Demonic Po*nstar System

Chapter 714: A Professional Relationship

...

Brittany and Trisha approached from the far side of the studio. They walked close together, shoulders nearly touching, with the careful gait of people entering a room where they weren’t sure they belonged. Brittany’s face was still puffy and her arms were folded across her stomach. Trisha’s hands were clasped in front of her so tightly that the knuckles had gone pale.

”Are we interrupting anything?” Brittany started, and the words came out small.

Kaiden pushed off the wall. ”No. Come on over.”

They came. Slowly, the way you approached a man whose girlfriend had just threatened to put you down like animals, their eyes flicking between him and the room full of women who hadn’t forgiven them for anything. Tessa had stopped shaking Talia and was watching with open curiosity.

Kaiden looked at them the way he’d look at any new recruit.

”So here’s the deal,” he said, with the tone of a man discussing logistics over coffee. ”You’re going to be independent contractors with a mercenary status. You fight under my banner, you earn your own keep, and Runewoven’s legal team handles your contract dispute with Ashbound until it’s resolved. Housing, operational support, and a discretionary allowance are covered.”

He paused long enough for them to process it, then continued.

”The arrangement is simple. You show up, do your best, and go home.”

That was it. He laid out the terms with the same energy he’d use to explain a sparring rotation and moved on.

Brittany’s arms loosened from around her stomach and dropped to her sides, and the rigid set of her shoulders softened for the first time in hours.

Trisha exhaled through her nose, slow and steady, the kind of breath that only came when you’d been bracing for a blow that never landed.

After Ash, who’d paraded them like trophies and called it a reward they should be grateful for. After the callers, who’d heard two women were drowning and shown up with a price tag instead of a rope. After Nyx, who’d laid bare exactly what she thought of them and offered rescue wrapped in contempt.

Kaiden just talked to them like respectable awakened fighters.

Brittany’s mouth curved, trembling and unsteady, into a smile.

”Thank you,” she said. Her voice cracked on it. ”Thank you, Kaiden. And I am sorry for what we have done to you.”

Trisha nodded once, and when she spoke her gaze was bright.

”We won’t waste the opportunity.”

”I know you won’t.” Kaiden glanced at the clock on the wall. ”Now go get some sleep. We’ll sort out the details in the morning.”

They went. Brittany wiped her face as she turned. Trisha put a hand on the small of her back, and the two of them walked out of the studio with their shoulders still close together but their spines straighter than when they’d walked in.

The door closed behind them.

Luna watched them go, then turned to look at Nyx, who returned to her previous position, leaning against the far wall with her phone out and her expression perfectly neutral.

Luna’s eyes narrowed.

Her gaze went from the door where two women had just walked out smiling after the worst night of their lives, to Nyx, who had called those same women loose women and dumb sluts less than an hour ago, to Kaiden, who had just offered them a lifeline with the professionalism of a man who’d never once considered treating them as anything other than colleagues.

And Luna understood.

’The pink bimbo,’ she thought, watching Nyx scroll through comments with that faint, satisfied smile. ’She ripped them apart on purpose so he’d feel like a saint by comparison when in reality he just treated them like your average associates. This bitch is good.’

Nyx didn’t look up. Her thumb swiped across the screen, unhurried, and the corner of her mouth twitched.

...

Chinedu looked smaller in the medical bay.

It was a strange thing to think about a man who stood six-foot-four and carried enough mana to crack a mountainside, but the healing cot had a way of shrinking people. The sheets were pulled to his chest and his arms lay at his sides, and the faint green glow of the regeneration array pulsed across his torso where the worst of the damage was still knitting itself together.

He was awake. That was the annoying part.

If he’d been unconscious, Mariana could have looked at him with pity instead of fury. Well, no. She would have still been furious.

”Thirteen,” she said from the doorway. She didn’t sit. ”Out of twenty. That’s what you left us with.”

Chinedu’s eyes found the ceiling. ”I’m aware.”

”Seven awakened fighters. Gone.” She stepped inside but kept her arms folded, her back straight, every line of her posture a courtroom. ”New Dawn is down fifty-two thousand points. We went from first to fifth in an hour. Fifth, Chinedu. In an hour.”

He said nothing.

”And for what?” Her voice was quiet. ”Aren’t you supposed to be an S-tier awakened fighter? Aren’t you supposed to carry New Dawn’s new generation to the glorious future?”

Chinedu’s jaw tightened. The green light pulsed across his ribs.

”The Guild Leader’s name is being ridiculed across every forum and broadcast in the country,” Mariana continued, and her voice dropped further. ”They’re posting memes of him. Memes. Of Magnus Ashborn. Because you turned our guild into a punchline.”

Chinedu said nothing for a long time. His chest rose and fell under the green light, and when he finally spoke, the words came out flat and done.

”I followed the strategy I was given, Mariana.”

The room went very still.

”Every order. Every deployment. Every engagement protocol came from leadership.” His eyes stayed on the ceiling. ”I’m not going to lie here and pretend I went rogue when you and I both know whose voice was on the other end of that comm.”

Mariana’s mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

It lasted half a second. Maybe less. A fracture so small that Chinedu, flat on his back and staring upward, might not have even caught it. But it was there, a hairline crack in the foundation of a woman who had built her entire career on the certainty that one man in this world did not make mistakes.

Then it sealed shut.

”The Guild Leader’s strategy was sound,” she said, and her voice was a blade. ”Your execution wasn’t. You walked into a trap set by an F-tier boy with a fraction of your power, and you lost seven of our people because you couldn’t see what was right in front of you.”

Chinedu’s eyes moved from the ceiling to her face. The easygoing warmth was gone, and what looked back at her was the flat, tired stare of a man who had just watched someone he respected choose faith over facts.

”Mariana. That man is no F-tier.”

”...” Mariana held his gaze for another beat, then broke it. She turned to leave and stopped.

She looked at the empty chair beside his cot. No flowers. No personal effects. No thin sleep shirt hovering in the doorway with needy complaints.

”Your little slut couldn’t even be bothered to visit you, huh,” she observed. ”Guess she’s on the prowl for new meat. The old one started smelling foul.”

Chinedu narrowed his eyes.

Mariana walked out. Her boots clicked against the medical bay floor, sharp and precise, and she did not look back.

The door shut behind her. The green light pulsed in the empty room.

...

Kaiden and co returned to the basin the next morning.

Days passed as the competition ground on.

Kaiden climbed, and his audience climbed with him, swelling with every broadcast and comment section.

The mountain settled into a rhythm that felt almost sustainable.

Until it didn’t.