Chapter 163: Don’t Thank Me

The convoy turned off the main road and drove smoothly down into the underground parking under Meridian Tower. Reinforced security gates opened with a low hiss, and two black SUVs pulled up alongside Evren’s vehicle as it stopped.

Guild Master Walter’s guards stood at attention in full gear, wearing their Iron-Thistle badges. One veteran guard stepped forward and opened the door with a quick salute.

Evren stepped out, checking the quiet surroundings before reaching inside. He lifted Calista carefully into her magitech wheelchair, letting her rest against the cushioned backrest while Amber adjusted the light blanket over her knees.

Zephyra followed behind them, her dark trench coat fluttering around her boots.

"Everything quiet down here?" Evren asked the lead guard.

"Clear on all levels, Chairman," the guard replied promptly. "The visitor is on seventy-eight. We cleared the floor and posted two men by the service stairwell as instructed."

Evren nodded. Together with the three women, he walked past the security gates toward the private express lift. The gold-trimmed doors slid open, and the four of them stepped inside.

He tapped his keycard against the biometric scanner. The floor indicator numbers lit up in sequence, and he pressed the button for Floor 78 before tapping Floor 80.

The elevator hummed to life, rising rapidly through the eighty-story skyscraper. As the digital counter climbed past the corporate suites and legal departments, Amber turned toward Evren with a questioning look.

"Silas Drake coming alone without an escort is strange," Amber said in a low voice. "Solar Crown doesn’t usually make house calls."

"He probably wants to talk about the High Council Assembly," Zephyra added, leaning against the polished handrail with her arms crossed. "Or he’s scouting our perimeter."

"We’ll find out in a second," Evren said. He looked down at Calista, who was watching him with wide silver eyes. "Go up to eighty with Amber and Zephyra. Get some rest and let them run the thermal spring bath for you."

Calista gave a small, obedient nod. "Be careful, Evren."

"Don’t worry," Evren answered with an easy smile. "It’s just a conversation."

The lift chimed with a clear tone, and the digital display flashed the number seventy-eight. The doors slid open smoothly to reveal the private executive lounge. Evren stepped out onto the dark plush carpet, and the doors glided shut behind him as the lift continued its ascent toward the Sky-Palace.

The seventy-eighth floor was large and quiet. Huge windows looked out over the bright lights of District 1. Sunset light stretched across the polished stone floor, lighting up soft armchairs, small marble tables, and a stylish bar.

Standing by the center window was Silas Drake.

The Guild Master of Solar Crown was wearing a dark overcoat over plain civilian clothes, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

Even without his signature golden plate armor, his broad shoulders and tall frame carried the natural weight of an S-Rank vanguard who had spent a decade commanding the top raid squads in the capital.

Hearing Evren’s footsteps, Drake turned around slowly. His jaw was set, and his golden eyes were tight with guarded pride. There was no greeting smile, no polite nod, and no bowing.

Evren walked over to the seating area and pulled out a leather armchair, taking a seat with relaxed composure. He gestured casually toward the couch opposite him.

"You came alone, Drake," Evren said, resting his forearms against the armrests. "That’s unusual for the top guild master in the city."

Drake didn’t take the seat. He stood five paces away with a sour and unimpressed expression.

"Don’t get the wrong idea, Crawford," Drake started straight-up. "I’m not here to join your fan club, and Solar Crown isn’t looking to become an Apex subsidiary. I don’t like you, and I definitely don’t like how you’ve been stealing our shine in the press."

Evren smiled faintly, leaning back in his chair. "Then why sneak into my tower before sunset?"

Drake’s jaw tightened.

For a brief second, a flicker of genuine irritation crossed his face, battling against a deep, rigid sense of personal pride.

"In Zone Two, you pulled me and six of my core squad out of that sinkhole when the hydra had us pinned," Drake said bluntly. "If you hadn’t shown up, Solar Crown’s frontline team would be dead under a pile of volcanic rubble."

He reached into his overcoat and pulled out an encrypted data slate. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed it onto the marble table between them. The glass device landed with a clatter.

"Solar Crown doesn’t run from debts of honor," Drake stated coldly. "I don’t like owing people. Especially not an upstart who’s competing with me for the number one ranking in the capital. Take that slate. Once you read what’s on it, my debt to you is paid. We’re square."

Evren picked up the slate, tapping the interface to unlock the device. A dense series of dockets, committee rosters, and private meeting minutes filled the display.

"What is this?" Evren asked, scrolling through the documents.

"Elder Brandon Caldwell called a closed-door caucus this morning at the Golden Griffin Club," Drake replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "He summoned the guild masters of the top five capital outfits and six mercantile lords from the High Council Commerce Bureau."

Evren didn’t look up from the screen. "And what did Caldwell want?"

"He wants to cut Apex’s legs off before tomorrow’s plenary assembly," Drake said with a harsh sneer. "Caldwell knows you retrieved the Vesper Ancestral Conservatory deed from Lord Albright."

Evren’s eyes flicked to a highlighted section titled Imperial Herbaria Emergency Requisition Petition.

"Go on," Evren murmured.

"Under Imperial Herbaria Statutes, any Grade-A botanical preserve left dormant and commercially inactive for over twenty-four months can be seized by the Commerce Ministry," Drake explained. "On top of that, the court liens Director Vance manufactured against House Vesper two years ago were never cleared from the central courthouse register. Vance is locked in imperial custody awaiting trial, but the paperwork is still sitting in the archives."

Drake walked over to the edge of the low table, tapping his knuckles against the glass top.

"Caldwell is introducing an emergency decree at tomorrow’s assembly," Drake continued. "He’s claiming the Vesper grounds are an abandoned hazardous ruin with outstanding debt. He wants the council to authorize an immediate state seizure, strip the twelve acres of starlight soil and rare herbs, and divide the alchemical spoils among the capital guilds."

Evren looked up from the slate, meeting Drake’s gaze with steady calm. "And what was Solar Crown offered?"

"A thirty percent share of all harvested starlight reagents and first pick of the botanical plots," Drake scoffed, shaking his head with open disgust. "Caldwell wanted me to co-sign the petition as lead sponsor to make it look like a united guild initiative against a provincial outsider."

"What did you tell him?" Evren asked.

"I told him to shove it up his ass," Drake replied flatly. "Solar Crown fights beasts in the rifts. We don’t steal old gardens from dead families with backroom paperwork."

Drake paused, narrowing his eyes as he studied Evren’s unfazed expression.

"Don’t celebrate yet, Crawford," Drake warned. "I walked out of the room, but five merchant noble houses stayed behind. Every single one of them signed Caldwell’s petition. They owe Caldwell’s private banking syndicate millions in loans, and they’ll vote however he tells them to."

Drake pointed a finger at the slate in Evren’s hand.

"Tomorrow morning, Caldwell is going to drop that petition on Grand Arbiter Kincaid’s desk in front of the full council," Drake said. "Unless you can prove the conservatory is an active, commercially registered industrial operation before the session opens, imperial law gives the council the right to freeze your gates and confiscate the land."

Silence settled over the lounge. Outside the high windows, the sunset faded into deep purple twilight, and the streetlights of District 1 began to flicker to life like scattered embers across the floor of the capital.

Drake checked his wristwatch, then turned toward the private lift.

"I’ve paid my debt, Crawford," Drake said, stepping toward the elevator doors. "Whatever you decide to do with that information is your own business."

"Thanks for the heads-up, Drake," Evren said calmly, setting the slate on his knee.

Drake stopped by the call button, glancing back over his shoulder.

"Don’t thank me," Drake said gruffly. "When Solar Crown takes the number one spot back, I want it to be because we cleared deeper rifts and killed bigger monsters than you. I don’t want to win because some senile politician stole your property with a pen. Don’t choke tomorrow."

The lift doors chimed and slid open. Drake stepped inside, hit the ground floor button, and descended into the tower.

Evren sat alone in the quiet lounge as the hum of the elevator faded into the background. He looked down at the glowing slate in his hands, turning Caldwell’s plan over in his mind.

Caldwell thought he had laid a foolproof trap with his claims of an abandoned estate, unsettled debts, and an expired cultivation license.

The old man expected Evren to scramble for lawyers, file defensive counter-motions, or beg Grand Arbiter Kincaid for an exemption on the council floor.

A cold smile touched Evren’s lips. He didn’t need lawyers, and he certainly wasn’t going to beg anyone for mercy. But what was the best way to tackle this?

He pulled his phone from his jacket and unlocked the screen, scrolling straight to the top entry on his speed dial. The line rang once, then clicked as the connection linked directly to the command center in Veridia.

"Chairman," a calm, sharp voice answered on the first ring.

Evren looked out over the glittering sea of city lights. "Mikay."