Pampering Discarded Heroines Triggers My 10,000x Rebate System

CLANG!

The sharp sound of steel rang out through the training room at Imperial Crest Manor.

Amber moved swiftly across the rubber training mats. Dressed in a sleek, dark training suit with her long hair tied back, she was holding two training blades glowing with faint blue mana. She faked a move to the left, then unleashed a fast horizontal slash aimed at Evren’s ribs.

Evren didn’t even shift his footing.

Through the predictive sight of Kinetic Flow, he saw the blue trace of her blade half a second before it arrived. He leaned his torso back just enough for the edge to whistle through empty air, then raised his right hand, catching the flat of her follow-up strike bare-handed.

The steel hit his palm with a dull chime, blocked instantly by the density of his Titan Body Forge.

”Faster, Amber,” Evren said with a faint smirk. ”If you hesitate on your turn, an S-Rank beast in a high-rank rift will take your shoulder off.”

Amber turned on her heel with a burst of crimson-gold mana, her eyes glowing with competitive fire. ”I hesitated because I didn’t want to shred your favorite training shirt!”

Before she could finish speaking, the shadows in the rafters above shifted. A silent, gray blur dropped down, landing without making a single sound.

Zephyra descended like a falling leaf, her dark silk trailing behind her. She moved silently, aiming two blunt practice daggers at the vulnerable nerve cluster between Evren’s neck and collarbone. Her stealth was perfect, with no killing intent in her entry.

Evren’s senses flared. Just as Zephyra’s blade came within six inches of his neck, she attempted to twist her wrist to execute a high-speed three-point tendon lock.

At that exact microsecond of peak acceleration, Zephyra’s right forearm twitched.

A sharp, microscopic spasm rippled through her deeper mana conduit. Her blade deviated two inches off its target line, slapping harmlessly against the thick muscle of Evren’s trapezius.

Evren’s left hand snapped up, catching her slender wrist before she could recoil.

The pavilion went quiet, save for the rhythmic hum of the ventilation shafts. He released his grip. Zephyra landed lightly on the mat, taking two steps back.

She stood there in silence, staring down at the trembling fingers of her right hand with an expression of bitter frustration. Her jaw clenched tight.

”My hand was steady when I poured tea this morning,” Zephyra murmured. ”Why did the conduit collapse the moment I pushed for maximum speed?”

Evren lowered his hands, letting the kinetic aura fade from his skin.

”Because holding a porcelain cup and channeling high-velocity combat mana are two entirely different stresses on your nervous system,” Evren explained calmly. ”Stage Two completely healed the necrotic rot and restored your daily motor control. Your fingers don’t tremble anymore. But your deeper conduits are still scarred.”

Zephyra clenched her fist, looking down at the floor. ”Then in real combat... against a true master... I am still flawed. I am only half a fighter.”

Amber walked over, resting a warm, reassuring hand on Zephyra’s shoulder. ”Two weeks ago, you couldn’t hold a spoon without drops of soup spilling, Zephyra. Today, you dropped from twenty feet up and nearly clipped an S-Rank bare-handed. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Evren walked up to Zephyra.

”We finished Stage One and Stage Two,” Evren said gently. ”Stage Three will deal with reconnecting and fortifying those deeper mana conduits so they can take full combat pressure. I don’t know yet what rare herbs, elixirs, or rift materials it will take, but whatever it requires, and wherever we have to search... even in the Capital, I will find it and finish your cure.”

Zephyra looked up into Evren’s eyes. The tightness in her chest melted away, replaced by warmth.

”Yes, Master,” she whispered, bowing her head respectfully.

”Here you go, Chairman.”

Arthur stepped onto the edge of the mat, carrying a silver tray with clean white cotton towels and three bottles of chilled mineral water.

Evren took a towel, wiping the light sheen of sweat from his forehead.

Just as he took a sip of water, the glass doors of the training pavilion slid open with a hiss.

Mikay hurried into the room, wearing a tailored gray three-piece suit; his hair was slightly disheveled and a thick leather folder was clutched under his arm along with a tablet.

”Boss! Good morning,” Mikay said, catching his breath as he adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses. ”Sorry to interrupt your morning spar, but your phone was on silent, and today’s schedule is completely out of hand.”

Evren draped the towel around his neck. ”What’s the situation?”

”Now that the official news broke that Apex dropped one billion dollars cash to buy out Prescott’s entire industrial empire,” Mikay said, pulling up a schedule on his screen, ”every corporate hyena in the southern territory is trying to bite off a piece of our new flesh.”

Mikay tapped his tablet, reading off the priority docket.

”First: At ten o’clock sharp, the minority shareholders and board members of Prescott Heavy Smelting have convened an emergency board meeting at the Sector Three Commercial Tower.

Three local merchant families and a venture syndicate from the Eastern Province hold eighteen percent of the non-voting shares. They are panicking because Prescott is in prison, and they’re threatening to pull their operating capital and freeze raw material deliveries unless you grant them permanent executive board seats and a twenty percent profit share.”

Amber’s brow furrowed. ”Prescott is barely in the ground for forty-eight hours, and his former lapdogs are already trying to extort us?”

”That’s not all,” Mikay continued. ”Second: At one in the afternoon, the Chief Harbor Master and the Merchant Cargo Union at the Sector Two deep-water port are refusing to dock four international freighters carrying refined alloy ores.

They claim their collective bargaining agreement was tied to Lord Prescott personally, and they’re demanding a thirty percent wage hike and union veto power before clearing the cranes.”

”Okayyy?” Evren asked, completely calm.

”Third: At four o’clock, Mayor Henderson’s administration is hosting the first public disbursement of the Apex Sovereign Relief Foundation at City Hall,” Mikay said with pride. ”The first wave of fifty million dollars is ready to be audited, and over two thousand injured miners and factory workers from Sector One are gathering to receive their emergency pension checks.”

Evren finished his water and tossed the empty bottle into the bin.

A cold, amused smile touched the corner of his lips.

”Minority shareholders threatening to pull their capital, and harbor union bosses trying to flex their muscles on day one,” Evren murmured, looking at Amber and Zephyra.

”What do you want to do with the board members, Boss?” Mikay asked, with his pen ready over his tablet. ”Should we have our legal team file an injunction with the Commerce Court to freeze their voting rights?”

”No,” Evren said smoothly, walking toward the exit stairs. ”If they want to pull their capital, let them try. Tell the driver to bring the car around, Mikay. We’re going to the Sector Three boardroom.”

Evren turned back. ”If those minority investors want to play games with Apex, I won’t just reject their demands. I’ll buy out their remaining eighteen percent at a fifty percent discount.”