face a picture of pure relief. Marcus was watching me from across the room, a subtle, almost imperceptible smile of acknowledgment on his face.

My vacation is fruitful as I had returned to a family on the brink of collapse, a guild in ruins. In a matter of days, I had cured a dying master craftsman, secured the loyalty of his house, forged an alliance with a major Arcadia guild, and erased my family's crushing debt.

My gaze drifted to the window, to the city of Selorn beyond. The Iron Vipers were still out there.

Magnus Daven's shadows were still long. And the Dragon Egg in my inventory was still a ticking clock.

The path forward was still fraught with peril. But for the first time since I'd arrived in this world, I didn't feel like an 'extra' scrambling to survive the plot.

I felt like a player who was finally, truly, in control of the board.

(To be continued in Chapter 174)

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